Invisible Love

YIKES!! Days 64-73 reading assignment
Numbers 4:1-22:20
Mark12:48-16:20
Luke 1:1-1:56
Psalm 48:1-57:11
Proverbs 10:26-11:11


Wow, it's been too many days again.  I have been traveling and sooner or later I will break down and buy a laptop.  This blog has become ingrained into my life and skipping so many writing days makes me feel all bogged down.  This time my travels have taken me yet again to places intoxicating and full of mystery...Porterville, California.  Aaaah the exotic life of the wife of a tanker pilot.  This life-style has taken me on many a romantic journey from the plains of Battle Mountain, Nevada to the smog filled skies of San Bernardino, California and many unknown stops in between.  If it doesn't have a Starbucks, I have probably been there.  Once on a fire bust in Battle Mountain, the ground fire fighters got to the one grocery store in town before me and wiped out all the chocolate inventory.  That's right, no chocolate in the whole town and no deliveries for a week.  Heaven forbid I could have lost a pound.

I went to Porterville this week to catch up with my hunka hunka burnin' love to celebrate our twenty sixth wedding anniversary.  We joke that in all the time we spend apart, we have technically only been married thirteen years.  It is an odd life-style and certainly not for everyone which is evident in the high divorce rate within this industry.  We have spent more anniversaries apart than together, so if Brent is twelve hours or less away, I try very hard to track him down.  It is our time apart that makes the majority of our time together quite precious and where we spend it is not a factor.  Spending it together is.  It's like an invisible love sometimes.  Unseen but very much our reality.  Being apart requires trust and faith in one another.  We are required to lead separate lives so much of the time and then magically transition back into a togetherness.  I am putting it mildly when I say it has been "tricky" at times.

Seventy-three days into this spiritual quest I have more questions than answers thank you very much NUMBERS chapters 1-10.  Is it disrespectful to say how painful I found those chapters?  Yet I am always anxious to get back to it.  Back to the daily-ness of reading this Bible.  The unfaithfulness and chronic complaining that annoyed me so in the beginning of Israel's journey, now I find almost comforting.  How warped is that?  Actually the Israelites are still completely annoying, but I see myself in them on so many levels now that I am relieved that God, tempted as He was, didn't just wipe them out and start over.  My humanness along with a shameful attitude of entitlement (deny as I might-I've got it) requires answers from God.  Why won't he heal my unbelief, my wavering faith.  Why won't He wave that magic wand and instill trust in Him to me?  I carry with me a bottle of mustard seed just for a daily reminder that it's all about FAITH.

In Holman's Bible Dictionary there is a page and a half of definition on faith.  It reads: faith is tied to hope in Hebrews 11:1; Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.  It refers to faith as the central concept of Christianity.  It goes on to say that faith is the beginning of a relation to God and not an end.  It is especially in Paul's letters, the inauguration of incorporation "in Christ," in which one continues to grow and develop.  But here is my own conclusion....God does not owe me an explanation.  I said it before: God is God whether I believe or not, whether I understand much or little.  When I relate it to my marriage, I get it...sort of.  The wonder of invisible love.  And when I allow those tiny seeds of doubt to seep in  I am sure the enemy loves the distractions my lack of understanding offers.  The more I search for explanations the less time I am spending in quality time with Him or in prayer for others.

Brent's fire contract is up in eleven days.  For a few months we will live a daily married life.  It is the dailyness no matter how mundane and ordinary that we need.  It is the dailyness in my spiritual walk that is important as well.  The seemingly painfully boring first ten chapters of Numbers is significant information... whether I like it or not.  Who am I to critique God's own bestseller after-all?  So on with the quest.  Hit me with your best shot day 74.  For two hundred and ninety-one more days I will show up to the daily page.  Maybe even without complaining just to have a glimpse of that invisible love.

-If my eyes could see you I'd have no faith to prove-
lyrics to Invisible Love by JJ Heller

20/20 vision

Day 26 reading assignment:
Exodus 2:11-3:22
Matt: 17:10-27
Psalm 22:1-18
Proverbs 5:7-14

I'm a hypochondriac.  I'm not proud of it and in my defense I do draw from a gene pool muddied with diabetes, heart disease and stroke.  I am convinced almost on a daily basis that I am knock knock knockin on heaven's door.  It is a real fear, from my shortness of breath to my tingling fingers.  If the body is indeed a temple I'm afraid mine is the temple of doom.  This morning I was sitting in my car in the Starbuck's parking lot.  I was catching up on my reading before facing a long to-do list.  As I was reading I was aware of my worsening eyesight.  The words on the page were blurry no matter how I squinted to see them.  I felt a quickening in my chest that something had gone dreadfully wrong with my vision in the last twelve hours.  A noise outside my car caused me to turn to look out the window, I caught my reflection in the side view mirror and realized I was wearing my sunglasses instead of my 2.00 powered magnified reading glasses.  What a relief that despite my impending stroke/heart attack, I am not going blind as well.  But this story serves as my own analogy in my inability to see spiritually.

In Philip Yancey's book, "The Jesus I Never Knew" he talks about an analogy of Jesus by Karl Barth: "A man stands by a window gazing into the streets.  Outside, people are shading their eyes with their hands and looking up into the sky.  Because of the overhang of the building though, the man cannot see what it is they are pointing towards.  We who live 2000 years after Jesus have a viewpoint not unlike the man standing by the window.  We hear the shouts and exclamations.  We study the gestures and words in the Gospels and the many books they have spawned.  Yet no amount of neck-craning will allow us a glimpse of Jesus in the flesh"....he concludes with "sometimes those of us who look for Jesus cannot see past our own noses." 

In Matthew 17 Jesus seems like he is disgusted with the disciples and chastising them for their weak faith.  The application in my bible explains that Jesus' purpose was not to criticize them but to encourage them to greater faith.

I had a call this morning from my sister-in-law.  She is not a hypochondriac.  After two questionable mammograms this month and a procedure last week, her doctor called this morning to say that she needs to come in to the office tomorrow to talk about these latest results.  We all know that good news comes in the form of a form-letter stating that the results were all "within the normal limits".  Doctors do not call you in to tell you there is nothing to worry about.  This sister-in-law is my very dear friend and christian mentor and the most faithful prayer warrior I know.  She would laugh out loud at this description of her because she is also very humble.  After a fleeting bout with dizziness and nausea at the nurse's words she said to me, "It's not about this being cancer.  Whether it is or isn't, it's about how we get through the trial."  She is not crippled with fear but seeing it as a great inconvenience that may cause her to have to rescedule her trip to southern California in a few weeks.  No high drama just a request to "pray her through this."

In Matthew 17:20 Jesus says to the disciples: "You didn't have enough faith.  I assure you, even if you had faith as small as a mustard seed, nothing would be impossible.

When I left my sister-in-law's house today, I went to Safeway to buy Mustard seed.  Leaving the store I saw a poster with a big pink ribbon on it that said: The month of OCTOBER is breast cancer awareness month.  It's amazing how immediately one can become aware of breast cancer.

When I got home I opened my bottle of Mustard seed.  They are in fact smaller than a bee-bee.  I'm praying now for just that much faith.  Because with my glasses on, they are even bigger.

Let's put the fun back in dysfunctional

Days 11 through 17 Reading assignment:
Gen 24:52-36:43
Matt: 8:18-12:21
Psalm 10:1-15:5
Proverbs 3:7-26

"I am so over the Old Testament."  I actually spoke those words to a friend last year.  I think I continued with something like, "Its just so old and boring."  Spoken like a scholar.  Ah if only I could take back the bottomless pit of stupid I have put into the spoken word.  I have been on a rabid rampage of reading this weekend, determined to get caught up to where I am supposed to be.  I am surprised that the more I read, the more I need/want to read.  This has never been the case for me in the past and I like where this venture is taking me.  I enjoyed the verses regarding wisdom in Proverbs, and I'm fairly sure it is no coincidence that the verses in Psalms that grabbed me, all  had to do with the destruction a tongue can cause.  I jotted so many notes out of Matthew that those  comments will need to wait for a later date.  But it's Genesis I want to get back to.  In the beginning (no pun intended) it was just my wish to get through this book of the Bible and on to the "good stuff."  I know.  I'm just the gift that keeps on giving when it comes to my unenlightened condition.  Genesis is the beginning after-all.  A rich history of the patriarchs of the Bible;  Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  It's all about family and I am freakishly obsessed about family.

 It is mind boggling to me how messed up these families were.  And I get an odd sense of comfort from their examples of weak or wavering faith.  After-all if these people, who lived in a time when the chosen would actually hear the audible voice of God and see His blessings first hand, could have moments of weak faith it could only shine well on the rest of us right?  The last 12 chapters of Genesis have been something off the Lifetime Movie Channel.  Lying, cheating, conniving, and that's just the sibling rivalry.  A mother assisting a son in stealing his twin's blessing, a son-in-law being tricked out of the wife he thought he was "buying",  the wives of Jacob competing to see who can give him the most sons, and my favorite,  Esau trading his birthright for a bowl of stew.  While the exact scenarios within these chapters were more extreme than anything I can relate to, God's reaction to them was not.  He takes our bad choices and brings goodness out of them, sometimes even despite our flagrant disobedience.

I met my husband in 1983.  He had a two year old daughter and I had two daughters ages three and eight, and an eleven year old son.  We knew early on in our relationship that we were meant to be together and seven months after our first meeting we were married.  Eight months after that we had a baby boy (it would be very rude of you to judge me).  We were off and running on our version of yours, mine and ours.  I like to say it was much like the Brady Bunch if you could picture the Brady's (hypothetically) on crack and armed with weapons.  Blending a family is not for the faint hearted.  There were days when I would climb back into my bed, fully dressed shoes and all,  pull the covers over my head and scream into the pillow: "I HATE MY LIFE!!!"  It was always something.  The only thing that balanced out the drama was the sibling rivalry. I still feel ashamed when I think of my infantile tantrums.   Shortly into our marriage my husband became a tanker pilot.  He puts out forest fires with an airplane.  This takes him on the road from May or June until November or December.  This was a dynamic that sometimes compounded my frustration but it also contributed to the richness of our very non-traditional family life.  Now I treasure those memories and am aware of the countless blessings amid the utter chaos.

  When I was six years old I knew all I wanted to be when I grew up was a wife and a mother.  I had a very distinct picture of how I thought that life should look, very June Cleaver.  Seventeen probably wasn't the wisest age to start this dream, but like Esau, I wasn't thinking things through to the consequence part.  But God continuously takes my bad choices and turns them into blessings.  The truth of my reality is far better than anything I could have planned for myself.

It is obvious from what I am reading in Genesis, that the dysfunctional family started long before this word became a popular psycho-babble term.  I am the original hater of everything cliche but isn't it just so like God to put the fun back in dysfunctional?


                                       Family: the ties that gag and bind
                                                     - Erma Bombeck-
       

A Casual Christian...or How to Never Know Jesus(even though you think you do)

Day 3 reading assignment:
Gen 5:1-7:24
Matt 3:7-4:11
Psalm 3:1-8
Proverbs 1:10-19

I wish I had a dollar for everytime I have been ranting like a mad woman at my family, only to stop long enough to answer the phone with a warm and cheery "Hello!" I continue, engaged in the conversation all nicey nice, hang-up and pick up ranting where I left off.  What a phoney!

In Matthew 3:8 John the baptist called people to more than words or rituals.  He told them to change their behavior.  The application on this verse explained that God looks beyond our words and religious activities to see if our conduct (especially when we think no one is looking) backs up what we say.

Imagine sitting in the back of the room at your own funeral listening to what people are saying about you.  What would they say? "Oh my how did Cindy stay so thin?" Yeah not likely.  How about "I never knew Cindy was a christian did you?"  I didn't have to be at my funeral to hear this.  About 9 years ago our second daughter was about to marry the love of her life who was a youth pastor at a local church.  We were very involved in the activities of the county fair in those days and there was much talk among our circle of friends about the impending nuptials.  A dear friend was relaying a conversation to me that she recently had with a mutual friend of ours. I can't say where that conversation was going because at her opening line I went numb and stopped listening.  "So Lindsay's going to be a preachers wife...can you imagine Cindy a born again christian?!"
When I heard this I felt physically sick.  I was immediately aware of God's disappointment in me.  What had I done, how had I behaved that made this friend assume I was the furthest thing from a christian?

My parents were members of the Lutheran church.  Every Sunday my mother would scrub us up and march her 6 children into church delighting in the attention we would bring her.  She would proceed to sing the loudest because she was also very proud of her voice.  At the age of 12 I went through the memorization process of being confirmed in the church and to this day I have no idea what that was about. For awhile I believed we went to church for the spectacle we created.  I understand now that I have no right to these judgements.  My point is that from noon on Sunday until the next Sunday morning, there was no evidence of Christ in any of our lives with the exception of the memorized prayer of thanks at dinner time and at bedtime when my mother would shout from somewhere else in the house, " Say your prayers!"

By the time I was 15  I was dating a boy who claimed he was agnostic.  I had little idea of what this meant (The belief that any existence of God is unknown and probably unknowable) but I was pretty sure it was my ticket to sleeping in on Sunday mornings.  The announcement of my new spiritual philosophy was not well received and I was forced to endure the painful hour on Sunday mornings anyway.  My relationship with the agnostic ended eventually and in the spring of my senior year at the age of 17,  I discovered I was pregnant.  On the date of what would be my senior prom, I married my first husband. Now that's another story for another day anyhoo........After the birth of my son, with the encouragement of a neighbor I began my real search for God.  When my friend made the 'imagine Cindy a chrisian' comment, I had been a christian for 27 years.  Evidently a casual christian at best.  It could have been many things that spurred that comment.  I could laugh with the best of them at a dirty joke, I was a consistent contributor to the gossip mill and certainly took the Lord's name in vain on a regular basis.  I only spoke of my spiritual beliefs in the safe surrounding of other christians.  I changed behaviors to match my environment like a chamelion changes colors. It makes people uncomfortable when you get all lofty and righteous on them.  But #1 on the list of my failures was that I had not been consistent in raising my kids in church, teaching them, by EXAMPLE about faith and reliance on God.
I had never developed a personal relationship with Him which had robbed me of his voice.  I thought it was enough just to believe-and, in theory it is-but I believed with my head.  I never invested my heart.  According to the bible, faith must be more than belief in certain facts.  It must result in actions or it will die away.

Where then does a person learn about faith?  The best answer is; at home.  We all have a front row ticket to the best (or worse) reality show right in our own homes.  It's real and it's raw.  Despite the hypocrisy I saw in the faithlessness of my mother, at least I got a glimpse of God.  My mother's actions at the very least, planted a necessary seed that caused me to seek Him later in my life.  I used to have strong criticisms for much of what my mother did or didn't do.  My reality is that I'm ashamed to admit that I was simply too lazy to get my own children to church, for any reason, selfish or otherwise, with any kind of consistency.

Faith is a rich heritage we can pass down to our children, even if we do it badly.  Borrowing from The Practical Life of Faith: "Whatever else may be said about home, it is the bottom line of life.  It is at home, among family that we come to terms with circumstances.  It is here life makes up its mind.  It's a place where milk is spilled, where toes are stubbed and where people see you in your underwear.  It's real life where real people rub up against real challenges.  How we meet those challenges determines whether the faith of the family flourishes or flounders.  Faith is meant to be an everyday companion, not a weekend guest.  If someone were to peek through the keyhole of your front door what would they see?  For faith to be served up family style nourishing generations to come, 2 things have to happen.  We have to think of our homes as training bases, not holding pens.  The home should be a launching pad for sending children into the world, not a storage facility for isolating them from it. Second we must develop in our homes a contagious confidence in God."  Where was this information when my kids were little?  Luckily it's never too late when it comes to our spirituality.  Being the matriarch of a family is an enormous responsibility.  So,  do as I say not as I did.  NEVER take it casually....I'm the mommy thats why.



       "Preach the gospel at all times, if necessary use words."
                                                                       St.Francis of Assisi

Rocka bye baby

I was rocking my 8 month old grandson the other day, well technically I was wrestling him to sleep.  He loves to snuggle but he HATES to nap.  I snuggled him tightly in my arms and he didn't fight it so much.  But then his legs would fly out kicking hard away from me.  Our eyes would meet and his sweet drooly mouth would open up to smile I am addicted to.  I snugged him in tighter and lodged his legs between my own until he could not move.  I expected tears and wailing but within minutes he was sound asleep.  Not a conventional way to rock a baby but it got the job done.

This is how I picture my time with God.  There He sits, waiting, while I flit like a hummingbird from busy-ness to busy-ness.  He sits waiting, wanting to hold me, waiting to take my burdens while I dart in and out, resisting capture.  When at last I do light, I'm writhing around trying to kick my legs free.  Unlike a determined grandma, God allows us that blasted "free-will".  He won't rap His legs around my infantile behavior, but instead sets me free to flit while He resumes waiting.... for me to come back.  "Later Lord, I promise, but right now I am busy!"  If the grandkids summon me, or anyone else for that matter, I stop what I'm doing and give my (almost) full attention.  But when my Father, My God that hung His only son on a cross for MY sins, wants a moment of my precious time, I continuously leave him simmering, disappointed and heart broken, on the back burner.  I give Him the last exhausted bits of me when I'm so tired I fall asleep reading His Word.......  I'm going about this all wrong.

Put on the big girl underpants and get on with it!

Day 1 Reading assignment:
Gen:1-2:25
Matt:1-2:12
Psalms: 1:1-6
Proverbs:1:1-6
This is hard.  This showing up to the daily blog page is really hard.  Day 2 and I am having some serious doubts.  I got the reading done, where is my spiritual inspiration?  My days were already full and now I think I can just be clever on a daily basis?  What on earth was I thinking?  I am a gadillion pages from the lessons on perseverance (and complaining).  I started to read ahead but I am doing everything in my power to avoid "the squirrels" and they are everywhere!
Today's squirrels, however, are much cuter and actually have names; Sawyer, Thatcher and Crew.  They are 3 of our 9 fabulous grandkids. Crew is 8 months old and master of the G.I Joe crawl that allows him access to EVERYWHERE.  Thatcher is 21 months, dangerously close to that terrible 2 thing and lets just say it's a good thing he is so stinkin' cute because he's a pistol.  Sawyer is 4, and milk out the nose funny (just like his grampa) and incredibly smart.  He also has autism.  I don't say he's autistic because that wording makes it sound like autism is what defines who he is rather than a condition he is learning to live with.  Thatcher also was beginning to exhibit red flag behaviors that are associated with the creepy "A" word.  24 hours after his 18 month immunization Thatcher stopped talking.  He started flapping his hands, walking on tippy toes and banging his head on the walls and floors.  He would cry for prolonged periods, had chronic diarrhea, stopped eating and was losing weight.  It was at this time that the family moved home to be at Grampa and Gramma's.  Since their arrival in early July, our Thatcher can now call the kitties, mimic Spike the horse and is attempting sounds for words he once had.  We count these as huge successes.
These guys are busy, messy and loud. This afternoon they were hanging with grams while mommy made a quick trip to the store-all by herself.  No biggy, I thought, I could still get a few words together for the blog.  But first I had to sit Crew on the lawn for a quick minute while I untangled a crying Thatcher from the horsey swing that the bull dog was also trying to swing on.  I turned to see Sawyer had stripped naked as a week of successful potty training was taking a turn for the worse.  Crew started to cry as he toppled face first in the dirt, Thatcher's wail was escalating to hysterics and Sawyer was off on a dead run, naked, chasing Pedderkitty, the family cat. I managed to herd Sawyer inside and toward the bathtub while carrying 2 crying babies.  Safely in the house I sat them down. Thatcher tripped, sending a lamp sailing, landing in pieces when... THE PHONE RINGS!!!
 It was mommy,"how are the boys?"
"Fine!" I lied, in my high pitched liars voice.....

 Earlier today Sawyer was heard saying, Speed Racer racing through the ketchup!'  That pretty much sums up the state of this household and also why this day's post didn't happen until 12 ish a.m. I came to the conclusion years ago when I was raising my own kids that there will always be ketchup to be mopped up, laundry to fold and over all clutter to sort through. But the babies grow up quickly.  A year ago Sawyer had only a few words. Today he said "Gramma I'm so happy."   God is so good.  These little boys battle far bigger foes on a daily basis than I.  I can do this.  2 days down, 363 to go.

Do What You Dread

If procrastination were a profession I would be the CEO.  I put off doing even non-dreadful things so if it is dreadful it isn't going to happen until I am forced.  I remember a day many years ago when my refrigerator went on the blink.  I answered a knock at the door to find a man in a suit with a face that looked as if all personality had been surgically removed.  I was thinking, 'he probably seems so unfriendly because he hates his job, poor thing.'  So I greeted him with a warm smile and said, "Wow you really dressed up just to fix my fridge!"
  At that and without as much as a twinkle in his eye, he flashed a badge at me.  "Joe Blow, Department of Revenue."  My knees went weak several seconds before my brain could completely process what was happening. I flashed on the files of quarterly taxes that I had shoved to the bottom desk drawer.  We didn't have the money to pay them and I did not want to bother my hubby with it-he was stressed out enough.
I was picturing in my mind how it would look when my 5 little kids watched the bad man cuff mommy and haul her off to unpaid quarterly prison when I became hysterical.  I'm sure the poor man was wishing he could call for "back-up" to get someone to calm this crazy loon down.
"I'm not a tax evader, I promise!"  I wailed.  "I'm just an idiot!"
The man must have believed that I was indeed just an idiot and guided me through the process of getting caught up. From this experience I learned the important lesson of: "Don't mess with the tax man." Did I learn to not procrastinate?  Not so much.

I'm not sure if procrastination and seeing squirrels are the same... but when that wiley squirrel shows up, I drop what I'm doing  and move to the next distraction (aka:squirrel) until I realize now, at the age of 54, I've never finished ANYTHING!

Yesterday was September 1st. A good day to start something, I decided.   I was hit with a jolt while brushing my teeth.  I went to the kitchen with a foamy mouth and slurred speech to announce to my family this epiphany.
"Ah gah it!"
"What?" They ask in unison.
"Ah gah it!" Holding my index finger in the air summoning them to wait, I walked to the kitchen sink and spit."I've got it!" I repeat.  "I'm going to read the bible in one year and blog it.  I've attempted to do this for about 5 years now so a blog will hold me accountable."
My family is unwavering in their support and encouragement of each and every (unfinished) wild hair I embark on.  They cheered me on,  my biggest fans,  never revealing the slightest hint of the major doubts I am sure were rolling around in their minds.
What happened next?  I saw squirrels all day.  One distraction after another.  I kept telling myself I would get to it.  Later.  Instead I fell exhausted in to bed, discouraged and full of self-loathing at my immediate failure.  Honestly I thought I would get to at least day 3 or 4 before I quit.

But today is a new day!  So what if it's Day 2 of September, it's Day 1 of my quest.  Squirrels be damned!  I've got some reading to do................