Hanging on to hope

Boy, am I glad it's a new week.

As I turn the page to a new week in my planner, I'm awfully glad to leave last week behind and to look with hope at the unsullied week ahead.

I'm really glad for some hope, because last week was hard around here. More than once I found myself agreeing with Alexander, "This is a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day." Remember that book by Judith Viorst?

Maybe you've had days like that, too.

In the middle of those days, I realized something about myself. If you've read the book, you may remember that Alexander himself is telling the story, and the whole thing begins with this sentence:

"I went to sleep with gum in my mouth. . .
   And now there's gum in my hair."

Everything goes downhill after that, but it all started with the dadgum gum.

Which, in my mind, always provoked the question: Why on earth did he go to sleep with gum in his mouth?

Or the admonition: Never go to sleep with gum in your mouth.

Or worse, the accusation: You idiot! You know better than to go to sleep with gum in your mouth!

Somehow, as I surveyed the bad situations of last week, I always landed on the accusation.

You idiot! Why did you do that? Why didn't you do this?? You know better!

The problem with the accusation is that there's some truth in it. Alexander should have known better than to go to sleep with gum in his mouth. I should have known better than to do some of the things I did last week.

But knowing better doesn't always stop us from making mistakes, does it?

I'm thinking there's another way to interpret that first line of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, one that my soul desperately needs: confession.

I need to sit here honestly and say, "Look, I did some things I shouldn't have done. I messed up, and now we're all paying the price for that."

If I can press pause right there, if I can honestly admit to God and to other people that I did indeed screw up, I can stop the downward spiral.

No, I can't squirm out of the consequences of my mistakes and my sins. It may be that I'll have some terrible, horrible days. But I don't have to go all the way down to "no good."

My very favorite thing about God is that He can take any circumstance—even the terrible mistakes I make—and bring some good of it. The official term for that process is redemption, but I'm not sure that word is adequate. "Redemption" is what I do with coupons at the grocery store. It's what my mom used to do with S & H green stamps.

But the redemption God offers us is not at all mundane; it's miraculous.

I think we forget sometimes that God is quite capable of miracle. It's easy to measure God's abilities through our own feeble means, to hope only for forgiveness, because that sounds so hard to us. We want God simply to disregard our mistakes; we wish only that circumstances could be as if we had never sinned. But God can do better than that.

I made a mess of things last week. To be honest, I'm not even sure how to go about correcting my mistakes. But God doesn't have that problem. He can see the beginning from the end. He can see what contributed to my mistakes. He can see into my heart and the hearts of everyone affected by my sins.

And He can look at all that with eyes of eternal love, through which He can see what needs to be done.

My vision is distorted. I look at myself through eyes of condemnation and reproach. But that's not the way God sees me. Condemnation and reproach are the furthest things from His mind.

I can offer God the truth about myself, terrible as it may be. I can admit my deepest failings.

And then I can ask God to do what no one else can do. God can take even the worst of circumstances and use them to write a different story. He can bring about something new and beautiful from the mess, not despite the mess.

Only God can do that.

With God, there will be days when I screw up royally. There will be terrible, horrible, very bad days.

But there will never have to be days that are no good.

"God is light; in Him is no darkness at all" (I John 1:5). Redemption is His jam. In His hands, we are safe.

Joining Jennifer Dukes Lee for Tell His Story

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Advent: Learning to Wait

Every few years, some kind of small appliance emerges as the latest and greatest holiday gift. From the Vegomatic to the Fry Daddy to the George Foreman grill—there’s always something that promises great returns for the home cook. This year is no exception. The latest craze? The Instant Pot, a countertop gadget that will cook food in a fraction of the time of other methods.

That’s not really surprising, is it? Nobody likes to wait. We get out of it whenever we can. We drive on expressways, choose the express lane at the grocery store, and pay extra for express shipping.

Like it or not, though, this kind of waiting is part of life. Slow-moving traffic or cash register lines might be irritating, but mostly they just try our patience.

Another kind of waiting, though, requires a lot more than patience.

Prisoners wait to be set free.
 Chronically ill patients wait to be healed.
  Refugees wait to return home.
   Separated families wait to be reunited.
    Those in danger wait to be rescued.

That kind of waiting takes courage—courage to remain strong and faithful, no matter how long the waiting takes.

The ancient Israelites knew a lot about that kind of waiting. Long promised a Messiah, they endured centuries of hardship. Siege. Destruction. Exile. Slavery. No wonder the psalmist sang:

“Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord!” (Psalm 31:24 ESV)

Hope is what fueled their courage: hope for the coming of the Messiah, hope for the fulfillment of all of God’s promises.

In the book of Lamentations we read:

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
  the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
  and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
  and therefore I have hope:
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
  for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
  great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
  therefore I will wait for him.”

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
  to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. (Lamentations 3:19-26, NIV)

The season of Advent is about waiting. As we live on this side of the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, it’s easy for us to distance ourselves from the Israelites. We know that the promised Messiah came. With the angels we sing “Glory to God in the highest!” We live in the light of the Incarnation.

But in a needful and powerful way, Advent links our hearts to the hearts of God’s people who longed for the coming of the Savior. As we survey the carnage of a world wracked with sin, we pine for the second coming of the Savior, when everything wrong will be set right.

We watch. We wait. We long for the day when all will be well. Even now we run on the fuel of hope. And like always, hope comes from the same source. The Lord’s mercies are still new every morning. He is eternally good to those whose hope is in him.

From this hope we take courage. This Advent season, let’s encourage one another. Perhaps these words of Paul’s could be our prayer for each other: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13, NIV)

God, help us to wait with the sure knowledge of your steadfast love.

I'm joining Jennifer Dukes Lee for Share His Story.

Real-life Christmas preparations

"It's the most wonderful time of the year!" Perry Como's voice singing those words is one of my favorite things. Thanksgiving is past, and now it's time to turn our attention to preparations for Christmas. How exciting!

Today I'd like to show you what I've already accomplished with decorating for Christmas.

Well, that's what I would like to show you.  The problem is, I haven't really accomplished anything yet.

It's not that I haven't started. I've managed to put up the tree in the living room:

And I can see from this photo that the tree is leaning to the right a bit, isn't it? Oh dear.

It's not that I'm not looking forward to decorating for Christmas. It's just that I am disorganized and messy. So here's the truth about my Christmas decorating so far:

That's my guest room at the moment. As you can see, the makings of my Christmas decor are currently strewn all over the place. A discerning eye might even catch that my Fall decor is still waiting to be put in the attic.

Now, here's how I want you to see this room, the way it looks when it's all fixed up for guests:



Actually, that's not quite how it looks. I stole a piece of furniture from this room, so things are a little different now. And I had to take out the pretty rug because the dog peed on it. So there's that.

It can be so tempting to try to present only magazine-worthy loveliness on my blog. And I do love to make things pretty and to share ideas. But over this past year I've found that presenting only loveliness doesn't sit quite right with my spirit.

You want to know a secret? A few weeks ago the city of Durham turned off my water. Why? Because I'd lost the water bill and didn't see the warning letter they sent. Thank God I could pay the bill, so my water service was promptly restored, but if you'd seen my house on that day without water things surely wouldn't have looked too magazine-worthy.

That incident reminded me of the time that a good friend told me that there had been a mix-up with her utility bill and that her gas had been shut off. I sympathized with her having to deal with this inconvenience, but secretly I wanted to jump up and down and say, "Thank God! I'm not the only one!"

Maybe you don't have any organizational issues. Maybe you're a person who is naturally tidy and put-together. If so, I admire you greatly. The truth is that I wish I were like you.

But here's another truth, one that I need to learn more fully:

God doesn't wish I were like you. He doesn't wish that I were like anyone but me. He loves me just the way I am. He'll take me just like this—piles of stuff, lost utility bills, and all. Certainly God wants to transform my heart so that I'm more and more like Jesus—but He still wants me to be me. The real me. And that's how He feels about you, too!

So here's to real life: the beautiful and the messy, the organized and the disorganized.

I hope that by next week I will have some beautiful Christmas decor to share with you.  For now, I'll just share this beautiful thought:

Tell me--are you the organized type? Or do you struggle like I do? Do you have "real life" scenes that aren't so pretty?  I'd love to know!

I'm joining these wonderful parties:

Inspire Me Tuesday at A Stroll Thru Life

Share His Story with Jennifer Dukes Lee

Happy Easter

Oh, my friends, I hope that today is filled with blessing for you. I pray that you can gather with others and hear the blessed words, "He is risen!"

But I know that this day may not bring that opportunity. You may be at home with a sick child. You may be ill yourself. You might be in a hospital room, either attending a patient or the patient yourself. You may be holding the hand of a precious loved one as they breathe their last. You might even now be weeping at the death of one of your nearest and dearest.

Wherever you are, take heart. Death has been defeated.

The tomb was empty.

Because Jesus rose from the dead, we will rise.

Because Jesus defeated death, death will not have the final say in our lives.

Wherever you are today, whatever your circumstances, this is the truth. Jesus died and rose again. As final as it seems to us, death will not have the final say. "Oh death, where is your victory? Oh grave, where is your sting? (I Corinthians 15:55).

May you be inspired as I was by reading the words to this old hymn.

We saw Thee not when Thou didst come
To this poor world of sin and death;
Nor yet beheld Thy cottage home,
In that despised Nazareth.
But we believe Thy footsteps trod
Its streets and plains, Thou Son of God.
But we believe Thy footsteps trod
Its streets and plains, Thou Son of God.

We did not see Thee lifted high,
Amid that wild and savage crew;
Nor heard Thy meek, imploring cry,
“Forgive, they know not what they do!”
Yet we believe the deed was done,
That shook the earth and veiled the sun.
But we believe the deed was done,
Which shook the earth and veiled the sun.

We stood not by the empty tomb,
Where late Thy sacred body lay;
Nor sat within that upper room,
Nor met Thee on the open way.
But we believe that angels said,
“Why seek the living with the dead?”
But we believe that angels said,
“Why seek the living with the dead?”

We did not mark the chosen few,
When Thou didst through the clouds ascend,
First lift to Heaven their wondering view,
Then to the earth all prostrate bend;
But we believe that mortal eyes
Beheld that journey to the skies;
But we believe that mortal eyes
Beheld that journey to the skies.

And now that Thou dost reign on high,
And thence Thy waiting people bless,
No ray of glory from the sky
Doth shine upon our wilderness;
But we believe Thy faithful Word,
And trust in our redeeming Lord;
But we believe Thy faithful Word,
And trust in our redeeming Lord.

                                                  --Anne Richter and John Gurney

He is risen indeed!

How to use your phone to be a better parent

In 1991, I had a baby boy. In 1993, I had another baby boy. And in 1997, I had still another baby boy.

Baby boys are my favorite.

Before 1997, I never had a cell phone. But not long after I had that third baby, I had to drive halfway across the country with only my six-year-old, my four-year-old, and my newborn sons for company. After carefully considering the monthly cost, my husband and I decided that I should have a phone with me, just in case of emergency.

I remember that the monthly fee included 30 minutes of talking time. I vowed never to exceed that limit.

Things have changed a bit, haven't they?

Today, I have a cell phone, my husband has a cell phone, and all three sons have cell phones. We do still have a "home phone," but we rarely use it. It's difficult to imagine how we'd get along in the 21st century world without our smart phones.

And yet.

Today is my baby boy's 20th birthday.

Yes, things have changed a bit.

I was proud and excited when my eldest son turned 20. My babies were growing up! Double double digits!

I was a bit more hesitant when my middle son turned 20. Wasn't it all happening a little too quickly?

But today? My BABY is 20 years old? What on earth just happened? And how did it happen so fast?

I know, I know–young mothers don't want to be told to treasure the time with their little ones.

I usually keep my mouth shut, but on this day, there's one thing I wish I could tell my young mom friends. Just one piece of advice: the best way to use your phone.

Use it to take pictures.

At every age, every stage, take pictures of your kids. Print some of them out. You don't have to make show-stopping scrapbooks with them, or even organize them into albums. Just take the pictures, because the years are going to fly by much faster than you think.

And then, after you take those pictures?

Put down your phone.

I'm serious. Put it down. Turn it off if you have to.

One of the best things about having a smartphone, one of these incredible little hand-held computers, is that we have the ability to keep up with the outside world even when we're stuck in one place. What an amazing gift! Yet it comes with a side effect: fear of missing out. "FoMO" even has a dictionary definition now: "anxiety that an exciting or interesting event may currently be happening elsewhere, often aroused by posts seen on a social media website."

The horribly ironic thing about the fear of missing out, of course, is that while we're busy being afraid that we might miss something exciting elsewhere, we actually ARE missing something right in front of us.

No, each event might not be exciting. Some are downright boring. Some are actually best forgotten.

But the events of our real lives and the lives of our loved ones are worth paying attention to. And by the time you scroll through Instagram or check the Facebook status of your friends, they'll have passed.

I'll never claim to be an expert mom. But I have learned one thing in two and a half decades of being a mother:

The days are long, but the years are short.

Put down your phone and enjoy them.

On procrastinating

I'm guessing I'm not the only one who was horrified this morning to look at the calendar and realize that it's September 1.  Where has the time gone??

Weren't we just saying "Happy New Year!"?  Or, at the very least, "Happy Memorial Day"?

As it happens, my eye fell this morning on a message I really needed to see:

"Procrastination is a thief which robs you of money by stealing your time." 

Those words were spoken by Dr. Nido R. Qubein, President of the university where my youngest son just started college.  They're a bit startling to me--but they're quite true, aren't they?

And as I was reflecting on Dr. Quebein's words, it occurred to me that procrastination steals more than time and money.  Most important for me right now, I realize that procrastination is stealing my peace of mind.

Oh, procrastinating gives me a sense of control, that's for sure.  "I don't feel like doing that right now," I'll tell myself.  "I need to rest."  Or "I'd rather do this instead."  But it's a false sense of control.

Those tasks I put off don't go away, not even in my thoughts.  Instead, they loom large--often much larger in imagination than they ever were in reality.

The steps that need to be taken can look awfully daunting from the bottom--but the climb grows shorter each time I simply put one foot in front of the other.

I don't do very well with New Year's resolutions, but this year I'm hoping to make an Autumn resolution. My goal is to stop putting things off.  I'm hoping to stop allowing the thief of procrastination rob me of my time and my peace of mind.

Are you prone to procrastination?  Or have you found a way to overcome it?  Please share!

Courage for today

I have set the Lord always before me:
Because He is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken (Psalm 16:8).

What I need to hear today

Maybe it's what you need, too.

Every blessing to you,

The blessing of being welcome

I talked with the receptionist in my doctor's office this morning.  She was helpful and friendly, and when I thanked her, she answered cheerfully, "You're welcome."

I was stunned at how glad my heart was to hear these simple words.

You don't hear them much any more, do you?  People say "thank you" a lot, but the reply is usually "No problem," "Sure thing," or maybe "My pleasure."  Very few people use the traditional reply  of "You're welcome."

It occurred to me that it's sad for "you're welcome" to have fallen into disuse.  Why?  Because I need to be reminded that I'm welcome.  For someone to make space in his or her life for me--to help me, to assist me, to encourage me, to accommodate me--those things are all important.  Those are the kinds of things to which I might say "thank you," and rightly so.   Somehow it's very reassuring to me to hear that I am welcome in that person's life and space.


I need to hear it from God, too.  As I consider all his blessings, I can't help but thank him.  I need to be reminded that he's glad to bless me, glad to make room for me, glad to share his life with me.   I need to listen as his gentle voice says, "You're welcome."

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above,
and comes down from the Father of lights, 

with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning" (James 1:17, NKJV).

What about you?

**I'm joining Vanessa and Heather At the Picket Fence for Inspiration Friday 

and Amanda at Serenity Now for Weekend Bloggy Reading.**

Kids' rooms

I'll never forget preparing the nursery for my baby.  This was back before blogging--even before digital cameras!  But I selected just the right shade of yellow for the walls, just the right accessories from the Classic Winnie-the-Pooh line, just the right fabric for curtains.

And then came the room I decorated for two little boys.  They loved fishing, and I used that theme for their room.  I painted the walls a deep olive green, made cafe' curtains that hung from bamboo poles, hung my son's first rod and reel on the wall, found perfect linens for their bunkbeds.  It was boyish yet beautiful.

And then there was a jungle-themed room, then a space-themed room, then an Army-themed room.  That one was the best, full of authentic items purchased from an Army surplus store--even camouflage netting used as a window treatment.

But now?  This is what my oldest son's room looks like right now:

That's an actual, unretouched photo.  Can you believe it?

You see, our home is in Durham, North Carolina.  We're just a few minutes from the campus of Duke University, where my son will be a senior.  Will's friends from all over the country asked if they could store things here for the summer.

Doesn't look too great, does it?  But it works for now, because Will is not here.  He's spending the summer in Rome, working as an intern in the office of the U.S. Ambassador to the Vatican.  (And if I can be a proud mom for a minute, I'll say that there is only one intern in that office--my Will.)

So Will's room at home is a storage room this summer, but it doesn't matter.  We just close the door and wait for August, when his friends will collect their things.

If you have little kids, my advice is to have fun decorating their rooms.  Involve them in the process, and create spaces that they'll enjoy.  But remember that the hearts and minds of the little ones who play and sleep there are way more important than the decor.

I'm joining Show Us Your Kids' Rooms party at Kelly's Korner.

For the beauty of the earth

One of the great blessings in my life is the privilege of living in an old neighborhood.  Our house is fairly new (built in 2004), but it was built on a lot in one of Durham's older neighborhoods.  That translates into lots of trees and shrubbery.  All these photos were taken within a block of our house over the past few weeks.

Now the azaleas and dogwoods and wisteria have mostly faded, but look what I found peeking out this morning:

The first hydrangea bloom!  Later it will be brilliant blue, but isn't the subtle color of these early petals lovely?

May the miracle of springtime bring hope to our hearts!

For the beauty of the earth,
For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies:
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our sacrifice of praise!
                                                                     --Folliot Pierpoint

~What's your favorite springtime scene?

This changes everything

Several weeks ago I had the privilege of watching a skywriter in action. It was great fun to watch as the pilot dipped and swerved and spelled out a wonderful message: "Love God."



The message made me think of Deuteronomy 6, when the people of God are admonished: "Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength." More than just good advice, this commandment makes up part of the Shema and is a central piece of Jewish teaching.

You may remember the story recorded in Matthew 22, when a Pharisee asked Jesus, "What is the greatest commandment in the Law?"

Jesus answered, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets (Matthew 22:37-40, NKJV).

That pilot picked a powerful couple of words to write in the sky.

But this Eastertide, as I consider the death of Jesus, I keep thinking of how different the skywriter's message would have been if he'd added a comma between the two words. I'm a grammar nerd, I know, but bear with me. Think about it. "Love God" is a good message--worthy of being written in the sky!--but "Love, God" is amazing.

It's no surprise that God would expect us to love him. He's God, after all; he deserves to be adored and worshipped. But that he would love us so much that he would give his son to die for us? That's astounding! Stupendous! Awe-inspiring!

John 3:16 is so familiar to us that it has become almost hackneyed. We look for it on signs in the stands at ballgames or emblazoned on billboards. Read it again today:

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

That's the story of Good Friday: the love of God poured out for us. "This is how God showed his love among us: he sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins" (I John 4:9-10, NIV).

Write it in the sky! Proclaim it from the rooftops!

LOVE, GOD

Joining Amanda at Serenity Now for Weekend Bloggy Reading 

and Vanessa and Heather At the Picket Fence for Inspiration Friday.