Oct 24, 2011 | The Good Word
There are times in the life of every woman {and perhaps every man – I don’t know, I’ve never been one} where even though all seems well, the heart still feels like a stormy sea. Although you can’t really explain it, there’s peace on the outside, but inside, the waves are a-crashing.
There are times in the life of every woman and man — I’m more certain about this one — where the waves are literally a-crashing, and it seems like walls are falling down around you. You are not sure which way is up.
But there are times, too, when all of life seems a peaceful stream, the sun is shining the radio is tuning your favorite jam, and it feels like things are happening just as they should be. I like those times.
I like easy.
No matter the scenario, I think there’s a valuable thing we can continually pray for.
FOCUS.
Just this morning, I found myself, in the midst of a sun-shiny moment, asking the Lord for focus:
“…Help me to see where I need to re-focus. How I can make better use of the time You’ve given me by re-prioritizing. Help me to not be distracted by things that do not need my focus or attention, so that I can accomplish the things I was created to do with the time that I have.”
The Hubs and I recently caught up with some old friends we haven’t seen for a long time, whom we’re not likely to see again for a wee while. We just had a couple of hours together. We laughed and chatted about life and family and the typical catching-up stuff, and then we got into a long conversation, a friendly sort of debate, about a hypothetical topic, which was to do with our mutual faith.
It was never heated or unpleasant, mind you, it was just a lengthy discussion.
When we were in the car afterwards, I voiced regret about how we’d spent the time. More than a theological debate, I wished we’d made use of that time to really find out how those friends were doing. How was their faith? Were they in a healthy community? How could we pray for them or encourage them?
I was sorry to have spent so much time in a way that would’ve been okay if we saw each other every other week, mayhaps, but in this situation, some of the time seemed, well, wasted.
See this photo right here?
And this one right here?
They are very, very similar, in terms of composition — same subject, same framing, same setting, same lighting.
The only difference — which makes a big difference — is the focus. Looking back and forth from one photo to the other, you’ll realize that one simple adjustment completely changes the picture.
And what we decide to focus on completely changes our picture.
This Sunday at church, I was thankful, for yet another reason, that we were starting the time together by simply getting our focus off of ourselves. Setting aside our problems and concerns. Things we were happy about and things we were bothered about. We just put our eyes on God and His goodness, and focused on praising Him, worshiping Him. He was our focus.
When it feels like life is full of problems and we give our full attention to them, we often lose sight of the things that we should be focusing on. Like being thankful for family or health, a job, a place to live, and more than anything, the finished work of Christ on the cross. Our irrevocable redemption. The fierce and true love of an un-changing God.
Even when things are well, we can tend to lose focus and get distracted. There is a reason you and I are here on this Earth. There are good works, prepared in advance for us to do. {Eph. 2:10} And sometimes I think being comfortable makes us lazy. Short-term decisions hinder long-term goals.
We waste the only commodity we can’t buy more of.
So whether life is moonshine and roses or weeds and brussel sprouts today, ask for help finding the right focus. It will completely change the picture.
xCC
Oct 23, 2011 | South Africa
The Hubs has taken some B-E-A-UT-Tee-full photos over the past few months. In my humble opinion. But I haven’t shared too many of them here because, well, we been kinda busy and I haven’t gone fishing through his iPhoto library for a while.
These are some favorites from our last bit of time in SA.
Exhibit A. Isn’t this one great? So moody…makes me feel like I’m waiting for something.
And this one from lunch in Knysna one day. Not long before we left SA. Not necessarily beautiful, but special for a heap of other reasons. Why is HH acting crazy? He doesn’t exactly look like that in real life.
C. How can you not like this one?
D. Sigh.
E. One of my many favorites from the Kruger trip. Isn’t she beautiful?
But this last one?
This is an I-could-cry-I-love-this-one-so-much original.
Straight from the day before we left Bloemfontein…
Love it.
Gotta go find a tissue.
Later.
xCC
Oct 20, 2011 | Baby Photos
We caught up with some dear friends the other weekend.
Dear enough that we were actually willing to get in a car and drive a wee while and spend the night with them, even though I really don’t want to even catch a glimpse of a suitcase right now.
I packed some carry-all sort of sturdy open-top bags instead. No idea what to call those.
But they don’t zip, and that feels good.
We took some pictures in the backyard. Especially of one particular fella that we’re fond of.
And then we got some rather fetching shots of all the kiddos and a wheel barrow. Isn’t their daughter a cutie pie?
I like that one even better! Good luck getting three kids to look the same way at the same time.
Here’s the favorite:
Hello, pumpkin!
xCC
Oct 19, 2011 | The Good Word
Ages and ages and ages ago, {and by that I mean two years ago} I talked about how much I love the way Jesus swam upstream. He was always doing the opposite of what people expected, building up the people everyone else was tearing down, and tearing down the practices of the people who liked to build themselves up.
When Jesus met Zacchaeus, it was one of those moments. Everyone else wondered why Jesus would hang out with the guy. Jesus swam upstream and turned Z’s life upside down.
Are we supposed to do the same thing? Could we?
I’m talking about that big question in a little package over at Signposts today so click here to read on.
There’s also a pretty picture that the Hubs took in Kruger Park. Bonus!
He also took a picture of this fish, which didn’t make it upstream. Ouch!
But I think the bird ended up letting him go because he couldn’t eat a fish while it was schtuck, yes, schtuck, on the end of his beak.
Maybe you better click over to Signposts. Things are just getting silly around here.
xCC
P.S. Just making sure you didn’t miss this morning’s post — not to confuse you — Seven Shots Won’t Take Down This Bear. It’s a pretty good story. Least I think so. But it wasn’t good at the time. Well that goes without saying. Nevermind.
Oct 19, 2011 | The Good Word, The Parenthood
Because of our transition from Scotland to South Africa, and then from South Africa to North Carolina, we knew the Bear was probably a little behind on his vaccinations. The Tank was following the South African schedule (every country does it differently) but we knew the Bear would need different things coming here for preschool, and never got around to getting him up to date before the move since we weren’t sure what was what, and I guess we had kindofalotgoingon.
Although the preschool was very gracious in allowing the Bear to venture in with my promise that we’d be taking care of his vaccinations soon, I felt like it was time to bite the bullet {where does that expression come from? Who bites bullets?} and get it done. I don’t fancy pain when it’s my own, but seeing my children in pain brings all kinds of strange discomfort my way.
After a sign in and a hang out and some paperwork and some more hanging out and some chatting with a little boy and his dad (neither of whom spoke English) in the waiting area, we were eventually called back, and a couple of nurses had some important news to deliver: the Bear needed seven shots. He wasn’t just a little behind.
He was still in the first 100 meters of his swim and this was a triathlon.
Call me what you want, {ninnymuggins?} but I felt like the best choice was to get it over with. I didn’t think the Bear would be interested in me dragging him back again the next week for more, especially since he’d know what was coming the second time around.
{Taken just before the first Bear Bear & G-pa outing a couple of weeks ago!}
My eyes were welling up as shot number one finished and the Bear was nothing shy of mortified. His last shot was too long ago for him to remember, so this was a new and wretched experience.
At shot two, things got interesting. The Bear wriggled an arm out from my grasp, grabbed at the needle to get it away from him, and in the process poked the nurse administering the shot. To put it dramatically (because this is a blog, people!)
My son stabbed a nurse with a syringe last week.
I had no idea it happened.
She continued to administer another in that leg and two more in the other, and then left at the pause before the last two vaccinations would poke the Bear’s wee arms.
After a few moments I asked the other nurse if the first one was coming back, and she explained that the first nurse was “rinsing out” and she’d be administering the last two herself. Otay.
So the Bear got the last two — more tears, more awful sadness, more me feeling wretched and full of remorse… and then it was done.
Only, it wasn’t.
We were back out in the waiting room, me consoling the Bear it was over, scrambling for something happy in my purse (thank you, lady at the bank for the lollipop last week!!!), just waiting for the printout of his updated vaccination records so that we could be on our not-particularly-merry way.
Only, we couldn’t.
The nurse said she needed to speak to me about something, and asked that I step into a side room, sort of a conference room, where the head nurse joined her. Since the Bear stabbed a nurse with a syringe that he had already been poked with, they requested permission to draw blood for testing to see if the nurse may have possibly contracted any infectious diseases from our darling three-year-old.
Oh, yes.
They mentioned some things about the nurse’s health and her job and you don’t have to do it, but we sure do wish you would but you can refuse you just let us know what is going to work for you.
They very hesitantly and gently made the request and repeatedly assured me of my right to refuse. By the end of the conversation I was emotionally beside myself. I’d had a Mountain Dew at lunch (special treat, whoo hoo), so my blood sugar had been on a big wave, ripping curl twenty minutes before.
I was now under water with sand in my teeth.
When I thought about this poor nurse who knew we’d just returned from South Africa and was probably very nervous and scared, my heart went out to her. But then I thought about this poor Bear whose Mama just promised him this drama was done. I didn’t want to be a liar.
We could’ve come back another day but did we want to?
Eventually I decided we would let them draw blood, but I first called Hero Hubs to ask his opinion. He asked a few good questions, which I asked them and then answered, and he agreed with the decision, and said he’d be on his way home from work right then. We decided to wait until he got there for them to take blood.
The Hubs was half an hour away but the time passed very quickly. Bear hadn’t the foggiest what was going on, but my heart was sore. When we took the Bear back through to the room for the procedure and he began to understand what was going on, he was very hesitant and I was very thankful HH had come.
HH held him still while they drew blood from his arm.
We had flashbacks to his circumcision, and his painfully clear blue eyes at two months old.
His eyes were painfully clear green this time, full of tears, and I had a million thoughts in a single moment.
The strangest thought to meet me there was thankfulness.
There are people who are sick, or whose children have chronic health problems, or have very painful or potentially terminal illnesses, and these types of moments are a routine part of life.
How fortunate am I that I’ve only seen this little boy in such pain twice in his three years of life? And praise the Lord for the blood he is able to give — healthy enough that this simple procedure will perhaps be a little sore tomorrow, but it’ll be over.
For the peace of mind {and perhaps job security} of a nurse serving the community, if I could reason it out for him plainly, he might make the same choice.
The Lord looked on while His Son shed blood for the good of humanity — and I wonder what His eyes looked like, how they could ever still hold compassion in the midst of such pain.
And praise the Lord He wasn’t my son.
I’m not Mary. And I don’t want to be.
My son gets to receive the free gift her son shed His blood for — and not just for peace of mind, but for peace of soul. That we could be at – one, the task of atonement completed.
Back in the lobby, two lollipops and thirty-some ginormous stickers in tow, the Bear was already recovering from the ride on the drama llama. A little sore and mopey the next morning, but fine at preschool and happy in the afternoon.
His Mama has renewed thankfulness for life, health, and the gift one Father was willing to give, the gift one Son was willing to pay for.
And though his thighs still look a little like pincushions, praise the Lord again, seven shots didn’t take down our Bear.
xCC
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