Oct 12, 2011 | Baby Photos
Did I ever tell you about the time Auntie Brenda gave the Tank a plaid shirt and I was so inspired by it, and by an email a friend sent me {thanks, Alison!}, that I had to turn the Tank into a Lumberjack?
It totally happened.
He was about a month and a half old at the time.
And napping.
But I made him an axe.
And a tree for chopping down.
See?
And then Agnes and I found it so inspiring we thought he should try his hand at fishing too, since that’s also manly and strong like a Tank.
He brought his dog to sit under the tree by the pond. And he caught a fish!
Totally happened.
Forgot to tell you.
The end.
xCC
Oct 11, 2011 | A Repat, Scotland, South Africa
Our plane touched down nearly a month ago and it is still strange and wonderful and topsy-turvy and weird, all wrapped into one. And that’s somehow a good thing. Like a salad with strong-flavoured greens, sliced strawberries, toasted egg noodles and bacon. Who knows why, it all gets together and it’s good. Splash some olive oil and white wine vinegar on top and invite me over, please. Partay in the mizouth.
Life has had a few new things to teach me in this fortnight and a half. If you’re organizational by nature, you might qualify some lessons as more important than others, but I don’t think it’s necessary to create categories and put these thoughts in boxes. They all have the potential to lead to positive growth, and for that reason, they’re valuable.
Here are a few highlights from the schoolbook of re-entry:
- Country music makes me sad. There, I said it. I didn’t realize it until now. I suppose I didn’t listen to it a lot before now, but country has morphed from what it was when I was a kid to almost-rock without some of the pretentiousness and cool, and I like that about it. But it makes me sad. I almost wept as some fella crooned about how I was gonna miss this season when it’s gone, staring at the boys in the backseat, the Bear making his baby brother giggle while we waited for the doors to open at preschool. Seems the sad stuff makes me sad, and the fun and happy stuff makes me sad because it’s usually about misbehaving and I just think all that misbehaving can only lead to bad consequences.
- You can’t trust Walmart to have the lowest prices. I depended on Pick n Pay 100% back in SA for all my grocery needs {except diapers} because we got such sweet discounts there through our health insurance. But now I have to shop around. Ouch. #Walmartfail
- People assess themselves as lovable or unlovable based on the way they are treated by others. And people are largely able or unable to receive the love of God based on how lovable or unlovable they feel, how deserving or undeserving they might assess themselves to be. So it makes sense on a whole ‘nother level that Jesus consistently instructed us to love one another. Love our neighbour. Love our enemies. Love, love love. Because the ability of many folks to receive God’s love, and the sacrifice of Jesus, can largely depend on their ability to believe that God could be loving, and if He is, He could love them.
- The Pirates are not looking to deliver on a promising season this year. Translation: my beloved alma mater’s football team is Trifling. Yep, that’s a capital T. However, they are still worthy of love and I hope they know that.
{that’s the Bear, but it looks like the Tank, hey?}
- I am no longer confident of my ability to use of the English language. I have three and a half sets of English swirling around in my brain. {The half set being reserved for Afrikaans speakers of English in South Africa, who usually have slightly different word choices than the native English speakers. Or maybe it’s for people from Glasgow.} If requested to get a band-aid or a plaster for the Bear’s eina or boo-boo or owie, I might say I’m coming soon, in a wee while, or just now, after I go to the loo or toilet or restroom to fetch it. I struggle to decide which word to use to communicate something with my own mother. What?? I have now decided whichever word comes first is the one that’s coming out of my mouth so if you haven’t a clue what I’m blethering about, nae bother, just ask.
I rather think one especially lovely thing about life is that we get to keep learning. And this season sure has me off to a good start.
xCC
Oct 8, 2011 | Stories
There’s a funny thing we often say when we’re trying to get the Bear to do something. He’s been able to spell his name aloud for a while, and he’s able to write it down on a piece of paper (although he writes the letters in order, he doesn’t always put them beside each other on the page). He can sing his ABC’s or It’s Raining, It’s Pouring and do the little motions our sweet Agnes taught him.
But give him an audience — a grandma or grandpa on Skype, an uncle he hasn’t seen for a while, a family friend he’s meeting for the first time — and he is usually not interested in displaying what we think are some of his wonderful achievements. He’s not about to perform, and the first thing one of us usually says in comment is:
He’s nobody’s monkey.
In contrast, I’ve been thinking a bit about the expectations this Mama Bear sets for herself. You might have them too — thoughts about what kind of spouse, parent, friend or employee you have to be? Because you say so?
Turns out I’m my own monkey, trying to clang the tiny cymbals and turn the handle on the box at the same time.
I (finally) became aware of one of those expectations the other day, and I thought it might be worthwhile bringing it your attention, too. Is the fairness expectation turning your handle?
Click over to Signposts today to join the discussion!
xCC
Oct 5, 2011 | The Good Word, The Parenthood
We are firm believers in the swaddle. Any clue what I’m talking about? I’m talking about the baby swaddle — the thing you do with a blanket, where you put it beneath a baby, put their arms down by their sides and wrap the blanket tightly around them, tucking it underneath so that it constrains them and holds them snug. At first it might seem like an unpleasant thing for the baby, constraining them with the baby version of a straitjacket, but by and by perhaps I’ll convince you that it’s a good thing.
Something you may or may not know about newborns is that when they’re fresh out of the box, so to speak, they have absolutely no control over their arms or legs. Maybe very little control, but it seems pretty much like none. They hit themselves in the head and wonder who did it. They scratch their own little faces with their sharp little baby nails, and then cry as if to say, “Who’s scratching me? Stop it!”
With the Bear, and again with the Tank, we found swaddling a really effective method of sleep training. Wrapping them up tightly inside a blanket or a thin sheet (when it was summer and too hot for a blanket) became a signal to them that it was time for a snooze. A swaddle, a pacifier/dummy/binker/whateveryouliketocallit in the mouth, a snug spot in the crib and they don’t need much more direction for the route to dreamland. Apparently it also mimics the feeling of being snuggled up inside the womb, which is a bonus.
Initially, both of our boys fought the swaddle.
You’d wrap them up snug and they’d wriggle and squirm and sometimes cry. The Hubs often stood by their cribs, holding each of them to his chest, firmly swaddled, and he’d gently swoosh them back and forth while they struggled against his firm grip. Eventually, it {almost} always settled them down, and once they learned that it was a cue, it became a tool for good.
I believe there are seasons in our lives when God “swaddles” us. For one reason or another, His hand is holding us firmly in one place, even though we feel like we’re ready for movement, for breakthrough, for a chance to use the arms and legs we’ve been given.
You might feel swaddled:
- By a job you’re ready to be out of, but the job hunt is getting you nowhere.
- By your finances constraining you and hindering your movements
- In a relationship with a roommate, a professor, a colleague at work — you’re ready for it to be done, but you’re stuck for now.
- In a season of life that’s just hard, but not over yet.
The thing is, sometimes we’re kind of like the newborn flailing her arms because she doesn’t know any better. God in His graciousness is appointing this time and this season, as a time for growth, perhaps a time for us to rest, a time to learn to trust Him, and a time to gain strength.
Most of us know that a beautiful butterfly doesn’t start out that way. They start out as little caterpillars, not particularly exciting creatures, definitely incapable of flying. But after munching on leaves for a good wee while, their metamorphosis begins. And during the pupa, or “chrysalis” stage, growth and differentiation occur. The caterpillar is becoming a butterfly.
The hard skin that surrounds the butterfly, called a chrysalis, keeps it swaddled until this life phase is finished. Once the butterfly is ready to shed the chrysalis, she uses her wings to break through. The strength that she gains while pushing her way out with her wings is a necessary part of the process. Once she’s out, she’ll sit on her old shell, harden her wings and get ready for take off!
Without the chrysalis stage, the butterfly will only ever be a caterpillar. But if she allows the process to do its good work, she will emerge on the other side, strong enough to fly.
If you’re in a season that feels like a straitjacket, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s time to sit still. You are a part of the process that will grow you and help you become who you are meant to be. When the caterpillar is fully grown, it makes a button of silk to attach itself to a leaf or a twig, and then it sheds its skin to reveal that chrysalis layer — the hardened skin underneath. Some butterflies are able to move their abdomen while inside their chrysalis to make sounds or scare away potential predators.
Isaiah 30:18 says:
Therefore the Lord will wait, that He may be gracious to you; And therefore He will be exalted, that He may have mercy on you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for Him.
Trust the God who created the seasons as a part of life — the God who is also sovereign over them. Though it seems like He is waiting, He is being gracious. Though it seems like He isn’t listening, He is showing mercy. Like a year of work at a pawn shop, or a week of extra waiting for a baby’s arrival, the Author and Finisher of your faith has blessings in store for those who wait on Him. And in the waiting, you’ll gain the strength you need for the road ahead.
xCC
Oct 4, 2011 | Scotland, The Good Word
It was seven years ago this week, {October 10th to be exact} the day I’ve held in my heart as the day that I knew I’d heard the Lord irrevocably say “Go.” I was waiting for an answer to a prayer I’d been praying for a long time, and it came in a slightly unexpected way.
Back in 2004, among those long days of summer where darkness barely has a moment to lay across the land, I took a brief trip to Scotland with a team of people that were preparing to plant a church there. I wasn’t planning to help plant a church in Scotland. I’d just been invited by a darling friend who said she’d been praying about the trip and felt the Lord direct her to invite me. I prayed and kind of thought, “well, why not?”
For a week, we walked the streets of Edinburgh, visited Linlithgow, Stirling and the historic fields at Bannockburn (think the major battle in Braveheart) and scouted out the land. We spoke to college students and prayed a lot. I met a friend named Julie who’d come up from London to join the team, and who instantly become very dear to my heart. {She was later a bridesmaid at my wedding.} I decided at the end of the trip to change my flight to spend a couple more days in London with Julie before heading home.
{My first look over Edinburgh from Arthur’s Seat, June 2004}
And then a strange thing happened. The plane took off as we left Edinburgh, London-bound, and I found myself crying. And not like glistening tears, more like borderline ugly cry/hide my face from the passengers sitting beside me as I try to tell the flight attendant, Sure, I’d like some breakfast. Not understanding the meaning of it, I began to pray.
Those prayers over the next few days in London and back in NC eventually resulted in a very specific one, from my heart, but I think originating first in the Lord’s. Remembering him considering getting out of the boat to walk to Jesus, I echoed the words of Peter in a simple prayer:
Lord, if it’s You, bid me come.
{Indirection which may lead to direction: In the story I’m referencing from Matthew 14, the disciples are in a boat, late at night, on a stormy sea, when Jesus comes walking to them on the water. Peter sees Jesus and asks, “Lord, if it’s You, bid me come to You on the water.” Jesus says, “Come” and Peter gets out of the boat and walks on the water to Him. He gets nervous and starts sinking, but that’s a story for another day.}
For four months, alongside the other people I was praying for and things I was praying about, my heart’s cry repeated that simple chorus: Lord, if it’s You, bid me come.
My stirring was so strongly leaning towards certainty that the Lord’s will was for me to return to Scotland, I spoke with a pastor at my church (the church In Greenville where HH and I are now based, coming full circle) and we agreed doing an internship at a different church up in the Triangle (the Raleigh-Durham-Chapel-Hill area of North Carolina) would be a good idea in preparation, since many folks moving to Scotland would be leaving from that church.
Less than two months later, I’d moved home, taken up a job at a pawn shop (because I had to pay bills), and begun an internship at King’s Park International Church. I wasn’t confident that I’d heard the Lord’s call yet, but I kind of felt like the phone was already ringing.
Then one weekend I was back in Greenville for a church service where another dear friend of mine was being prayed over because she was moving to work for a church in New York. There was a guest speaker that Sunday, and his sermon quickly got my attention.
The title of the sermon was “Living on the Water” and some of the key points I made note of that day were:
- God is calling us today to leave our boats and live on the water with Him. Boats are manmade and though you put your trust, beliefs and traditions in them, God knows how to sink those boats.
- There is a cost involved in stepping away from our own boat.
The speaker went on to talk about the different types of boats we build, and he spoke specifically about the importance of believing and not doubting, by saying, “Unbelief makes you double-minded. This gets in you and you question everything. ‘I want to be sincere… I want to be sure…’ God wants you to come out of the boat full of what-ifs and trust Him. You will not be the first person God never met at their faith.“
I think I added these thoughts in my notes: It was dark and Peter didn’t see a brilliant light and certainty and clearness. Jesus told Him to step out By Faith, Not by Sight.
Do you ever get the feeling that a speaker, though talking to a large crowd, was somehow backstage reading your mail before he got up to speak? There I was.
I got back home to Raleigh that evening and with honest and sincere faith, prayed (among other things) “Lord, forgive me for sitting in the double-minded boat of unbelief. I’ve been afraid to apply Your Word to my life and trust that I hear from You. Instead of beginning to step out and trust You, I’ve made up excuses, opted for easier routes, and even listened to the enemy whispering “Did God really say…”
I also admitted in prayer, “I’ve been afraid to think that the desires of my heart (like going to Scotland) could or would be fulfilled, and I felt like I didn’t deserve it and I wasn’t in the right place.”
{Have you ever been there?}
That night, I was finally certain of the Lord’s calling. Certain He had a big plan, and certain it wouldn’t happen if I didn’t get out of the boat.
I couldn’t sum up the lessons, the adventures, the joy, and even the challenges that have brought me from that day to this one in a hundred nutshell sermons. But if there’s one thing I can communicate about it all right here and now, it’s my certainty that walking on water will only happen if we’re willing to get out of the boat.
xCC
I create resources to help people find deeper, more meaningful relationships with God through pursuing, pondering, and prayer. The "Shop" link above will take you to the home of many of the lovely resources I’ve created to help you keep walking one day deeper with Jesus.