Apr 18, 2012 | The Good Word
Another story the Bear has taken a liking to in his children’s Bible  is the story of Elijah, when his little brook dries up and he goes to stay with a widow in Zarephath. {It’s in 1 Kings 17 if you’d like to enjoy it later.} In the story, Elijah finds this widow and asks her for a glass of water. After she obliges him, he asks her for some bread.
She doesn’t like that idea so much.
You see, the widow and her young son (remember in Elijah’s day women didn’t work much outside the home so a woman without a husband usually had to count on children or other family members to provide for her) only had a little flour and a little oil left, and with drought going on that was kind of a big pwobwum. (As Ming Ming, the Wonder Pet might put it. Can you tell I’ve been spending heaps of time with my children?)
But Elijah told the woman not to worry, and that if she went and made him some bread, her flour and oil would not run out until the Lord sent rain onto the Earth again. She trusted him, made him some bread (I bet it was kind of like this recipe) and just as Elijah had said, her flour and oil did not run out, and she was able to feed herself, her son, and Elijah throughout the drought.
Good story, hey?
One evening last month while I was washing the dishes after dinner that story came to mind as I glanced over at the bottle of olive oil that sits besides our stovetop on the counter. I love olive oil and use it kind of a lot, and the bottle was about to run out. It was perhaps a week or so before the end of the month. Our finances were tight and getting another big old bottle of olive oil was going to have to wait.
As I pondered that for a moment, the story came to mind, and I prayed:
“Lord, you could make that bottle of olive oil just like the widow’s in the story. Lord, will you make it so that that bottle of oil won’t run out?”
It was a simple sort of “Why not ask?” prayer — I was genuine in asking, but it wasn’t going to crush my faith if nothing happened.
But something happened.
And here’s what happened.
Every once in a while, my Mom makes a Sam’s Club run. It’s in the next town over so it’s not convenient to go all the time, but when she goes she gets diapers and baby wipes for me and I pay her back. They’re such a good deal compared to the prices everywhere else!
She picked up diapers and wipes for me at Sam’s, and she also decided just to buy some extra things to bless us with — like a ginormous box of brownie mix (whoo-hoo!), oats for granola making, and {want to take a guess…?}
a gargantuan bottle of olive oil!
She didn’t know I’d prayed that little prayer. {She does know I really like olive oil.}
But what a blessing that, in a way slightly different than what I’d expected, God provided olive oil, which is likely to not run out until our personal financial drought is over. And then some.
Beth Moore once wrote that she sensed the Lord speaking to her one day when she was praying:
“My child, you believe Me for so little. Don’t be so safe in the things you pray. Who are you trying to keep from looking foolish? Me or you?” — {Beth Moore, Praying God’s Word}
This simple interaction between our amazing Creator and tiny (but getting bigger!) me just reminded me that if we have childlike faith, we won’t to be afraid to ask big and believe big. The Bear asked just this week if it could be his birthday and he could be four. “I’ve been three a long time…” he said wistfully.
Don’t worry about looking foolish. Ask for the impossible. Believe for the incredible. What do you have to lose? Maybe the Lord will answer in the way you hope, maybe He’ll help you understand if He does something different. Don’t be afraid to ask!
xCC
Jan 2, 2012 | The Good Word
Listen to the creak of the door — I am opening the honesty box again. Not to tell you about how I am a bit grouchy because I’m sleep-deprived {or that someone once told me what you’re doing on New Year’s day is what you’ll be doing all year long so I was careful not to do any cooking, cleaning, or laundry yesterday} but rather to be honest about the fact that this is not my favourite time of year. It is not.
Not. Not.
When I look around the house and see all these lovely Christmas decorations that need to be packed away, and when I feel daunted by the year ahead and the fact that I don’t know what it holds and the last one was both wonderful and full of wonderful challenges, I don’t always smile.
The New Year feels a little… bleh.
But thanks be to the Lord, two things have coincided to assist in changing my bleh attitude. First, the Bible reading plan I’ve been working my way through — The One Year Bible
— stretches out the Psalms and the Proverbs so that you get your Psalm on and, have some Proverbial input every day all year long.
That glorious Proverbial input has been a constant reminder to look for wisdom and seek out understanding.
Also, my dear friend Pam is doing a 2012 Romp through the Proverbs, and I’m sharing there today on Proverbs 2.
And a beautiful promise is contained therein: that if you look for wisdom, the Lord gives it. If you tune your ears to it, and cry out for understanding, He will meet you.
And despite the challenges, and even the discouragements of the year gone by, this gives me HOPE. That wonderful anchor to our soul-boats, that hope that doesn’t disappoint, is mine.
I’ve done a bit of snowboarding in my day, the Hubs, much more. He often speaks about the importance of believing you can do it. The minute you think you’re going to fall — when the thought has barely crossed your mind, you find yourself on your bum — kaboonk — with a what just happened and a dern I was cruising till that thought crossed my mind!
It is essential that we believe for better, else we won’t be able to receive better. It is essential that we hope and pray, believing our prayers matter, believing God does move.
I’ve been praying for wisdom to mark my New Year, and funny enough, I think holding on to hope is one of the wisest things I can do.
I may still feel a little bleh — partly because I like Christmas decorations, partly because of fear — but my hope is being renewed. Great things are ahead. God is sovereign over everything.
As I was writing this, I received a wonderful message from my friend Michelle and her words sum it up so well:
This year I am making it my goal, my mission to live my life with the most hope ever. And to leak this hope where ever I go. I say all of this for the reason to encourage you to let go and let hope. There is a grace to leave discouragement, hopelessness and disappointment behind if you will only receive this Hope invitation from Him.
I am hope-full, that God will meet me with wisdom, as a wife and a parent and a writer, a daughter and a hopeful baker of tasty bread this year, but whether I find the wisdom to navigate each area of life, somehow I’m certain the decision to hope can permeate every area, and always for the good.
Let’s Let go and Let Hope this year.
xCC
Nov 5, 2011 | The Good Word
I like to sing. Not necessarily because I’m exceptionally skillful in that department, but just because it lifts my spirits. I feel a little happier, the load feels a little lighter, when I’m singing.
For a while though, you wouldn’t hear me belting out the lyrics of “When I Fall in Love” {as performed in High School Show Choir} around our house. Because somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I’d become convinced that it probably got on the Hubs’ nerves to hear me squawking out a song, whether the lyrics were from my latest favorite Christian song or a century-old anthem.
Not wanting to annoy him, I decided to hush.
But when I came home from the hospital with our second precious baby boy, I was singing to the rafters again. My justification was that it’s good for babies. It’s good for them to hear music, it’s good for you to talk to them, and in the Tank’s case, it kept him peaceful through a lengthy diaper change and helped him fall asleep.
So, at the risk of spraying the Hubs in the face with a bottle of annoying, I decided to wholeheartedly sing. A lot.
And then a funny thing happened. He wrote me a card — I think for Mother’s Day — and one of the things he said was, “I love how you fill our house with music. I love it when you sing.”
I could not have been more surprised. I was so surprised I had to ask him about it.
Doesn’t it annoy you when I sing? You mean I don’t get on your nerves?
The answer was no — and I realized a little lie had crept in, and I’d been letting that little lie tell me what to do, and what not to do. Meanwhile, something was missing from our home — a source of joy was nearly stolen, because un-truth had become truth for me.
I don’t know whether you have an awesome singing voice or the ability to make music with an instrument, but I want you to know that your life can sing.
You have your own lyrics. You have your own gifts. And sometimes fear of how other people will receive your gifts can hinder you from giving them. Fear of what other people will say or think about your art can incorrectly define you — whether your art includes baking or dancing or teaching people how to manage their finances or serving a cup of coffee with a smile.
Un-truth will draw lines, put boundaries around places in your mind and in your life. Un-truth will tell you where you can or cannot go, what you can or cannot do.
But there’s no one like you. And no one can achieve the things you were created for.
You are fearfully and wonderfully made.
And that is the truth.
We are God’s workmanship — created in Jesus for good works, which God planned out before we were even born — a plan for what He gifted us to do with our lives. {Eph. 2:10, my paraphrase}
So what’s stopping you from making your music? Are you letting your life sing?
xCC
Oct 29, 2011 | Giveaways, Hometastic Goodness
Hey Guys and Gals. I have several important things to tell you.
1. I tried this Baked Chicken with Peaches recipe this week and it was super easy and really good. The chicken breasts are so ginormous here that I only used four (and halved the rest of the recipe) and still had chicken left over for chicken pot pie two nights later, and a little chicken salad for lunch today. Score! I feel morally compelled to share this recipe with you. Not sharing it would, ethically, just be wrong.
But why are the chicken breasts so big here? I don’t know whether to be happy or concerned. Or both.
2. This season of transition is great, and hard at the same time. {Could I say grard?} I cry. On a regular basis. I laugh a lot, too. But these sweet boys of mine are a gift in the process. I shared at Signposts today about how they keep me looking up. If you’ve ever fussed at your kids and then regretted it, click over…you might be encouraged.
3. Tomorrow. October 29, 2011. Meet me back here for a giveaway. Three readers will win 25 free Christmas cards at Shutterfly! And that’s 25 cards for each reader, in case you were worried you’d win and have to figure out how to divide 25 by 3.
So don’t forget to drop by tomorrow! Entering will be easy, so don’t worry about studying up in preparation. And don’t forget to try those peaches.
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
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