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Friday, August 31, 2007
"And, Colin? You've gotta flush!" My sigh is loud. I wouldn't want anyone to miss it. I quickly move from room to room trying desperately to create some semblance of order. The baby is actually happy in the bouncy seat for the time being. I am well aware that it will most likely be a very short time. I sort the laundry and head into each child's room. "Maddy, why haven't you put away your clothes? I asked you to do that three times earlier. You need to do something the first time I ask you! Put them away now please, neatly, and bring down your basket when you're done." I lift the baby from his seat, get a burp and feel warm stuff running down my back. After a quick check to make sure none got on the floor, I trot downstairs, barely remembering by the time I reach the bottom to wipe off my shirt. "Someone didn't clear their place from lunch!" I call upstairs to whomever is listening. Probably no one, I think to myself. I sigh again, put the baby on a blanket, and rub my temples. Why, Lord, can't they remember the things I ask? Why can't they do things the first time? I repeat myself over and over and yet I might as well be talking to the pot rack. I know how you feel, God answers. You do? Yes. Remember last week when I told you to hold your tongue? How many times have I said that to you? Oh, now you're making this about me? No fair. Or what about the times I've asked you to not be so sensitive? That's a tough one for you. You're taking the wind out of my sails now, God. I know I'm not perfect. I'm only asking you to guide them gently. Shepherd them as I do you. They will learn more by your example than your stern words. You're the perfect parent, God. Just be with me and teach me... That's all I wanted to hear. You got it. "Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed." Prov. 16:3  Come visit me at my blog home, Fruit in Season. Labels: Christine's Articles, Motherhood, Obedience, relationship with God Leave a comment... 7 Comments Links to this post My family is so lucky they have me. I shudder to think of their floundering about should I happen to disappear. I mean, seriously, without me they wouldn't know the right way to fill the dishwasher, the right way to get to any destination, the right way to say prayers at night, or the right way to organize the pantry. I happen to be blessed with the precise knowledge for performing perfectly every task in our home and then some. Nothing would be done correctly without my presence. Yikes! When I put it that way, I don't sound very pleasant, do I? And yet, I have been infected since birth with a very serious personality disorder. Right-itis: n, a condition common in, but not exclusive to, first-born children that attacks the infected person with an unquenchable need to be right at all times. It often results in conflict with family members. It is not contagious in peer groups but can be spread down generational lines. I come from a proper Italian family and can argue with the best of 'em. I also do a mean "I told you so...". I enjoy being right, don't you? As I've gotten older, however, a question keeps knocking at my door: I don't think I can be both. Oh, sure, I can be right some of the time. I can even be right most of the time and achieve holiness. But I need to shed the prideful desire to show others that I'm right like a snake sheds its skin. It might take some wriggling and rubbing against something rough, but eventually I will leave it behind. What, then, does holiness look like?
Sure, I might just happen to know the best way to the ice cream shop in rush hour traffic, but what does that matter? Is showing frustration when no one puts the toys away in their correct bins going to bring me closer to "being of one mind with God"? I don't think so. I need treatment for my condition. Treatment that is eternal. I need Jesus. Romans 3:22-24 Come visit me at my blog home, Fruit in Season. Labels: Christine's Articles, Holiness, Righteousness Leave a comment... 10 Comments Links to this post  "But it's so hard, Mom!" Colin sniffled through his tears. He fought them, but the difficulty in producing the desired violin hand position won out in the end. He stopped, took a deep breath, and looked at me with discouragement on his face. "You know, I had a teacher who made me cry, too," I said. "He would make me try and try and try until I thought I'd never succeed. I would come home after every lesson and cry to my mom. She listened and asked if I wanted to quit, or find a new teacher. But I told her he was so good and I wanted to stay with him. The tears didn't stop me from wanting to improve. And you know what?" "What?" "I stayed with him and got better and better. Sometimes the things that are most worth getting take the most work and the most tears." I said the words, gave him a hug, and helped him finish practicing. I sat on the couch as Colin packed up and then skipped upstairs to his room, presumably to his enormous collection of legos, and I kissed the little head of my 3-month-old resting just below my chin. I thought about what I had just told my oldest and wondered if I really believed it myself. Colin's teacher tells him, "Practice doesn't make perfect, practice makes permanent." Colin could practice for hours a day, but if he was practicing the wrong way, the habits he formed would not allow him to fulfill his potential. The same goes for me. What habits have I formed, through daily practice, that bring me closer to my God? Habits are less energy-consuming than things we must think about to achieve. Are my practices bringing me toward holiness? Or are the things I am doing from day to day actually making permanent those things that take me farther from Christ-likeness? I, myself, give in to tears as I think of how hard a life of godliness can be. I struggle at times with the mundane, the dailiness, the wearying drudgeries of life. But that's when I most need to listen to my own words to my son. That's when I need to remember that every action I make is moving me toward some type of permanence. That's when I must keep in mind that the things of worth often require a payment of tears. I remember the rewards of pleasing my teacher- the same one that made me cry- by creating beautiful music with my violin. How much more will I bring glory to the Eternal Teacher by practicing, making permanent, a life of godly love and service. Visit my personal blog at Fruit in Season. Labels: Christine's Articles, life Leave a comment... 4 Comments Links to this post "Get a glass and stand by the sink." When I read this story, I couldn't help but picture myself, at my sink, crying my tears. And now, years later, this image still lingers. When I am broken, exhausted, worn down by life, I can imagine Jesus filling me if I ask. And I can see those around me, those that I love and those I don't even know, being blessed by the Jesus in me. I want to be the glass. Because Jesus is the Water. Story from Tender Mercies for a Mother's Soul by Angela Thomas Guffey. Visit my personal blog at Fruit in Season. Labels: Christine's Articles, Encouragement, relationship with Christ Leave a comment... 7 Comments Links to this post  The breeze is nearly still as I sit out on the porch trying to calm a fussing baby. The air is fragrant with dampness and spring flowers. The quiet, dusk sounds of our neighborhood are drowned out by the whimpers and cries of our youngest as I try to soothe him. The notes of the windchimes occasionally poke through and make themselves known. Then I hear it. The soft "zhhhhhhhhh" of a hummingbird joining me. Its jagged, yet deliberate, flight toward the hanging feeder catches my eye and I watch it as it approaches for a drink. Sip, sip, sip. Then, with another "zhhhhhhhhh", it darts away into the fading light of the day. We can see them from our living room as they come periodically throughout the day. They never stay longer than a few seconds- just long enough to take a sip of nourishment- and are soon on their way again. For some reason they bring me peace. Their tiny bodies are so perfect, the blur of their wings mesmerizes me, their graceful hovering movement is unique. For me, God is very present in the hummingbird. Jesus answered her, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water." Their habit of coming briefly just for a sip reminds me that I, too, can take my sips at the fountain bit by bit. I cannot, in this season of my life, find time for a long leisurely visit in my hectic day. But I have moments. Moments of activity I perform by rote. Moments of blessing with my children. Moments of daily routine. All these are time enough for a sip. Will I remember, as do the hummingbirds, where I can find the nourishment, the Living Water? They don't seem to get lost. Their short visits to our porch are second nature, punctuating their days, keeping them filled and never thirsty. How many times do I find myself at the end of my rope, when all I really need to keep my grip is a simple and habitual sip, sip, sip? How do I get to the place of habit that I long to find? Watch the hummingbird. It's my reminder to you... Sip...sip...sip... Photo credit Labels: Christine's Articles Leave a comment... 8 Comments Links to this post There's nothing like a funeral to make you look carefully at your life. It's a time for contemplation, repentence, and most of all, grace. As a singer I have attended and performed many funerals. The most meaningful part for me, whether I shared the life we are celebrating or not, is when friends and family stand to recount a memory. Emotions sit right at the surface, people are vulnerable and transparent, even those who rarely cry, and the dead are honored in such a special way. My grandfather died last week at the age of 79. Actually, he was a leap year baby and his birthday of February 29, 1928 afforded him only 19 real birthdays, as we always joked with him. I packed up our newborn, leaving the other three in Jason's care, and flew to North Carolina to attend the funeral, share memories with my family and support my Nanny. Zachary, though completely unaware of his effect on everyone, was a healing presence, a tiny angel sent to give solace. We stood around before the actual service as friends of Papa poured in the church, took my Nanny in their arms and laughed and cried together remembering his life. As I looked at all of these men and women, most of them 70 or above, I was taken by the sheer amount of history in the room. Every one of them had a story. Each one had made mistakes in their lives and lived to tell about them. Maybe some were harboring feelings of pain and guilt even then. Their careworn faces smiled and their eyes shone as they opened their hearts to receive the blessings of friendship and fellowship as they celebrated my grandfather. What will my legacy be? I am creating what will someday be my history. Now is my chance to write a story that my children, friends and loved ones will want retold again and again. Like Joshua and the Israelites, I am carefully placing stones day after day that will tell my story to the generations that follow. Am I placing stones of worry? Frustration? Impatience? Or am I tenderly laying stones of faith, mercy, love and the faithfulness of God? It's amazing how much my children remember from day to day. It gives me pause to think that each action or word in my day could make or break theirs. And it's humbling to hear the positive words my friends and family use to describe me. Then again, it is an arrow to the heart to hear a rebuke from my husband or read scripture and know that God's discipline is upon me. What keeps me on the upward climb to Christ-likeness is knowing that my life has an eternal influence, or eternal consequences, depending on how I live it. So as I stood back and watched the people who loved my grandfather fellowship with one another, I looked ahead to the time when people will meet to remember me. I pray that each moment in my life, the good and the bad, leads to a lesson learned. I want my legacy to be one that points others toward the saving grace of Jesus.
Visit my personal blog at Fruit in Season. Labels: Christian walk, Christine's Articles, finishing well Leave a comment... 13 Comments Links to this post  "There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.' So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and travelled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country and he began to be in need..." From Luke 15 Father, give me... Give me time. Give me money. Give me control. Give me freedom. I am guilty of this. I am guilty of wanting to take what God intends for me to use in the boundary of His will and instead trying to make it mine. I just know I can use it more efficiently on my own. And it's so much easier, too. I don't want to be tied down or accountable. I am able on my own to accomplish my day's tasks- caring for my family, serving my community, making my house into a home day after day. But then, no. I squander it. All I desire for good works against me. I find myself frail and weak. I find myself insufficient. I find I was much better off when I was within my Father's gates, using His gifts the way He intended. But where am I now? ...and travelled to a distant country... I am alone. I have strayed far from home and can't see my way back. I am lost, set adrift by my own selfishness and pride. Can I make the journey back? I must try. But wait... But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him... "While the prodigal son was still thinking about what he would say to his father,... his father ran to meet him. What does that mean, to run to meet him, but to assure him of his mercy in advance." (Saint Augustine) Mercy in advance. God sees me. He runs to meet me. He knows my heart and has merely waited for it to turn. I see His mercy, I know His love. I again allow myself to be wrapped in His arms and forgiven. No words are needed, but I say them anyway, "I am not worthy, let me simply serve you..." But my worth is found at the cross. I am His child. Forgiveness is sweet and fellowship is sweeter. Thank you, Father. Though this scene is played over again and again, the ending is always the same. The Father is always watching the horizon, waiting for our return. Will you pray with me? Loving Father, thank you for your mercy in advance. Let us always seek you, draw near to you, desire you above all else. And when we fail, open your arms to us and show us what true love is so we may show it to others. Amen. Visit my personal blog at Fruit in Season. Labels: Christian walk, Christine's Articles, Forgiveness, Hope Leave a comment... 9 Comments Links to this post  Mothers are not just those women who bear children. Mothers are not just those who adopt children. Mothers are those who desire children, who love children, who care for children not their own. Mothers are the women in our lives who bend down to talk with our children and look them in the eye. Mothers are the women who bring meals to the sick and needy among us. Mothers are the women who nurture us in so many different ways, showing God's love to all of God's children. This mother's day is for all of us. All of you. Happy Mother's Day!
Photo credit Labels: Christine's Articles, Motherhood Leave a comment... 4 Comments Links to this post We have reached full toddlerhood in our home. Elliot, our youngest at 16 months, our easy, fit-into-our-family-with-no-effort baby, the joyful glue that brings his siblings together in caring for him, has become a bit....difficult. He loathes being changed. The writhing, squirming, fighting, kicking, and screeching that accompanies a new diaper and a box of wipes would easily get him accepted into a college-level wrestling program with full scholarship. He has begun pushing his older sister when she has something he wants, throwing food on the floor just for kicks, and displaying dissatisfaction with the slightest attempt at discipline. A few days ago, when my mother (who's here to help during my bedrest) was horrible enough to take something away from him, he began wailing and crying and carrying on as if his life was ending. He threw himself on the floor, arms splayed, and with a thump dropped his forehead to the carpet. Then, for a moment, he lifted his head to peek and make sure... "Is she still watching?" ...and, seeing that she was, continued his tirade. Oh, my, is that our human nature so obviously rearing its head in our little sweet boy? I have to admit that I did the unthinkable and laughed. Maybe it's because this time I am not in control of the discipline- it doesn't work very well from the couch. And yet his tantrum and obvious desire for attention got me to thinking. I am prone to doing the same thing. When I am frustrated, disappointed, angry, annoyed, I want someone to notice. I try and hide my emotions for a time but they will inevitably make their way to the surface and I know you'll agree with me when I say that there's no satisfaction in throwing a tantrum by yourself. I'd much rather have a sympathetic ear, someone that clicks their tongue in understanding, to keep me company at my pity party. But maturity brings a different view. Sure, we have friends, spouses, family to lend an ear if we need it and God can certainly use them for comfort, healing and encouragement. But what does the scripture say about airing our grievances?
Ahhhh, now doesn't that feel better? I receive so much more reward when I lay out my list of complaints before God instead of those around me. I receive refreshment, perspective, grace, relief, love and a new start. It is tempting to complain to others, and I do still fall into that trap, but it often will leave me feeling more lousy than before I vented my frustrations and will most likely leave the hearer with some of my negativity as well. God is the healer. God is the author of forgiveness. God is my creator and knows my thoughts before I even give them voice. With Him I find acceptance and accountability and can leave His feet with a renewed sense of peace. Elliot, I hope, will learn this lesson too. If I do my job, I'll be able to point him in the direction of the one who is always watching, no matter how badly we act, and willing to pick up our pieces and recraft them into a new creation time and time again. His toddler tantrums will eventually be a thing of the past, so I can snicker a bit now, but as he matures Elliot will learn of the One who loves him enough to listen to his complaints and turn the time of sharing into a relationship with Him. Labels: Christine's Articles Leave a comment... 7 Comments Links to this post  I sat quietly by her isolette as the machines offered their beeps and whooshes. I breathed in the medicinal scents and breathed out prayers. I sang to her, touched her little feet, and just waited. The waiting was long- two-and-a-half months- but each day brought us closer to her homecoming. I watched as other babies came and went, and other parents cried and laughed, all the while treasuring even the slightest interaction with my little one-and-a-half pounder. Her hand barely covered my fingernail; her cry was a kittenish one; her fully-opened diaper was the size of a postcard; her chances for overcoming the dozens of hurdles in her path were slim. But we waited.
There were many times I couldn't pray. I was weary, emotionally raw and too much in pain from my csection to think straight. I felt buoyed up by the prayers of friends and family, but at some deep level I wondered what those prayers meant. There were prayers for Madalyn's healing. What if she didn't survive? There were prayers for my strength. Why did I feel as if I couldn't get out of bed? There were prayers for each milestone to be met. What if she didn't meet any? I was painfully aware of the fact that I would not allow myself to think beyond each day. I didn't want to look forward to birthday parties that would never happen, hugs I might not receive, pony tails I wouldn't be able to put in her hair, if...if... I found myself asking my mom this question as she cared for me, "What if she doesn't make it through unscathed; will you love her just as much?" I was so in love with this little skin-and-bones miracle and I was petrified that others wouldn't see her as I did, or even worse, that if something were to happen, even I wouldn't love her as I should. Only when I finally heard God amidst my fear did I relax into mothering this child: As I love you with your weaknesses and shortcomings, so will you love her, no matter what.
That was the moment I learned the true value of prayer. I didn't need a "yes" to my requests, I simply needed to know they were heard. I didn't need Madalyn to be perfect, I simply needed to know that God was in her imperfections. I didn't didn't even need her to survive to understand that prayer was about me and God and how I let Him be my peace. The lessons I learned amidst the machines as I sat near my tiny daughter forever changed my view of God, prayer and unconditional love. As I look at my petite 4-year-old, I remember all that I felt. She did come through unscathed, nothing short of a miracle, but what I see now is that the real miracle was within me- my acceptance, my letting go, my peace. She is who God made her to be, and part of her purpose here was to teach her mom the most precious of lessons. Labels: Christine's Articles, Faith, Love, Prayer Leave a comment... 17 Comments Links to this post Carol had the hard job. She started this blog off with a wonderful post, reminding us of why we are in this community of women to begin with. I can now settle us into our coffee break, as we share in fellowship and encouragement, by highlighting 2 Cor. 12:9 (which I do very well, by the way, cracked pot that I am):
When my sister and I were kids, we had an hour limit on our TV time. For many years we chose to watch Little House on the Prairie (5:00pm on channel 11) as a family, foregoing other less-valuable shows in favor of the adventures of the Ingalls family. We would all settle down in the family room, my dad lying on the floor with a magazine, as we got wrapped up in Mary's quiet obedience, Pa's hard work and love of family, Carrie's little-girl smile, Ma's gentleness, and Laura's buck teeth and spunk. I think every little girl related to Laura above all. She had an energy and fire about her that rang true for us, and we loved her. Now with Colin, our 6-year-old, I am reading the second book in the Little House series. We came across this passage and it has stuck with me all week.
Wow, that Caroline! What a mom! I don't remember ever hearing her speak a harsh word or raise her tone of voice. There was always gentleness in her spirit and soft words from her mouth. Ma simply spoke Laura's name and, even in the midst of Laura's frustration and little-girl tiredness, calmed her down as I only wish I could do with my own children! But Laura still complained internally. I sense more in me that reflects Laura in this passage than Ma. I respond to God's soft whispers and the Holy Spirit's nudgings with internal grumbling, even while obeying Him. Then God said, "Christine..." How many times do I hear that still, small voice and argue with it? More often than I'd like to admit. "But God, I'm tired and I don't want to cook dinner. I'd rather just call for take out..." Grumble, grumble, grumble. "But God, the way they treated me is not fair, why should I forgive?" "But God, I really want to look at a few more blogs instead of clean the bathroom..." Complain, complain, complain. "But God..." "But..." And you know, if we argue and complain enough, God's voice doesn't get louder, as mine would if my children were to complain, but softer. God doesn't draw nearer to make sure we hear. Instead He withdraws and lets us go our own way for a time, till we realize that we need Him to guide us and correct us if we are to remain in communion with Him. I so want to be able to practice "first-time obedience" with my Father, in the same way I teach my kids to respond to me. Not that they have that down pat, mind you, but we're working on it. Why? Because, as their mom, I am to have only their ultimate good in mind, and they are to trust that that's true. Because of God's perfect nature, and because he told us so, we know that God only has our best interests at heart.
If I can trust that, then the still, small voice will be enough. I will listen, and even if I just hear, "Christine...", I will know that I am to follow His voice. I am to take every thought captive for Christ, even the grumbling and complaining, and let myself be led. Then I'll be able to rest in God, who knows me fully, and sit back in full obedience and comfort, regardless of the circumstances. Though I wish I was more like Ma, I can learn from Laura. I can learn that even in disagreement, displeasure and reluctant obedience, God wants what's best for me and will stop at nothing to gently call me back to the place of contentment- the place where I am in complete communion with Him. Labels: Christine's Articles, Obedience Leave a comment... 14 Comments Links to this post  Ever since she was a child, Christine has loved learning. As an elementary school student she would ask for extra homework, and while that practice didn’t continue, she always loved school. She continued seeking knowledge through her college days earning advanced degrees in music and education and expecting to go out into the world and pass on her love of learning to those around her. This dream has become a reality but by very different means. Christine began her journey with Christ as a 20-year-old, finding the joy that comes from releasing perfectionism and embracing grace, and in the decade and a half that followed her conversion from atheist to Christian her unfolding life has continued to amaze her. The goal of teaching music was fulfilled in music ministry and she is now a music and arts director at a large church in the Midwest. She has found her best teachers in her husband of 7 years, and her children, ages 6, 4, and 1, and is looking forward to adding another little teacher to her family in May. Flexibility, a term she never thought she would associate with herself, is now equivalent to survival as Christine tries to balance church work, family and school at home. Christine has redirected her passion for learning to include, above all, God’s Word and resources on godly marriage and raising joyful children. The topic of marriage is Christine’s joy and she desires to teach other women the rewards of living in God’s will in their homes. While still a work in progress, she loves teaching what she learns through her own trials, failures, and successes. Christine’s writing can also be found at her website www.fruitinseason.blogspot.com. Labels: Christine's Articles, The Blog Team Leave a comment... 2 Comments Links to this post
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