A Slice of Humble Pie

My husband has a good job with a nice salary, and until April of this year, I brought in some income, too.  Christmases in the past involved many presents.  We've never been the type of parents to buy our children the latest/greatest items, but we were definitely generous.  We also made lots of cookies and treats for as many friends as we could think of.  Christmas involved a LOT of money and wrapping paper.

This year it didn't.  This year, I'm not working and we are paying for a mortgage in a house where we don't live.  This year I spent many, many hours hiding in our little space knitting and sewing frantically so I could have gifts to give our Hall children and our ISCA daughters.

I was a bit embarrassed to be able to give so little compared to the past.  We told our children we wanted nothing but their help with painting our house (neutral colors so it will rent) for Christmas.  It was a slim Christmas under the tree and in the stockings.

Despite being asked not to give us anything, my oldest daughter had asked me to set aside the day after Christmas to spend with her.  She wanted to give me a Christmas gift that required me to be with her.  I love to be surprised, so I  asked her not to tell me what it was.  Many ideas went through  my head; massage, manicure, tattoo....(HA)

When she announced at breakfast yesterday that she was taking me on an "update Mom's look" shopping day, I was excited, but knew that I couldn't afford to buy anything.  Still, it was a wonderful idea, and I was so excited to spend the day with her.  I got up to pay for breakfast, and she insisted on paying.  How sweet!

We drove up to the mall that houses my favorite (over-priced) store.  It was going to be so fun letting her pick things out for me to try.  Once the house rents, I could hopefully come back and find them again.  We narrowed things down to one item, and I prepared to leave the store.  Then SHE bought the item.  WHAT?  Wait one minute.  The shopping trip thing is my gift to the girls, not the other way around.

At first I was completely humiliated.  Had it really come to this.  My full-time student daughter makes more than we do?  Is my wardrobe so pitiful that she feels she has to spend her hard earned money to save herself from the embarrassment of being seen with me?

Then I swallowed my pride and looked at her face.  She was beaming.  She truly just wanted to bless me with a shirt...and another shirt...and two pairs of jeans...and breakfast and lunch.  Even though it was very difficult to do, I let her spoil me for the day.  The truth is, spending the day with her was the best gift, but I do like the clothes a lot, too.

This isn't a perfect analogy, but it made me think about my relationship with God a little bit.  I want to be able to point to things in my life and say, "I did this for you, God."  That way, I can feel like I earned His blessings.  I don't have to recognize that my gifts to Him don't even add up to the value of some cheap candy in a Christmas stocking.

The truth is, I have nothing to give Him, but He showers me with His lavish grace every moment of every day.  My attitude needs to be the same as it was at the end of the day with my daughter.  The best part is spending time with my Heavenly Father, but the blessings are nice, too.

Identity Theft

Sometimes my posts are very well thought out.  The topic I choose to write about has been stewing in my mind and heart for a while, and I've spent a good bit of time in thought and prayer before I strike the keyboard.

Other times, I write as a source of release.  Somehow seeing my less-filtered, gut reaction in black and white is cathartic.  On these occasions, I rarely post links or share the entry with others.  It is solely meant to be part of my healing process.

I think today I might be combining these two approaches.  I have not spent a lot of time in thought, because thinking about this brings up too many memories and, quite simply, hurts too much.  However, it is something that constantly hovers in the back of my mind, and world events often drag it kicking and screaming to the forefront, where I am forced to spend some contemplative energy on it. 

The shooting in Connecticut was horrific.  Most of what I know is from internet news sites and Facebook posts....followed by Snopes.com clarifications.  However, I know enough to realize this was an epic tragedy that has radically affected many lives and has upset a nation of families.

Each of us has life experiences that specifically prepare us to intercede for and comfort individuals throughout their trials.  Right now, I am led to pray long and hard for the family of the shooter.  I know how hard it is to love someone who does something horrible.  Every good memory of them becomes a source of guilt.  The happy times are blanketed in a thick coat of shame and heartache.  Every photo album and family video suddenly morphs from a walk and skip down memory lane into a lumbering funeral march of doubt and analyses. This family once known by their names or career, but now identified by the violent acts of one member, needs love and care and prayers and peace and mercy.  And hope...oh, how they need hope.

Please, Father, hold that family, too.

Dream a Little Dream

I will admit, for the most part I am a practical, 21st Century American.  As such, I find myself regularly having to challenge my worldview, values and beliefs.  One such belief is that the spiritual realm of angels and demons ceased to manifest itself among mortals when John penned the last word of Revelation.  Visions and dreams are merely hallucinations and our subconscious mind expressing suppressed thoughts and emotions.  Right?

Until last night, that was most certainly my belief.

Let me back up a week or so.  At this point in time, I am questioning almost every decision we have made this decade.  Why did we move to Arkansas?  Why did we change churches?  Why did I go back to work?  Why did we move out of our house before we sold it?  These and so many more questions have consumed me.

Yesterday was the proverbial "straw" that broke the camels back.  Due to our financial situation, I have been attempting to make everyone's Christmas gift this year.  Once again, I am trying to do a good thing, and therefore expect the process to go smoothly.  As I sat down to my sewing machine, it was anything but smooth.  The machine made horrific groans as I attempted to stitch a simple seam, and the thread that spewed forth was most definitely as "unsmooth" as it comes.

On top of all the other stress I've experienced in the past few weeks, now I can't make the presents I had planned....and there is no back-up plan B.  I realize my children are mature, Jesus-loving young adults who will completely understand the situation, and probably won't think I'm a terrible mother who doesn't give good things to her children at major Christian holidays when all their other friends are being showered with iCrap....but I just wanted to do this for them, dangit!~!!!!

So, after consuming an oh-so-healthy dinner of Chocolate Chex and rotting my brain with a few two many Netflix sit-coms, feeling like the sorriest excuse for a wife and mother and child of God ever to walk this planet, I went to bed.  That's when my belief system was blown wide open.  When my conscious mind was on autopilot, the spiritual world took the wheel.

Hear me now and believe me later...I simply don't buy into this stuff, at least not in America.  Maybe this kind-of thing happens in South American jungles or tiny villages in Asian mountain ranges, but it most certainly does not happen in middle-class, suburban, hipster towns like Fayetteville.  Right?

So there I was, in my dream, just standing on a bridge talking to a young woman.  I didn't recognize her in the least, but I felt like I might know her somehow.  She asked me how to know she's making the right decision, and I proceeded to tell her who Jesus is.

That's right...when I wasn't consciously choosing to think about God, I shared the Gospel with someone questioning life!

I know that might seem like a "coincidence," but I woke up absolutely consumed with JOY!  You see, my goal in life is to get to that point at which, when I am not distracted by this world, my default thought life is all Jesus, only Jesus, completely Jesus.  That dream, and the fact that I remember it, was a tiny little gift from my Father.

Even though things are so very difficult right now, and I'm having to make so many sacrifices and turn my back on so much  I once held dear, its all worth it to reach that goal.

God did speak to me through a dream.  It did happen....in America....to me : )