How Far Can Riches Take You?

"How Far Can Riches Take You?," the e-mail asked along with a picture of Leonardo DiCaprio as The Great Jay Gatsby.

If you have read the book, I think you would agree it gives an honest answer to that question. Even a Biblical answer. The Bible tells us that the "love of money is the root of evil." In the story of Gatsby, it certainly made people miserable, although its hard to tell if they ever realized the root cause. Daisy couldn't seem to escape from its grasp.

I think that question is one of the (many) reasons I love Fitzgerald's Gatsby. Let's face it, the lure of money is a temptation for most of us living in America's abundance. Even a glimpse of lavish wealth can make us discontent. Or at the very least curious, feeding our fascination with Hollywood and the rich and famous. A fascination that is a waste of time.

Gatsby exhibits lavish wealth of the highest order. He incites the curiosity. He has almost everything he could ever want. In the end, even extravagant riches couldn't get him what he wanted and so much appears to be wasted.

I wish I was immune to the fascination with riches. Sometimes I am. Sometimes I live with an attitude of thanksgiving for what I have. Sometimes I live in the moment taking in the lavish blessings of the life God has given me. Those are the times when peace and contentment have an easier time sticking.

But other times, I find myself wanting more. Prestige, wealth; it all looks so alluring. Its a mirage that promises it will take you far, only to lead you further and further away from the things that really mean something. In the end, the pursuit of riches for where they can take you is a waste of time and even worse, a waste of life.

"She's got an indiscreet voice," I remarked. "It's full of--"
I hesitated.
"Her voice is full of money," he said suddenly.
That was it. I'd never understood before. It was full of money--that was the inexhaustible charm that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it, the cymbals' song of it...High in a white palace the king's daughter, the golden girl... 

-Taken from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Lessons from the Floss

I never used to floss my teeth. You could call me a dentist's nightmare, or dream depending on how you looked at it.

I would try. I would even buy more floss than I needed just in case the whole flossing thing caught. And maybe for a few days, before or after my dentist appointment, I would be consistent. Until the night would come when I was too tired to floss.

So I wouldn't.

I would give the same "tired" excuse night after night until I didn't think about flossing anymore. At least until another dentist appointment loomed on the horizon.

Then I would try again, for a few days.

New habits are hard to start.

As a conscientious first born, I couldn't let the flossing thing go. So I kept trying. The same way at the same time.

They say insanity is trying the same thing over and over while expecting a different result. My idea of a flossing habit was looking more and more insane.

And then Lent rolled around.

This year for Lent I gave up eating after dinner. One of my strategies for keeping Lent, became brushing my teeth while the kids were getting ready for bed. Somehow, brushing my teeth at 8 pm made flossing an easier thing to add on. It took away my "tired" excuse. It also gave me added motivation to keep my Lenten promise.

Lent has come and gone, and I have managed to stay on the flossing bandwagon. I just needed to change things up. Sometimes an old strategy needs a little tweaking (or a time change) for a new habit to catch on.

I think that could be said of a lot of things, not just learning to floss.

The Gift of Going Second

Another piano recital is officially under her belt. 

She was nervous this time around. One song was played by memory, the other with the book. She was afraid she would make a mistake. 

When it was over, she was all smiles. She may or may not have made a mistake, if she did they were small. She didn't have to go first and by the time her turn rolled around, others had already made small mistakes. 

"I wasn't nervous anymore when I heard others make mistakes," she said. "It made me think if I made a mistake it would be okay."

She was given a gift by those who went before her. In her book Permission to Speak Freely, Anne Jackson calls this the gift of going second. 

In Mya's case the gift involved the removal of the expectation to be perfect. A weighty load.

I have been given this gift too. A confession from a friend brings the realization that I am not alone in my struggle. It gives me the courage to confess and pass the gift on to others. It removes the expectation of perfection.

It is hard to go first, to be vulnerable and open yourself up to judgment. Sometimes judgment is all you receive. But sometimes, you find that you are not the only one to struggle. Sometimes by going first, you lighten the load of a fellow traveler. And if they follow your example and pass the gift on, beautiful ripples begin to appear one after the other as the gift of going second gets passed from one broken person to another.

Light and Happy Endings

I never watched the season 3 finale of Downton Abbey. I heard rumors, spoilers, of what may or may not have happened. The penultimate episode of season 3 ended on such a great note, a happy ending. I've decided that is the ending I want. 

So I didn't watch the final episode and I'm not sure if I ever will (at least until season 4 comes out). 

Call it denial. 

I'm okay with that. I want my happy ending!

Sometimes I wish I could fix the endings in real life as easily. If I stay inside, concentrate on my family, block out the rest of the world, then maybe I can pretend away the hard, painful things. If I ignore them they don't exist.

But life doesn't work that way. I only have to take one step out of my front door to find people struggling with hard things. Hurt is all around us. 

And while the hurt and pain can make the world look like an awfully dark place, it also creates a greater opportunity for the light to shine. Jesus did not hide from the painful, ugly things of the world. He walked right up to them and offered a hand. He brought light. He is light.

It is easier to ignore the pain, but as a Christ-follower, that is not what we are called to.

We are to be the light. 

I'm not always sure what this looks like in real life. What does it mean to be light? While the doing may look different in every situation, the motivation I think is the same. I think it looks like love.

Love that comes from knowing Christ and spills out of us as light. Love directed by the Holy Spirit as a prompt to bring a meal or babysit or pray. It means getting out of your comfort zone, getting your hands dirty, and hurting with those who hurt. 

The world is full of darkness. We need to let a little light shine.

This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine.

Hide it under a bushel, no, I'm going to let it shine.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Bread and Wine

Preparing food is a form of art, I think.

It is an art that I don't possess. To me, the act of making food is a task. Just another part of my day as mom.

I recently read the book Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist that changed my perspective. It made me look at meal making as more than a task. Throughout the book she reminded me of the beauty of sharing a meal. She impressed on me the art of making food (which does not mean the food is made perfectly) and of creating something to share with those you love around a table.

In one of the last chapters she writes,

This is what I want you to do: I want  you to tell someone you love them, and dinner's at six. I want you to throw open your front door and welcome the people you love into the inevitable mess with hugs and laughter. I want you to light a burner on the stove, to chop and stir and season with love and abandon. Begin with an onion and a drizzle of olive oil, and go from there, any one of a million different places, any one of a million different meals. 

Gather the people you love around your table and feed them with love and honesty and creativity. Feed them with your hands and the flavors and smells that remind you of home and beauty and the best stories you've ever heard, the best stories you've ever lived.

I love that. I love the reminder that making a meal along with hospitality are acts of love that are really more about the people you are sharing them with than the food you are preparing.

In my last post I shared my desire to invest in relationships more. Shauna's book inspired me in one way to act this out. I want to follow-through on what she asked, to invite people to meet around my table, to share food, and life and love.

I may not be able to create meals that others consider art; but if I make them with love and a willingness to share, I think that will be more than enough.

Better

As oftentimes happens, one thing tends to lead to another.

I saw a preview for the movie The Great Gatsby the other night. It piqued my interest in the book which is considered a classic. I like to read classics.

Later that week I happened to be in the library with only one kid which means I can actually spend a little time in the grown-up book section. I found myself pulling F. Scott Fitzgerald's Great Gatsby off the shelf. Next to it was a book of short stories also by Fitzgerald. The cover story was, The Curious Life of Benjamin Button.

I remember seeing the movie several years ago. The story line was intriguing to me (a boy is born an old man and as his life progresses gets younger and younger until he ends the way most of us begin as a baby), so I pulled it, you know, to see how the movie compared to the original story.

I don't remember a ton of the movie, but I do remember that there is a girl who is in and out of Benjamin's life. She is the love interest and if I remember correctly, in the movie she is with Benjamin to the end.

There is a love interest in the original short story, but it doesn't last. The younger Benjamin gets the more they drift apart. He has a very successful life given his curious circumstances, but the end of the story is kind of depressing. He slips away basically alone.

In the movie, someone cared. That is so much better.

I follow Donald Miller on Facebook. He recently had the following status update:  All the recent passings remind me life is short. Doesn't make me want to succeed, though, makes me want to get quality time with loved ones.

Its a good reminder, because the only thing worth investing in are relationships with those we share this speck of time with. The rest of the stuff and success we seek doesn't last. And doesn't really make us happy. It just fills our time.

I want to love well with the little bit of time I have. I want to invest in relationships and care for others because in the end, that is so much better.

Come on Spring

The weather is slowly warming up. 45, 52, 56

The sun gets in our eyes as we eat dinner, hanging around. Inviting us outside once the dishes have been put away to soak in the last bit of shine before the moon takes over.

After school activities of drawing, monopoly and homework are being replaced. The homework is still there, a big unfortunate for some more than others, but the balls, swings and bikes are starting to steal the show.

The crayons, markers and papers of indoor play will slowly give way to chalky hands and a driveway overflowing with color.

Spring has supposedly been here for over a week, but it's just now starting to feel like truth.

Maybe winter is coming to an end. It's always a little hard to tell this time of year, making the real Spring all the more welcome.

Days like today, filled with sun and outdoor play, make it easy to be content. And yet, I think, they hint of more to come. Taken at face value they are a welcome change, but if we go a little deeper, that is where the real excitement of spring lies.

The freshness, the warmth, the awakening that comes with the changing season give tangible reminders of things to come, when the death of winter will give way to the Eternal. I think these first days of Spring give a glimpse, a sliver of what Heaven will feel like. When the Shadowlands will leave us forever and as C.S. Lewis writes, the dream will be over and the morning will come.

We may speak of the temporal and say "Come on Spring," but deep down, our souls know what we really mean.

Dreams of Silver and Gold

We were waiting. Waiting for the others to come out of the bathroom when she looked up at me and said,

"Mom, when I grow-up I want to wear a gold dress and I want to adopt a little girl from China and a little girl from Ethiopia and I want to buy them silver dresses."

There was more, about the tie she would buy for her husband and the food that she would cook, but it was the first part that I put on Facebook and that I have continued to think about since.

There was redemption in her words.

They say adoption mimics salvation. The sacrifice it takes to make a stranger a part of your family mimics the sacrifice God made to bring us into his.

The unloved finds love.

And if that was not enough, their dirt is washed away, and they find themselves dressed in silver and gold.

We find out the dirty,unwanted orphan is really the royal princess, the daughter of the King.

It's the best kind of story, one that never seems to get old.

Told through music and art, books and movies, and sometimes told in the daydreams of a little girl.

Talents to Share

She lay in a ball on the sofa, blanket wrapped tightly around her nine-year old body. I had called the school that morning to inform them she was home sick with a fever. The ibuprofen I gave her had been doing its job, giving us both the illusion that she was not so sick anymore.

She was holding out hope that she would be cleared to go to school the next morning. It would be the last day before Spring Break, the annual all-school talent show. She had tried out and made it into the program.

But when I saw her laying there on the sofa in the late-afternoon sun, we both knew the fever was back.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

She stood up, blanket draped over her shoulders like a royal fleece robe and in a trembling voice spoke the words we both wished were not true.

"I don't feel good." she said, voice full of emotion. "I'm not going to be able to go to school am I?" and then with tears in her eyes came the words, "Mom, I just wanted to share my talent."

I held her tight and tried to come up with some kind of consolation prize, the promise of movies on the sofa falling short.

She has since moved on and accepted her fate. She will probably be able to share her talent with her music class, it is something, even if its not quite the same.

Her desire to share her talent challenged me. It wasn't a boastful, proud desire. It was a child-like knowing that she had been given a talent and talents are meant to be shared. Not over-thought, not hidden, not held back because of fear or doubt or worry over what others might think.

The truth is simple, no matter how I like to complicate it: We have all been given talents to share.

Blessed to Bless

This phrase has apparently been stalking me over the last few weeks. I’ve been hearing it as others speak, and reading it where others have written. All the while those words, “blessed to bless” tumble around inside my head as I move about my every days.

It’s true you know. We have not been given much to hoard and keep for ourselves. Contrary to the “American dream” type of living, that surrounds us.

We have been blessed to bless. And miraculously through the handing out of the blessing, it somehow finds its way back into our pockets. Conversely, when we hoard the blessings they oftentimes slip away leaving us feeling cheated.

We have been blessed to bless.

So how do I teach my kids this lesson? In a me-centered materialistic society, how do I help them learn and live this in their every days. I won’t pretend to be an expert because I’m not. But I have a thought, one focus that might help.

Several years ago, after watching the movie Slumdog Millionaire, I kinda lost it for a day or two. The movie had a profound effect on me. It made me want to do more. In the aftermath, I wrote this:

I want to be intentional about teaching my kids about the world and the orphans and the kids who are hurting. Maybe if they grow up with that awareness they can do something to change it. Maybe that is one way I can do something. So here are the goals I have for my children: To give them an awareness of the needs of the world around them; to grow compassion for those needs, and a desire/will to act on those needs and make a difference.

Honestly, I kind of forgot I had even made that goal until I was reading back through my moleskin notebook and rediscovered it. But I think there is a kind of magic in writing goals like that down. Even if you don’t revisit the actual written goal, pen to paper somehow indents them a little firmer in your heart. Looking back, I can see evidence of that goal's indention in how we've lived our lives.

Not that we are doing it perfectly, or even consistently. We struggle with materialism and wanting a comfortable life every day. Often our choices reflect the "American Dream,"way more than a "Blessed to Bless" attitude.  But, it is something we are aware of and trying to teach our kids. We are trying to teach them a global perspective with the hope that they will live lives of compassion and make a difference in the lives of those who are hurting and vulnerable. We hope that they will live out the phrase, “blessed to bless” as they grow.

With all that in mind, I am planning a series of posts over the next few weeks on ways we have intentionally tried to encourage a global perspective in our kids. I know for a fact that many of you who actually read my ramblings have the same goal for your families and I hope that you will add your thoughts and ideas along the way so we can all learn from each other.

One last thought, I recently read the following post on the Lifesong Blog, written by a high school student in Illinois. She writes on why we have been blessed to bless. It is well worth the read.

We have been blessed to bless. May we all live this out, in practical ways, to the glory of our God!

The Cover and Title Page

Our minister on Sunday reminded us that we were created for another world. This one is just the "cover and the title page;" the preview to the movie.

I heard Chip Ingram ask a question on the radio today, "Are we spending our lives or investing them?"

It is a question I need to ask myself every day: Am I spending my life on this world, that lasts but a moment, or am I investing my life in the world to come? 


Lord, help my live my every days with an eternal perspective, remembering how short life is and what's coming after. Help me to live for the world to come.

Then Aslan turned to them and said: 

"You do not look so happy as I mean you to be." 

Lucy said, "We're so afraid of being sent away, Aslan. And you have sent us back into our own world so often." 

"No fear of that," said Aslan. "Have you not guessed?" 

Their hearts leaped and a wild hope rose within them. 

"There was a real railway accident," said Aslan softly. "Your father and mother and all of you are--as you used to call it in the Shadowlands--dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended:  this is the morning." 

And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were  so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. 

All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page:  now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read:  which goes on forever:  in which every chapter is better than the one before.

excerpt take from The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis

Stepping Out

Can I just say I HATE getting out of my comfort zone. HATE. IT.

Until I do.

Then I'm always glad I did.

Wish I could remember that every time I approached the step out. It would make my life a lot less tearful.

Kory tries to remind me. Heck, I try to remind me. And still, my emotions take over and tell me that if I dare leave my comfortable place, I may look the fool or get hurt, or even worse lose any semblance of control all together.

With my natural tendency toward the known, I am so thankful for a Heavenly Father (and a supportive husband) who constantly push me towards the unknown.

My life is a lot fuller because of it. And maybe, just maybe one of these days, I will kick those emotions that try to tie me down to the curb and embrace the unknown... at least in a somewhat controlled kind of way.

Maybe.

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone."

-Neale Donald Walsh

A Glimpse of the Forest

I was looking through an old moleskine notebook this week. I love my moleskine notebooks because they are thin, lightweight and I can carry one around in my purse. Or leave one on my nightstand, or on the coffee table. Wherever I find them, they make me feel like a writer. The writings that fill their pages are typically a hodge podge of thoughts I don't want to forget, or conference notes, or blog post ideas, or book quotes, or vacation murmurings, or names of people whose names I am trying to remember.

The hodge podge creates a treasure-seeking kind of experience when you look back. You never know what you might find.

Proverbs 16:9 says, "In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps." Three years ago I wrote of an experience that led to some soul-searching that led to a goal. Today, three years later, I see more clearly how the person I am becoming was being shaped by those experiences. I read my plans and reviewed my steps and feel the truth of that verse.

It is exciting to see the past intersect with the present. It is exciting to dream how those experiences may continue to mature and impact the future. Because most of the time, I don't see it. I think it's called the "can't see the forest through the tress" phenomenon. This week offered a chance to climb one of those trees and glimpse a little bit of the forest.

Which reinforces one more reason why I love my moleskine notebooks.

"We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!" 

1 Corinthians 13:12 The Message

She's Nine

Mya is 9 years old today.

NINE. 

Where did those years go? 

She is a beautiful, tender-hearted, amazing girl with a zeal for life that is contagious. 

She is a gift, plain and simple.

I was getting all nostalgic last night. Thinking back to nine years ago when she first joined us. Sometimes I find myself wanting to freeze time. Stop the days from roaring by. Keep my kids just as they are today.

Really, I'm glad that is not an option, but periodically I feel the pangs of time moving too fast. 

Emma Timmons (a character from Lark Rise to Candleford) had the same desire once, to freeze time. In response, her husband shared some wise words:

You could stop it right now, but then there would be no more moments to turn into memories. 

It's true, I know, and even though time flies by too fast on some days and too slow on others, I am thankful for its passage. I am thankful for nine years with my sweet girl and looking forward to many more moments yet to come.

Checkout lane philosophy 101

I was waiting to pay for my groceries the other day. There was one older man in front of me with a minimal number of items to buy, which is exactly why I picked the line I found myself standing in.

The cashier asked the obligatory, "How are you doing today?"

To which he replied, "Every day I wake up is a good one."

He probably answers that way to everyone. Maybe so often that he doesn't mean it anymore, the words just spill out. His pat answer. (Is it cynical of me to think this way?)

Regardless, he got me thinking.

"Every day I wake up is a good one."

Hmmm, what a way to live. I've heard it before: Every day is a gift. Enjoy the moment. Live in the present, etc., etc. etc.

I'm still thankful for the reminder.

Whether he actually meant it or not.

Motherhood refines

“It’s weird having those kids up there. Were our kids that blasted clumsy? And did they eat that much?”

“Sure,” Sairy said.

“I guess my brain pretty much forgot all that,” Tiller said. “Do you think we were good parents?”

Sairy turned to look at him. “Of course we were, once we made our mistakes and got over worrying so much. Sometimes I think we were just getting really good at it when all of a sudden those kids were grown up and gone. Maybe that’s why it seems easier to me now… I figure we know what to expect and we know how to love kids.”

Quote take from Ruby Holler by Sharon Creech

It was interesting reading your comments on why you love being a mom…  many of you wrote about the refining process motherhood has created in your life. My personal experience has been the same. Motherhood has a way of highlighting the selfishness and impatience and…

It most definitely makes me dependent on Him. It is one crazy-hard job!

I love the quote above from a little gem of a book titled Ruby Holler by Sharon Creech. It is a book I found in the youth section of our library. It is about two orphans who move for a summer to Ruby Holler with an empty nest, older couple.  The quote is a conversation between the couple Tiller and Sairy.

Sairy is so patient with the kids. She doesn’t let their clumsiness and mistakes addle her. She expects it. Tiller is not so patient, but he hides it.

I want to be more like that.

Motherhood has presented many, many opportunities to practice patience. Daily I have the choice to show grace or respond with frustration and irritation. I wish I made the right choice more often.

But hey, it’s a refining process.

It’s not going to happen in a day, or even year. Frankly, it’s a process that will not be finished in this lifetime.  BUT if I let God use this Motherhood thing to refine me, MAYBE, with each year that goes by I can become a little more patient and a little less selfish. I can learn from my mistakes and get over worrying so much. I can learn to expect mistakes and clumsiness from my kids and show more grace when they do.

And, MAYBE, when my kids grow up and are gone, I will look a little more like Jesus than when I began. I’ll know what to expect and I’ll know how to love kids.

PS There is still time to win a copy of Momumental! Just leave a comment on that post and you are in the drawing. I will pick a winner tomorrow.

To Plunge

It’s hot out.

Even in the shade.

I, however, am in a lucky position. A few hops and a jump and the heat would vanish in a spray of sparkling blue. Unlucky for me, the sparkling blue is deceiving. It looks refreshing, but one dip of the toe proves the water temperature to be a little on the freezing side.

Funny, the kids don’t seem to notice the stark temperature differences. They plunge in, willing to be uncomfortable for a minute in order to splash.

I try. I put my foot in followed by my leg. Do I dare let the water reach my waist?

Maybe next time.

A little splash is enough to drive the heat away for a few minutes at least. It allows me to experience a little relief from the heat without the uncomfortable cold.

I don’t like to be that kind of uncomfortable. I’d rather endure the hot than risk the cold. Even if the end result of the plunge turns uncomfortable cold into refreshing cool.

This reminds me of something I know to be true: 

Sometimes the greatest rewards in life require a risk that brings on the uncomfortable.  

Sometimes, by refusing the risk we restrict ourselves to a life of enduring.

And sometimes, we need to put aside our comfort, take the risk and plunge. 

Living in Saturday

Today is Good Friday. The day we remember the sacrifice. His death.

With the rising and setting of the sun comes Saturday. I was reminded in my reading this week of the grief His disciples must have felt on that first Saturday. Trying to process his death. Questioning WHAT in the WORLD just happened. Scared. Confused. Hurt to the very CORE. Unaware of the HOPE Sunday would bring.

We are living in Saturday.

I read posts like this or this and I hurt. I am exposed to gritty stories of HARD, painful life experiences. I look into the eyes of the orphaned; I am told their stories of loss and I hurt. I see my brokenness surface over and over and I see that brokenness affect the people I love.

I catch my kid's looking for me as they perform for the church during the Easter program and I remember a girl in Ukraine who looked for me. I think of the millions of kids all over the world who have no one to look for. No one to advocate for them, pray for them or even remember them. And I hurt.

We all experience the hurt. Some more than others. Some in huge, unbearable doses. It is always there. If you haven't felt it, you will. The hurt is inevitable. Some try to hide from it or find ways to avoid or ignore it, but eventually, it finds us all.

The hurt is an undeniable truth of living in Saturday.

But there is one big difference between us and His disciples that first Saturday.

We KNOW the HOPE that comes with Sunday.

We are LIVING in Saturday, but Sunday IS coming.

We HURT in the now; but we live, by HIS grace, for the day when the hurt will leave FOREVER.
And, because of Sunday, the hurt we experience is bearable, the JOY deeper, and the PEACE overwhelming. Life can overflow with purpose. The LOVE of Jesus, who lived in our hurt, can be shared, RELISHED and overflow to ALL who wish to receive it!

PRAISE God for the empty tomb and the HOPE of Sunday!

Then the men asked, "Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? 

He isn't here! He is risen from the dead!  

Luke 24:5b-6a 

The Discipline of Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving is not so much a feeling I feel when I’m feeling thankful...

Instead, it is an intentional act. Or better yet, an intentional thought process. It takes discipline.

The more I practice it, the more I am rewarded with that feeling I feel when I’m feeling thankful. It’s a good feeling. Like Grandpa says, it can make a person feel almost selfish it feels so good.

A thankful person is one who remembers where all good gifts come from. And even if the circumstances of life don’t feel good, a thankful person is one who trusts that God is in control anyway. Even when life is hard, there is always something to give thanks for. The person who finds that something and gives thanks for it, in all circumstances, lives a joy-filled life. I believe that is true.

I want to live that kind of life.

I want my kids to live that kind of life too.

Thus begins my quest to live a more thankful life.

I bought a little notebook the other day that sits on my bedside table. The goal is to record five things I’m thankful for every night before bed, so that I can end each day on a thankful note. I started this little practice two weeks ago. And while I’ve only actually written in it, ahem, three times, I have found my days are interrupted more often with thankful thoughts and the intention to add these little praises to my notebook.

I’m still hoping to get more consistent with the actual recording process. A notebook filled with reasons to be thankful has to be a motivating read when I’m finding it hard to find things to be thankful for, right?

Yep, I think so too.

Today I am giving thanks for fall colors, a working vehicle, the God who hears me, a Starbucks gift card, and Focus on the Family podcasts.

What are you thankful for today?

Dealing with Ordinary

Life can be mundane, if you let it.

Ordinary days filled with the same old, same old. Same routines, same chores, same battles.

Every so often a little taste of different comes along. A trip. An outing. A conversation with an old friend. Something a little out of the ordinary. Something as small as the first walk of spring after a long winter.

These tastes of different bring flavor to ordinary days, but sometimes its hard to seek out the different and let it overpower the ordinary, even for a moment.

The ordinary takes over. Covering life like a thick wool blanket. Making the future seem like nothing more then more of the same. A little bit of Ecclesiastics thinking creeps in, you know the "meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless" kind of thinking?

Have you ever been there?

Even with the adventure of China and bringing Suhn home, the fear of living nothing more than an ordinary life grips me.

And then I read about Brother Lawrence and some much needed perspective comes breezing in, removing the wool blanket.

Do you know Brother Lawrence? He was a monk whose job for 15 years was washing pots and pans. A simple, unglamourous job. The SAME job for 15 years.

And this is what he said,

"My day-t0-day life consists of giving God my simple loving attention."

He also said, "We should offer our work to Him before we begin, and thank Him afterwards for the privilege of having done them for His sake."

And that, I believe is the secret to an extraordinary, un-ordinary life. It is not so much in what we do with our day-to-day, but the attitude we do it with as we remember who we do it for.

Whether he calls us to do "great things" or places us in obscurity, we need to remember we are living in the presence of God and that every action we take, no matter how small, is for His sake.

This practice of living in His presence brings joy and purpose to the most mundane of lives and that is an extraordinary thing!


*Brother Lawrence quotes were taken from the book God, Discover His Character by Bill Bright.