What is Marriage?

Yesterday the Supreme Court made a monumental ruling by striking down a portion of the DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act), which defines marriage as a union between a man and a woman. The very fact that marriage needs to be defined indicates the fact we are confused.

Seriously? We need a  law to say what marriage is?

How in the world did we get to this point?

 Maybe it’s because those of us who understand the earthly union of a man and a woman is the foreshadowing of the relationship of Jesus and the Church (referred to as His “Bride”) have failed to demonstrate the wonder of it all.

On our wedding day, I certainly didn’t understand the roles Burt and I were about to play for the watching world.We weren’t aware that we were to “role play” Jesus and His bride in order that people could see the plan of God from the beginning of creation. What a responsibility! It saddens me to think people have made this a question for debate. I wish they could see the beauty of God’s plan.

The Court’s decision has made me more determined to show anyone watching how precious and unique God’s design for marriage is. Think about it. He arranged it so that ...
(1) we’d be attractive to each other;
(2) a bond called LOVE would keep us glued together long enough to work out our differences;
(3) we’d share an intimacy with another person that excludes all other relationships;
(4) we’d go through this life with the assurance someone cares enough about us to put our wishes ahead of their own;
(5) we’d get rewarded with adorable little people God allowed us to create;
(6) we’d experience a foretaste of Heaven on this earth!

Only God could have some up with a plan so appealing and so unique...but we have to let the world know!

 Because people are confused. People are trying to define, describe, and de-mystify the phenomenon called marriage.

It’s easy to see how the Enemy of the Church ( the “Bride”) is so determined to kill and desecrate the plan. If we could actually show the world what it’s all about, and how good it’s supposed to be, then everybody would want it!

And a beautiful marriage would ultimately point to a beautiful Savior...and people would want Him!

This is why marriage is so hard. We have so much to overcome...like our human nature, for starters. That’s why we can no more have a good marriage without His help than we can get to heaven without Him.

So we don’t need to rant against those who don’t understand.

We just have to show them!

Moms’ Questionnaire

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Renaissance Men

This morning I read a description I thought was appealing: ...young men without any physical defect, handsome, showing aptitude for every kind of learning, well-informed, quick to understand, and qualified to serve in the king’s palace.

Taken out of context, it would delight any mother’s heart (and gratify her ego) to have that said about her sons. There’s only one very large caveat. The king these guys were being chosen to serve was on the wrong side! Some of you might recognize that verse as taken from the book of Daniel, and it describes the four young men, the ones we know as Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who were Jewish captives in Babylon. I didn’t know for years these names we recognize were given to them after they were deported from Israel. (Daniel’s name was also changed to Belteshazzah.) The significance of that is the attempt to strip them of any association they might have with their former identity, to recreate a complete new persona. Their Hebrew names were a reminder of who and  Whose they were.

This is where the rubber meets the road (sorry for the hackneyed expression; just couldn’t come up with anything original at the moment): this is what challenges those of us who are trying to rear children pleasing to the Lord, but living in a Babylonian culture. The indulgent, irreligious culture we are in tries continuously to suck away the values we instill in our children. The mores of our society become a strong attractant to young people, full of potential.

Here’s where we moms have to dig our heels in. First, we have to determine where our allegiance will be: with what pleases the Lord or what gets the accolades of the world. Whose nod of approval are we really seeking?

Reading the description above sounds good to me. I think it could easily describe my sons. However, the choice is before me. Am I seeking the world’s admiration at the sacrifice of the One whose approval really matters?

Sure, I want it all. I want my boys to be sought after, admired, praised. But I have to know the same traits that make them beautiful in God’s sight and reflect His nature also attract the attention from the other side. There’s only one prayer I can pray for them. It’s the description given of those seeking God’s wisdom (Proverbs 3:4), Then you will find favor with both God and people, and you will gain a good reputation, and later of Jesus Christ Himself (Luke 2:52):  He increased in wisdom, statue, and in favor with God and man.  I pray they’ll be respected, successful, even admired...but at the same time, I pray I’ll be willing to give up all those things if it means compromising their identity with Jesus Christ. That’s not easy, and God knows I need courage to not only say it, but to mean it.

Can Anyone Relate?

Some of my readers know I’ve asked moms to respond to some simple questions concerning their issues regarding parenting.

I don’t plan to publish all the responses, but I am sharing this one from a young mom because I have a feeling it typifies the feelings many mothers experience. See if you agree!

A close friend of mine who is a retired elementary teacher said the thing that surprised her was the concern young women have about being good mothers. Her own experience had been with so many mothers who didn’t seem to care. Because I personally know so many young mothers who are devoted to their families, I prefer to believe they are the majority. I pray they are!

Anyway, here is the response I received yesterday:



1. My biggest challenges:
Where do I begin?? ; )  One is my own selfishness. And lack of patience. And laziness. Sometimes I want to be able to do what I want to do when I want to do it. Sometimes I don't want to be a servant - I want to serve myself. Maybe that's taking a nap, going to bed, getting out of the house, having a minute of peace and quiet time, exercising, getting the house straight or having time to get a project done without a dozen interruptions - cleaning out a closet, prepping for homeschool,it may even be a project with the kids or misc, etc. etc. etc. Sometimes (well, most times) I  just want to be able to get something done hassle free. Maybe its even just getting the family in and out of the car. Sometimes I get a drill sergeant, ungrateful attitude because I am being Martha instead of Mary.  I get overwhelmed with all the to-do's. And not just the to-do's, but the how-to-do's. How to discipline your children biblically, how to disciple them biblically (what books to read, what methods to use, what charts and tools to buy, etc.), how to feed their bodies in a healthy way (should we eat organically or locally or paleo or for our blood type??) Some say dairy is bad, but the dr. says to give them milk. Some say too much meat is bad, but the paleo people say eat bacon.  Does it have MSG, is it processed, is it gluten free?, ETC ETC ETC.  How to stimulate their minds and exercise their brain and have them learn in the best way, how to let them be creative. Am I doing enough crafts? Are we going on enough outings? Are they having a fun and happy childhood? Am I letting them watch too much TV? The list goes on and on. 
Then, there is the whole helpmeet role. Am I giving my husband the time and attention he needs? Am I helping him as he needs to be helped? It's hard to save energy for him when I have to care for the children - and the one growing inside too.
Constantly wondering if I am measuring up... If I am being the wife and mama God wants me to be... 
Are my kids going to like me when they grow up? Will they still want to spend time with me? Am I taking them for granted now?
My Marthaness sometimes causes me to speak harshly to them and I HATE THAT. When I do that, that is when I feel like an awful mama. It is my biggest cause of guilt as a mama. Do I like to be spoken to like that? No. Do I want them to speak to others like that? No. But why can't they just do what I ask when I ask without causing me to get frustrated and harsh? Then I think, "Well, of course if I wasn't ever lazy about spanking their little hinies and I was perfectly consistent in discipline and spanking and never raised my voice, then they would obey, so really it's my fault."

2. Biggest Concerns:
This crazy, vulgar, vile, evil world and raising kids in it. Also, my shortcomings as a person, even as a Christian, and a parent and how they will affect who my children turn out to be.

Does anyone relate?

Momspeak

In response to the request for “mommy comments,” I’d like to share one with you:
My servant attitude sure has been challenged recently. Especially with the addition of another little one with so many "needs". I have even caught myself rolling my eyes when a little one dares to utter the word, "Mama". I know alot of my attitudes are from lack of sleep and the constant "neediness" of being a mom. Trying to adjust/correct my 'tude,  but also trying not to beat myself up during this season of my life. It's all a balancing act.........but that has left me wondering, does it ever balance?

 Sometimes I wonder the same thing...and I’m a grandma! Since we’re into true confessions here, I’m sharing an email I sent several months ago to the girls I’ve mentored for the past four years. It was an honest moment.


Girls: I want to clarify something I said this morning: I felt really convicted when I got home about my comment regarding not enjoying my little ones! That was so LAME! I should never have said something that diminished the awesome, amazing, marvelous blessings that God entrusted me with, both our children and our grandchildren.

I realize now that what I should have said is how much I dislike MYSELF some of the days that I am with little ones...my lack of self-control, my impatience, my ingratitude to God for precious, healthy children whose lives I have a chance to help mold. I'm so ashamed of myself. Please forgive my for being too transparent. (I prefer for you to think I'm perfect. )



Chuck Swindoll said in his book entitled Parenting, “Guilt is a by-product of mothering.” With that thought in mind, I want to share a blog that summarizes the attitude we should all adopt as mothers. Here it is:


http://www.theblazingcenter.com/2012/10/dear-moms-jesus-wants-you-to-chill-out.html

Carry on, Young Moms! You're the best!!!

Hello You Moms!

This is a good time to let you all know that I’m finally doing what I’ve talked about for at least ten years: I’m writing a book! It scares me to say that because, oddly enough, I feel like a poser, not a writer. Somehow it seems a person isn’t a writer until they have name recognition and a platform.

Here’s where you come in! This is the beginning of  exposing my desire to connect with other mothers...particularly young moms who struggle with some of the same things I did as a young mom. I've had the privilege of mentoring numerous young women over the last 10-15 years, and I find many of the same concerns common to them. Years ago I read a quote in a women’s magazine that said, “A woman can stand anything, as long as at least one person knows what she’s going through!”

I think that’s true, and I think it applies especially to parenting. The truth is, most women feel isolated  in their motherhood endeavor. Every mother I know, who wants to be the best she can, struggles with feelings of guilt and inadequacy, regardless of her child’s age.

My thinking is, if we have an on-line dialog (a blogalog?) about our concerns as mothers, it might be helpful. I chose the blog rather than another social networking system so that anyone who wishes to can remain anonymous.

So, how about it? Wanna talk about your issues, your challenges, and—although I hate to say the word—your worries?

Your thoughts?

Just so you know, the idyllic photo you see has nothing whatsoever to do with the subject of this post. I just thought you’d enjoy seeing what I'm seeing from our back patio as I’m thinking about what I want to say. I might never move from this spot!

Looking at the back yard.

Do-overs

This morning I realized that there is something comforting about returning to the Familiar. I discovered this in an unexpected place: looking for a recipe in an old cookbook that belonged to my mother. As I searched the index for a very basic recipe, I found myself re-living memories that had been forgotten, and as I did, I felt my blood pressure dropping and the feeling of slipping into a comfortable spot coming over me. I found myself attracted to the recipes which began with the words “old-fashioned,” such as “Old- fashioned Boiled Custard” and “Old-fashioned Peach Cobbler.”

It was the same feeling that came to me when I visited the house where I grew up, referred to in Southern vernacular as the “old home place.” Going inside the house provided me with a therapy that I didn’t know I needed. It was like discovering that some things were right where I’d left them. Yes, the house did look somewhat different. The old kitchen had become the new laundry room, and the long enclosed porch is the now the kitchen/keeping room, complete with modern appliances and a comfortable sitting area. (Why didn’t my parents think of that?). But the atmosphere was the same peaceful one that had always been there. Somehow knowing that some cosmetic work and a facelift had not destroyed the personality of the house, just made it more appealing, gave me a sense of comfort as I left. I smiled to myself as I drove away because I could hear my mother’s words ringing in my memory, “Hold on tight when you come down the stairs.” I remembered how I had been annoyed growing up because it made me feel like a child. Today, I could face the fact: I was a child at that time…and a very happy and secure one.

It also made me realize how deeply engrained childhood memories are. What a wonderful thing when those memories are good; what a tragedy when they are not. The young couple in the house now has a new baby girl. I pray she has the same sense of love and safety that I had. I thought about my own children, who are now grown men. I know they have good memories. I also know there are probably some bad ones that I might never hear about. Hopefully those have been resolved if necessary, and the feeling they get as they drive back to their “home place” evokes good emotions. Everybody needs to experience a place of peace and security and unconditional love.

There are a lot of things that lend themselves to “do-overs.” Houses, yes; manuscripts, yes; sometimes even faces. But childhood doesn’t allow repeats. As Thornton Wilder so eloquently demonstrated through Emily, the main character in his wonderful play, Our Town, we can’t go back. Knowing that challenged me as a mother when our sons were growing up, and maybe motivated me to make good choices at times when I was on the verge of making bad ones.

I might have some “do-overs” at times, but it won’t be my family. Thankfully I don’t feel the need.

Last Day at the Beach

Tomorrow ends our month-long escape to the beach. We haven’t actually stayed here the entire month; I have been back at home twelve of the 28 days; Burt has been back twenty! However, we both have done exactly what we wanted to do. His trips home have involved checking on things at the farm (once a farmer, always a farmer), and our trips home together centered around the grandchildren. (I’m not complaining!)

 My time here alone has helped me refresh, refocus, and recalibrate. I’m going home with a sense of new direction. I’m resolved to finish my book for our daughters-in-law, and for any other young mothers who wish to read it. I’m also going to write a book for our sons...a bit more personal to them. It’s amazing how, in reading my journals over the years, I see how much I’ve forgotten. And yet...how much I remember. I came across something I wrote several years ago when our boys were growing up, and just because I enjoyed it, I’m printing it. So here goes:

       It’s a perfect morning for sleeping. The bedroom is cool and I’ve found the warm cozy spot as I snuggle under the covers. There is just enough weight at my left side to give me something to nestle against. The smell of coffee comes wafting by me and the sound of a bird’s cheep, cheep is somewhere in the nether land of my dreams. It’s a late Fall morning…I hear the sound of a pick-up truck cranking. I stretch.
      As I force my arm over my head I realize how cold the room actually is and I gradually start to recognize that I what I don’t hear is the usual heat pump noise. I also am becoming aware that I can’t roll over because the weight pressing next to me is a very wet- diapered three-year-old who is trying to get warm. Reality overtakes me as I see that the insistent cheeping is coming from the alarm that is set for 4:45 a.m. and the one responsible for that is driving off in his truck, heading to his deer stand. Furthermore, the reason for the chill is because the heat is not working.
       I’m almost coherent as I struggle against the weight of the covers and the sleeping bundle resting against me. I brace myself for the draft of cold air that is going to hit me as I rise to slap the alarm into silence. It is at that moment that I almost stumble and fall over the two sleeping children who have managed to sneak into our bedroom sometime in the night and set up camp on the floor beside our bed. The six-year-old and the four-year-old are almost indistinguishable from the mound of stuffed animals that are piled around their heads as they slumber in contentment. 
      The rest of the morning rolls over me like a tsunami. Bowls and glasses are everywhere, a pile of hunting gear is in the corner; binoculars, flashlights, caps, and gloves are covering the kitchen counter, and to my disbelief, it is lunchtime and everybody is hungry again! Thankfully, I have done something ahead of time, and I pull out from the refrigerator the pot of chili that was made the day before. By the time this meal is finished, there is not a single clean bowl left. There are saltine cracker crumbs covering the table, but the guys don’t notice because the next order of events is to get to the dove field for a bird shoot.
      I stand at the window and watch them, dressed in camouflage from head to toe, pile in the back of their dad’s pick-up truck, laughing and joking with each other. By this time, there are a few other dads and sons who have congregated in our front yard, and they leave together. The younger boys have elected to stay at home and play, content to have the basketball goal and the yard to themselves without the interference of the older ones. I return to the kitchen to address the disaster left in the wake of their invasion. 
     With the clean-up complete, I’m finally able to collapse in front of the fire and enjoy a few moments without interruption. As I sit, I can hear the sound of happy, healthy children along with the thump of the basketball and the grinding of riding toys’ sandy tires on the concrete driveway, and the pounding of feet as children chase each other around the outside of the house. 
      I know it won’t always be like this: a blend of mud-caked boots at the front door, footballs scattered on the lawn, strewn towels left from half-washed hands, shotgun shells scattered on the floor, shotgun pellets in the carpet, sometimes runny noses and wet beds, but always spontaneous hugs and aura of contentment.
     I’ll miss this one day...

MY FAVORITE PLACE

Today finds me at my second favorite place in the world (the first being the little piece of Paradise we call home): the BEACH. For years I’ve fantasized about spending a month at the beach during the winter. This year, when I found the perfect spot with great off-season rates, my sweet husband (who literally lives to make me happy...and yes, I do know how blessed I am) agreed to come. Many times I’ve had the urge to run away, to get free from exhausting circumstances, or just the challenges of the day’s demands, but this time it was different. This time I felt the unrelenting desire to come away to be alone with the Lord. If I were not married to a godly man who understands, it never could have happened.

I’m experiencing the magnificence of God’s presence as I sit on the small balcony of our condo, covered by the most beautiful blue sky. The strong winds of the past two days are gone, leaving only an occasional laconic wave in the fans of the palm trees.

I couldn’t sleep soundly last night, so I got out of bed at 4:30a.m., put on my headset and listened to worship music. I was so blessed. I felt like the voice of the Savior was whispering in my ear. This morning, He showed me what He wanted me to see.

On the road in front of the condo is a bike path, well used by all ages. I recognize a couple of joggers from earlier in the week. The cyclists are reveling in the beautiful weather and the soft breeze. All styles of bikes go by: narrow tire touring bkes, old-style cruisers, hybrids, even 3-wheelers.

Then I saw it: a tandem bike. In front was a little girl, probably about 10 years old.Wearing a bright pink wind breaker, blond hair waving beneath the bike helmet, she pedaled confidently. Behind her rode her father. His towering body loomed over hers, their strides in perfect sync. The little girl couldn’t see her dad behind her, but he was the force propelling the bike forward. In a flash, I saw what the Spirit was showing me. I was like the child on the bike, working my legs and enjoying my ride. Jesus was the Man behind me, providing the momentum and doing the work. For several hours I’ve comtemplated that picture. Riding my bike in tandem with Jesus.

I’m at the stage of life that causes me to look at the abilities of youth I’ve taken for granted: physical capabilities, years ahead to accomplish everything desired, assurance of bring equipped to handle all challenges. Now I was beginning to wonder if those things are slipping away from my grasp. There exist in their place some pains and discomfortants, some doubts about handing new challenges in life. The tandem bike is my sermon and my promise. Regardless of the situation, Jesus is promising me He’ll be the force behind me. I won’t see Him, but when the hill before me seems too steep to climb, I’ll make it, because His power will be the reason.