Clementine and the One Bear

Goldilocks was very tired by this time, so she went upstairs to the bedroom. 
She lay down in the first bed, but it was too hard.

Then she lay in the second bed, but it was too soft.

Then she lay down in the third bed and it was just right. 

Goldilocks fell asleep.

A golden-headed child, we have not.  We do, however, have a child with locks.  That child slept in her new, toddler bed for the first time, last night.

When I tucked her in, I warned: "MeMe, if you get out of bed, even one time, you'll have to sleep in your crib."

"Ok, Mommy," she said. 

She slept through the night and woke her sister and me up at 10 AM, singing from her little bed.  Sister and I went into her room, and Clementine and I had this exchange:

"MeMe!  You stayed in your bed all night!"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Do you like your little bed?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"MeMe!  Great job!  You're a big girl!"

"Thanks!"  (And she beamed.)

Oh, but that all transitions were so easy...

I'm happy I managed to capture the one bear, for you.
Too bad she's upside-down.
She's eyeless, anyway. (I had to remove her eyes, for safety.)
She was my bear; Aunt Joyce made her from a coat. :)

On Departing, and Parting Ways, Pt. 1

 

I'm a little nervous, writing this, because I have so very much to say that I'm not sure how to pick and choose what to include.  Also because parting ways is a sensitive topic, and I know I need to exercise care in writing about it.  But it's on the forefront of my mind because...

One of my small groups has but two remaining sessions of our current study, and I thought we might read Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts, next.  I follow Voskamp's blog but haven't yet made it past the second chapter of her book, and--thinking I might just read her book along with the others in my group--I decided to do the reponsible thing and read some reviews.

Let me tell you, there is some harsh criticism out there: not just of the book, but of Ann Voskamp's theology.  By other Christians. 

Now, Ann Voskamp doesn't need me to defend her book or her theology; are you kidding me?  So I'm not even going to try.  Again, I haven't finished reading her book.  I have read enough of her blog posts to believe she's as Christian as the most Christian person I know, personally.

Which begs the question: why do other Christians feel the need for such harsh criticism?  Do they truly believe Ann Voskamp is, with her words, doing more harm than good?  Drawing others, perhaps, toward hell (instead of heaven) with her poetic prose?  Because, if not, why don't they close their copies of her book quietly, drop them off at Good Will, and use their energy to win souls for Christ (instead of to warn others about Voskamp's book and theology)?

Here's the thing.  When people accept Christ as their Savior, Christ doesn't change them all at once.  If He did, their heads would pop off!  Growing in Christ is a long (lifelong!), slow process, and every Christian is at a different place on his or her journey.  People come to Christ for different reasons and remain with Christ for different reasons. 

Ann Voskamp isn't going to reach everyone.  I would ask the critics: if she doesn't reach you, can you not feel happy she's reaching someone else?  Perhaps her theology is different than yours, but I wonder how much really matters beyond: Christ shed His blood and died for my sins, and please learn more about that, and Him, by reading the Bible?

If someone else departs from our ideas of how things "should be done," or even our very theology, can we not part ways, well?  If the blood of Jesus covers, can't we quietly "hide" or "defriend" on facebook?  Can't we avoid the blog?  Close the book?  Can't we decide, simply, to stop answering the phone or e-mail?  Can't we slide out the door and find ourselves a new church?  And, if questioned, can't we say, simply and sweetly: it just wasn't quite right for me?

To borrow a phrase from Pastor David, I'm stepping on my own toes.  Really, I am.  One of my favorite things to say about someone who has what I would call a "funny idea" is: (s)he ain't got no sense.  I say it, often, and sometimes I say it about fellow believers.

But, truth be told, I ain't got no sense, either.

According to Isaiah 64:6: "We are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags."  That includes the righteousness of the Pope, y'all.  And of Mother Teresa, while she was alive.  And of my dearly departed Mister Rogers.  It includes my righteousness.  Filthy.

So much of it is a matter of prayer.  I don't believe we'll always be called to part ways.  Sometimes we'll be called to speak truth, in love.  Sometimes we'll be called to help, to fix, to make a difference.  Sometimes we'll be called to do a combination, thereof.

I think of my former church.  After I remarried, it wasn't quite right for me, anymore, but it took about eighteen months for me to move past my grief and leave.  And, even then, I didn't slide out: I went to my former pastor and bawled in his office.  I told him where I was going and why, and I asked if I could continue serving at his church. 

It makes me cry to think of his grace, in that moment.

In the past two years, I have attended three services at my former church: a child dedication, a marriage-vow renewal, and a funeral.  But I host two of that church's small groups here, in my house.  I feed its people.  I pray with its people. 

A couple weeks ago, I asked my new stylist if she attends church, and we talked for awhile.  When she explained where she is in her walk, I recommended my former church.

I am rooted at my current church.  Pastor David has my allegiance.  But Pastor Brian has given me the freedom to live out God's calling on my life at his church: even if that means I'm gone but, somehow, still there.

If the blood of Jesus covers, shouldn't we all be working together?  Doesn't The Church matter more than a church?

Two closing thoughts for someone whose ideas or theology is offensive to someone else: 1) Perhaps best not to say, ever: "If you don't like me the way I am, kiss my you-know-what."  Or: "If you don't like it, just leave."  Because perhaps the parting of ways can be avoided.  Or because the parting of ways, while imminent, is grieving the person to whom you're speaking, and your words (even if, ultimately, wise!) will cause further pain.  2) Consider this quote from Theodore Roosevelt (and, no, I don't know his theology, and in sharing this quote I am in no way proclaiming I like everything he ever thought, or wrote):

It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.

Let's all just do our Jesus thing where we are, in the way we think best.  Let's get out of each others' way and win souls for Christ!  We're not really wrestling against one another, anyway (Ephesians 6:12); we are being pitted against one another by evil...

Praises

(Random, happy updates for those of you who've been wondering. 

And especially for those of you who've been praying.)

• The exterminator returned for the third time last week.  Since then, we've seen three live fleas.  We didn't see any live fleas, yesterday.  I hesitate to proclaim the plague behind us because--without going into disgusting details regarding life cycle--it can be complicated, with fleas.  And even one flea can present serious problems for Clementine.
• Clementine is healing.  We were blessed to celebrate Memorial Day with dear friends, and the chlorine in their pool--in one hour--did more to help Clementine than oral antibiotics, antibiotic ointment, antibacterial spray, Aquaphor, calamine, the Itch Eraser, baking soda, and liquid and regular bandaids.  Combined!
• Cade's poison ivy is healing, nicely. 
• Cade's attitude has improved dramatically.  Jim and I have addressed slip-ups with consistency and praised with care, when praise has been due.  Tension has lifted between Cade and Jim.  Yay for peace in the home!
• Someone blessed us in giving us a beautiful! toddler bed over the weekend.  So Clementine's days of sleeping in the crib (and Charleigh's days of sleeping in my arms!) are, perhaps, numbered?
• We turned our addition into a play room over the long weekend.  I am still moving and sorting toys but am moving quickly toward reclaiming our main living space.
• We've tried out different kid- or family-friendly devotionals in the past but happened to find one at a thrift store, over the weekend, that we really like!  We're reading and sharing at dinnertime and recording our thoughts, with ink, in the book.
• Clementine continues praying at dinnertime, and her prayer has evolved from "God. Food. Amen," to "Thank you, God, for the food. Amen."  What a blessing to hear her little voice praying those words!

Thank you for every prayer you've prayed for us.

In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.

1 Thessalonians 5:18 

Three Quarters of a Year

Charleigh is nine months old, today.  She has six teeth and says mama and dada.  She's just starting to crawl and pull up: mostly because we hold her too much.  She's no rock star in the sleeping-through-the-night area, either.  Or in the eating-solid-foods area.  Again, spoiled.  But seriously?  She's the happiest baby I've ever known in my life, and everyone agrees.  She's just incredibly chilled out and pleasant.  I can always count on a smile from Charleigh.  She likes to ride my hip and kick her little legs.  Imagine a mule kicking its legs backward at the same time: that's how Charleigh likes to kick her legs while she rides my hip, but forward.  Oh, and when music plays?  She chair dances like it's a sport.  Love her!

Watching a baby develop from a newborn into a nine-month-old has a way of giving someone a different perspective on how much can happen in three quarters of a year.

Charleigh at Birth

Charleigh, Now

Check out Clementine's life in nine month increments:

Clementine, 5 Days Old

Clementine, 9 Months Old
(This is about the time I got pregnant w/ her sister.)

 

Clementine, 18 Months Old
(Just days before her sister was born.)



Clementine, Now (27 Months Old)

And this is happening all the time, all around us.  In nine months, a baby goes from egg+seed to ready-for-the-world.  In another nine months (s)he goes from infancy to mobility.  With a fair amount of teeth! 

Heavens.  I've just inspired myself to get up off the couch and make the next nine months really count!

Happy Three Quarters of a Year, Stinkerbell!

Prediction: May 21, 2011

Pastor David, this morning, talked about Harold Camping's end-of-the-world prediction for May 21, 2011 and what we can learn from its being incorrect.  I want to preface my summary of Pastor David's sermon by saying: across the board, I have so much respect for his careful words and sensitive heart, and he didn't disappoint, this morning; he started both by saying he had no interest in throwing Mr. Camping under the bus, and by reminding that some of Mr. Camping's followers used their entire life savings to warn others of the impending end of the world, and there's nothing funny about that.

Pastor David shared three points.  Firstly, he said we must be careful whom we follow.  He wondered if we would've taken the prediction more seriously had it come from Charles Stanley, John MacArthur, or Billy Graham.  (I leaned toward Cade and whispered: "Or Oprah?")  And Pastor David reminded: we should not follow man; we should follow God.  Pastor David encouraged us to talk with him if he ever says anything that seems to depart from God's word.  Again, I have so much respect!

Secondly, Pastor David challenged us to ask ourselves: are we ready?  He reminded us that Jesus is coming, even if a billboard doesn't warn as much.  The day will come as a thief in the night (I Thessalonians 5:2).

Thirdly, Pastor David challenged us to ask ourselves: what would we do differently, today, if we truly believed the world would end tomorrow?  He read the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 24:14-30) and talked about how we should use that with which we have been entrusted to serve the Lord with a sense of urgency.

Great sermon, and it caused me to think even more about Harold Camping's prediction and how I have been affected by it.

I have blogged, before, about Emily Wierenga's imperfect prose community and how much it means to me.  A few days ago, I clicked on a link, there, and read a post by "Old Ollie" that shook me in the best of ways and left me feeling (if I am to be perfectly honest) quite convicted.

Because, truth be told, I am no Rose.  I love Jesus and look forward to meeting Him, someday.  But--when May 21 ended without incident--I felt something akin to relief.  I am glad to be here, still.  I am.

I asked Jim: "If it were up to you, would you want Jesus to come right now?"

And with almost no hesitation, he answered something like: "I would.  Cade's been saved, the girls haven't yet reached the age of accountability, and we would all be together in heaven.  And I would get to see my dad again."

It bothers me, a little, that I don't feel that way.  I'm 100% sure of my salvation, but I wonder: if I choose here over heaven (at least for now) am I walking close enough to Jesus?  Am I choosing them (my family) over HIM?  It's a matter of prayer, but I'm almost afraid to pray; would something terrible have to happen to make me want to leave this place? 

So, for now, the only prayer I have is this:

Thank you, Lord, that I find what You've given me so incredible that I'm not sure I want to leave here, just yet.  Thank You for giving me my heart's desire in this creaky, leaky, fleasie log cabin.  Thank You for my husband.  I see You in him, Lord; I do.   And in the boy with drying-up poison ivy on his face, who crowds me in the pew and on the sofa.  I see You in the flea-bitten Wild Orange with patriotic sundress and floral rain boots, who tilts her face and says, "Happy Birthday, Mommy," because that's the nicest thing she can think to say.  And I see you in the Stinkerbell baby of neon hair and uneven smile.  Please keep us safe, Lord, and keep us together: here or there.  We want You in the midst no matter where.  Amen.

On Vacuum Cleaners

My former Comp II students will confirm: I light up when I tell about my mom and the Rainbow Vacuum Cleaner salesman. 

Now, Mom's loosened up a great deal, but she was anal-retentive about the house, back in the day.  Having been born a happy piggy,  I was the family member most vexed by her particularity, and--to this day, if you were to visit my (cleaner than usual) house--you would see: my rebellion has persisted near four decades. 

But back when I was a girl living with Mom, the Rainbow Vacuum Cleaner salesman showed up at the kitchen door one day.  How he found us, I'll never know; my parents live in the middle of nowhere and have a long, gravel driveway.  I mean, like, you can't even see their house from the road!  So Mom invited the saleman in for iced tea, undoubtedly, out of respect for his pluckiness.

The salesman, sitting at the dining-room table, nodded toward the rug in the living room.  "Now," he asked Mom, "would you say that rug is clean?"

"Well, yes," she said.  "Of course it's clean."

"Are you sure?" he asked. 

She frowned.  "I'm sure," she said.  "I just vacuumed it today."

"Would you mind if I vacuumed it?"  he asked.

"Go right ahead," she said, testily.  They both stood.  She crossed her arms.  He explained how the vacuum cleaner's water filtration system worked and proceeded to vacuum the rug.  The water turned gray almost immediately and--in no time flat--looked downright murky. 

All the color drained from Mom's face, and the salesman barely hit the "off" switch when she hollered, horrified: "I'll take it!" 

I can still see her expression and sit here, now, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

But, as usual, Mom gets the last laugh.  And the next-to-last laugh. 

Because, firstly, would you believe she is still using (and loving) that twenty-plus-year-old Rainbow Vacuum Cleaner?

Ok, and secondly?  Our flea killer suggested, gently, that my Maxima might not be doing the trick.  My beloved (who would never, in his brilliant frugality, spring for a Rainbow) ordered me a Shark Navigator.  It arrived today, and he could hardly wait to assemble it.  I vacuumed our living room yesterday (and many in-a-row days prior) with the Maxima, and lmtellya: I could scarce believe how much stuff came out of my carpet, tonight, with the new vacuum. 

I shudder to think. 

Where's my mom with her Rainbow while I'm trying to rid my house of fleas?  Why, she's states away, drinkin' iced tea in her remarkably clean house, y'all!

Love you, Mommy!

A Story of God's Provision

When Jim and I reconnected over Easter of 2007, he lived in North Carolina, and I lived in Virginia.  He had been working for his company for almost seven years and had transferred from his home town in Tennessee to South Carolina and subsequently to North Carolina, where he had been living for less than two years. He didn't care for North Carolina and had attempted 10-15 times to transfer yet again: preferably back to Tennessee, or to Georgia. The only opportunity he'd been afforded would have required him to train help-desk employees in Mumbia, India for 8-9 months. Many of Jim's co-workers were trying to transfer from North Carolina, as well, and most weren't having any luck.

Leaving Virginia wasn't, and isn't, really an option for me because I share custody of my son with my ex-husband, who also lives here.  So, when Jim and I decided that we wanted to spend our lives together, we started praying. Hard. It was clear that Jim would have to move to Virginia, but that meant his finding new employment. Almost unbelievably, he found an opening with his company about forty minutes down the road.  He applied, and he was offered the position at an increase in salary. Jim and I married on July 15, 2007: three months after reconnecting. He started his new position days later.

But, in August of last year, Jim was given two options: to lose his job, or to return to North Carolina (at his own expense) and keep his job. There were no openings, here, with his company; however, Jim could have taken a new position with his company had he been willing to transfer to one of four locations at some distance from where we live. The only way for Jim to keep our family [of four with Clementine's arrival] together was for him to leave his company. His last day was December 29th of last year. We learned that I was pregnant a week or so later.

The next seven months were frustrating, to say the least. We prayed earnestly and often and asked others to pray with us. We told ourselves, and one another, that God had not made a way for us to be together only to divide or leave us. We also told ourselves, and one another, that God had a plan for my son to be raised by his dad and me, and for Jim's and my children to be raised by Jim and me...here, in Virginia. And, to complicate matters, we knew that my remaining a stay-at-home mom was a priority. In this economy, all of it seemed like a complicated and tall order.

As the months passed, the balance in our bank account diminished bit by bit, the rejection letters arrived steadily, and the phone sat cradled, mostly silently, in its charger. We were snowed in for long periods at a time last winter, and the transmission in our minivan went out.

We both had moments of doubt.

Jim wondered if he should have relocated to North Carolina with his company and come home on weekends. Additionally, he wondered if he had made the right decision in turning down a poor offer (very early in his unemployment) from a small company nearby. 

I struggled, mostly, with feeling trapped here by my joint-custodial relationship with my ex-husband. That's a difficult thing to admit, but I'm not trying to be ugly in any way; the fact of the matter is that Jim, Cade, Clementine, and I are here (7-8 hours from Jim's and my parents in Tennessee) because my ex-husband has a job, here.  And during those long months that Jim did NOT have a job (while there were plenty of jobs available to him in other places), I asked myself: what about Clementine? Should Clementine have to move from our log cabin into my bitty house, or go into daycare, because we are trapped in this place, where Jim cannot find a job? Am I somehow favoring one of my children over the other?

I kept praying prayers that are so familiar to me at this point: Father, forgive me for being angry, bitter, and resentful, and help me to do better. Also: Father, help me to remember that You love my children even more than I do, and that you have perfect plans for them. And I prayed a new prayer: Father, forgive me for having moments of doubt when You have always taken care of me. Meanwhile, Jim and I continued to attend church regularly and to do God's work as we felt led.

This past Friday evening, just like that, everything changed. Jim was extended a solid offer to pursue a new career beginning August 16th. Our family will remain intact. Cade will continue to divide his time between my ex-husband and me. I will remain a stay-at-home mom. Almost unbelievably--thanks to Jim's severance package from his previous company and the unemployment he has received since December--we are no worse off than the day he lost his position seven months ago. Meanwhile, he has spent the past seven months bonding with Clementine and caring for me throughout this latest pregnancy.

I overheard Jim talking to our pastor, earlier, saying: "I think I'm supposed to learn something from this." Indeed, both of us are supposed to take things from our recent experience, namely: God had a plan all along. Negative thoughts and feelings didn't help. And all of the better, more positive things that we thought and said were true: God had not made a way for us to be together only to divide or leave us; God had a plan for my son to be raised by his dad and me, and for Jim's and my children to be raised by Jim and me...here, in Virginia, and God wanted me to remain a stay-at-home mom.

I know that some of my friends are in a place similar to the one from which Jim and I have just come. Seek God's face, and hold on a little while longer.

Charleigh Evangeline, born 08/30/10.
(Approx. 2 wks. after Jim started his new job.)