Prayer Meeting of the Blogosphere (10)

Hello, and welcome to the tenth, old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere. I can hardly believe it's Friday, again...or October! But I love the evidence of autumn: every slightly chilly morning, every ripe pumpkin, every brilliantly-colored leaf. I find myself wanting to roll down my window and drive an unfamiliar road. I did just that, the other day, and came upon this beautiful, old church with autumn wreaths on its doors:

Jim's and my small group has been studying Romans for some time. This past week, we looked at Romans 11-12, and the end of Chapter 12 really stood out to me. More specifically, it ministered to me.

If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good (Romans 12:18-21, KJV).

I know I'm not alone in feeling at a loss, sometimes, regarding political and religious discussions. So often, I don't see issues as black and white. I can recognize good arguments on both sides. I don't believe that--just because someone doesn't agree with me--his or her profession of faith is insincere. (Hasn't every Christ follower been confused, misguided, or mistaken at one point or another?) I think very differently about certain things than I did ten or twenty years ago, and I'm not 100% sure when I was closer to the truth!

I'm comforted by the verses above because they remind me: God's got this. He's got this messy world with its complicated and opposing viewpoints. Vengeance is His. He calls me to live as peaceably as possible with others. My prayer for this week:

Father God, sometimes I feel exhausted by the bitter arguments of politics and religion. Help me to discern Your truth. Help me to know where to stand, and when, and how. Bless in the same respect those who read here. Draw us closer to Your heart; give us Your eyes. Grow us in patience toward one another, and help us to overcome evil with good. In Your Son's name I pray, amen.

Now it's your turn! Would you like to participate in an old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere? Here are some ideas:

• You can pray about my prayer request.
• You can share a prayer request by means of a comment.
• You can share a prayer request on your personal blog and direct me to your post by means of a comment.
• You can pray about a participant's prayer request.
• You can write a prayer about my, your, or someone else's prayer request (in comments hither or yon, on your blog, etc.). If your prayer is somewhere other than this place, please direct me as you can and  will.
• You can join in praying my or someone else's prayer.
• You can share an update regarding a prayer request you've made here, in the past. 

Thank you again for being here. It matters that you're here! I hope to see you next week, if not before.

What God Hath Joined

I think we've known since the moment we were pronounced: no going back. What [...] God hath joined together, let not [wo]man put asunder, and we know He joined. We can never doubt His joining; we prayed for God's blessing and watched His swinging wide the doors to our union. 

God went to a good bit of trouble just to get Jim and I in the same state. Even in the hardest, most challenging times, we haven't been able to forget the miracle of it: how--in no time flat--God made possible the nearly impossible. At points it would've been easier to doubt, but we've never been able to doubt: God joined.

As people who love God, then, and cannot doubt His joining; as people who love one another; as people who love our children...quitting has never been an option. The only option has been to live (ever after) happily, unhappily, or somewhere between.

One would expect love to make happiness easy to come by; it doesn't, necessarily. One would expect persistent unhappiness to be born of some huge infraction (addiction, adultery); it isn't, necessarily. So many ways to sin against one another, and "little sins" can accumulate and become fertile ground for resentment: a sin that leads to even more sin. Nothing snow balls like sin. I'm not telling you anything you don't know.

Jim and I spent six sessions with a counselor, but (long story short) our insurance company paid for the second half of the sessions only upon our appeal. We haven't yet found the will to switch to a counselor approved by our insurance company.

In the meantime, we've made halfhearted attempts to follow the reflective-listening process our counselor taught us, and interestingly, we've experienced a bit of a breakthrough. (Pity it took so long; I blame our lackadaisy.) It happened because Jim said: "Your hurt doesn't come across as hurt. It comes across as anger, and I go immediately on the defensive." It happened, too, because I was in the right spirit to receive those words. (I give the Lord credit for all of it.)

As I considered Jim's words, I knew he was right. Not only does my hurt come across as anger, but many of my negative feelings (disappointment, fear, frustration, etc.) come across as anger. The anger is real enough; I become angry that I'm hurt, disappointed, fearful, frustrated, etc. But all Jim can perceive is anger, and--because he doesn't think anger is warranted, and/or because he's unwilling to help me with a problem when I'm angry--the problems persist or even grow.

I've been shooting myself in the foot for so long.

In case you're wondering why in the world I'm writing/posting this, I mean only to encourage. I'm not trying to make my story yours. (Only you know where you are, and why, and how God is leading you.) I'm just sharing: inside of my own marriage, love hasn't made happiness easy to come by; yet, I don't think hard always means wrong or not worth saving. Also, even recently, I've thought: we will never get past ___. But then (like that old cliche about its being darkest right before dawn) we've gotten past, like, four ___s, and all at once.

I love him. For the first time, I'm taking seriously the spirit with which I approach him. It's helping.

Photo by Heather Causey

Why I Go

A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others.

―L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

She has eighteen grandchildren (I don't even know how many great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren), but there was a time when she answered the phone with a question, and when I said, "Hi, Grandma," she knew my voice from all the others.

And I feel sure: it wasn't that I was oh-so special but that, to her, each of us was. She had this way--when she was wholly herself--of making us feel known. She wrote us letter after letter; she was, hands down, everyone's best pen pal. She loved to talk to us on the phone, across the dining room table, on the porch swing, in the living room, everywhere. She and I fell asleep, many times, talking in the dark.

For nearly thirty years, her favorite story to tell of me was that--when she went to take my photo on my first day of kindergarten--I threw some kind of fit. Her favorite story to tell of Andrea involved Andrea's being a rotten teenager, but it didn't matter: doesn't.

(Andrea cried, a few weeks ago, when she pulled one of Grandma's owl cups from my cupboard. How clandestine the grief.)

It hurts to become unknown to someone who knew you from your beginning and loved you through your bad. For years, I felt bitterly disappointed after every visit, having prayed for Grandma to know me one more time. I let go of that hope after the Lord, in His mercy, allowed a dream. I still pray for good visits, also for my recovery from them; even when they're good, they're hard.

She doesn't know who I am, and no sooner do her visitors leave than she forgets she had them. But I watch her light up for my children and believe it matters that we're there. My younger children have never met so much of her, but I hope--after the last bit of her soul flies to the Lord--they'll remember her smile, her embrace.

And I guess I hope that--even as I stroke her arm or kiss her forehead--the most of her looks down, already, from that better and brighter place. I hope she knows me in real time: speaks my name just out of earshot. I hope she waits for me there even as we sit together, here.

Photo by Emmanuel Artis. Editing mine.

Prayer Meeting of the Blogosphere (9)

Welcome to the ninth, old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere: the one in which I discuss the epic battle.

Dinosaur Land feels benign, happy--even at the points of King Kong and the giant shark--until one suddenly walks up on the epic battle. In this corner of Dino Land, beasts bare their teeth, chomp, puncture, bleed, die.

The Tyrannosaurus Rex wins over and over, it would seem, but it acts merely according to its nature. It can't help having a big appetite, sharp teeth, violent tendencies. And--against the Triceratops, at least--it doesn't come away unscathed.

This would be the point at which I confess: sometimes I feel involved in an epic battle of my own, and I'm not...at least not against my own kind. I'm not a meat-eating dinosaur. I'm not a dinosaur, at all. I am (or should be) in control of my actions and words. Whenever I'm not, others suffer. I suffer. Thus, my prayer for today:

Heavenly Father, help me remember: according to Your Word, I don't wrestle against flesh and blood. Help me take a deep breath. Help me remember to pray before confronting or criticizing anyone. Help me know when to walk away or how to best approach someone with whom I disagree. Make me better and more for Your kingdom, and I pray the same for my brothers and sisters reading here. Help us shine Your light and not hinder Your work by getting caught up in unnecessary conflict. In Your Son's perfect and holy name I pray, amen.

Now it's your turn! Would you like to participate in an old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere? Here are some ideas:

• You can pray about my prayer request.
• You can share a prayer request by means of a comment.
• You can share a prayer request on your personal blog and direct me to your post by means of a comment.
• You can pray about a participant's prayer request.
• You can write a prayer about my, your, or someone else's prayer request (in comments hither or yon, on your blog, etc.). If your prayer is somewhere other than this place, please direct me as you can and  will.
• You can join in praying my or someone else's prayer.
• You can share an update regarding a prayer request you've made here, in the past. 

Thank you again for being here, and I hope to see you next week, if not before.

Adventure with Andrea and Roar

I've written about Andrea many times before, referring to her as my cousin-sister or my sister-cousin. She's technically my first cousin; her father and my mother are brother and sister. But we're more like sisters, really, than first cousins, and I should know because I have twenty-seven first cousins, and that's not counting by marriage.

Andrea and I don't adventure together often enough, which is a shame because--in all the best ways--she likes to shake things up; she's up for anything; and sometimes I think she has the power to stretch time. Not to mention: she's a good conversationalist, and she loves my kids.

Charleigh and Andrea. Photo by Emmanuel Artis (editing mine).

We decided to take the little kids north to see Grandma B., and I think we both thought Vanderhoop would accompany us, but Andrea called at the butt crack of dawn, traveling day, and asked if she could bring Emmanuel, instead. I didn't know Emmanuel but confirmed there was plenty of room for him in the van, so we set out soon enough.

Emmanuel

We stopped, first, at Reynolds Memorial Baptist Church in Sperryville, where we picnicked on a shaded, wooden table. I looked up mid-sandwich to see a man walking toward us and wondered if he'd give us the boot, but he (Carl) turned out to be one of the most hospitable people I've met, to date. It was beautiful, really.

From there: Dinosaur Land in White Post. I'd wanted to stop so many times, but the timing had always been off. This particular day was perfect for visiting dinosaur statues (some of which are fifty years old, and some of which have been created or repaired by Mark Cline)--not to mention a giant octopus, a giant shark, and King Kong--in the middle of the woods. We were talking about our favorite parts of the experience, later, and Andrea said: "My favorite part was seeing how much you loved it." And yes. I was reluctant to ever leave Dinosaur Land.

After Dinosaur Land, we visited Grandma (who renamed Emmanuel "Roar") in Williamsport, Maryland and traveled on to Uncle Ronnie's and Aunt Carolyn's house in Hagerstown. They had warm pizza and beds waiting for us. We visited with Aunt Ellie's family and, the next day, with Uncle Danny (Andrea's dad), our cousin Megan, and again, with Grandma. We delivered a box of Charleigh's outgrown clothes to a woman who works for Jim out of Hagerstown and shopped the Mennonite market, and I have more (and deeper) thoughts to share but will save them for my next post.

Another Lesson from behind the Camera

I find I'm often at a loss in terms of what to do for Jim's birthday, so after Anjelina and I discovered that our men's birthdays are one day apart, I suggested we photograph one another and give Jim and Eric updated photos of their women. Anjie made appointments with her daughter Kelly Ann, a make-up artist. I arranged for Brooke to cut my hair a couple days before the "shoot," and on the big day, I wore contact lenses.

What I hadn't anticipated, in all my planning, was how sad I would feel on the day of the shoot. It had been a hard, hard week. I considered cancelling but didn't want to disappoint Anjie, who'd planned to treat Charleigh (for her birthday) on top of the rest. In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't cancel for many reasons, but one above all.

We'd been made up and at the park for a while before I asked Anjie to put her camera down and go stand near a bridge beside a patch of tall and wild grass. She hemmed and hawed: not much or for long, and not because she's shy but because she's way more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it.

In truth, I wasn't feeling any of it. I felt even less comfortable in front of the camera than usual; I hadn't made time to color my hair, and I knew my eyeballs were sad. And I felt insecure, suddenly, about photographing the photographer. I mean, this is hands-down one of the most talented people I know, and I was off. I knew I was off, and here I was trying something for which I may have felt ill-equipped even if I'd been on.

Then Anjie leaned into the bridge (folding her beautiful brown arms atop the rail) and looked directly into my lens. I found myself staring straight into the soul of this person I love, and the strangest thing happened: I started to cry.

So there I was. Snapping away, tears rolling.

It was such an unexpected thing, and I've been turning it over in my mind ever since. I still don't really know how to explain it. I was thinking how beautiful she is and how much I love her. I always think those things of her, but this was different. When she turned her eyes toward my lens, the feelings came up in a nearly physical wave. A jolt, a shock, of intimacy.

I took many photos that day, but the one above--while not "best in show"--is by far my favorite. I guess I'll never look at it without remembering the moment I took it.

Leave it to Anjelina. She has the most unconventional teaching methods I've ever experienced, but hey.

ABCs and Algebra

As a kid, I loved September and all things back-to-school, but now? not so much. I miss the long, lazy days with Cade in the mix; he's such a great helper and, in general, great companion. Clementine's back in dance, and Charleigh's in gymnastics, this year: activities that cost money and necessitate the (slight) slowing of my roll. And small group's picked back up, which carries with it some responsibilities.

Charleigh's First Gymnastics Class

We're on a schedule, and even moreso because I'm trying to be serious about teaching the girls preschool. Clementine needs to start kindergarten next year, and daily I ask myself: homeschool or public school? Obviously, Cade's in public school and has been from the outset. I haven't had any major complaints and won't try to change his path, just...I very often wish I could pull him out for one adventure or the other, and I daydream about endless field trips with my school-aged, little kids.

I believe homeschooling to be a calling, so I don't much worry about other people's voices. I'm praying and listening for God's voice, and I'm testing myself because planning, scheduling, and follow-through aren't necessarily areas of strength for me. I'm blessed in that--should I end up homeschooling the little kids--I have friends ahead of me on the route, and they'll undoubtedly prove to be excellent resources.

For us, homeschool preschool involves ideally three mornings of work in the house, one morning for Charleigh's gymnastics (Clementine takes dance one evening), and one field trip. I've been starting a day of work by reading two devotions. I picked up the first book at a thrift store for $.75, and--although the girls really like it--I don't like it nearly as well as Keys for Kids, which is also story-based. The other book is a devotional Bible, so the devotions are scripture-based.

After reading our scripture devotion, we spend some time with one or more of these books (1, 2, 3): mostly in search of further visual representation of the Word. I really like the maps in Biblica because I feel like geography (along with chronology!) has always been a major area of weakness for me.

We're working with one letter a week in the order recommended by School Sparks, and--with the help of this resource--we're memorizing one Bible verse for each letter of the alphabet. We're also making Crafty ABCs and practicing writing our letters in various workbooks and dry-erase books.

From there, it gets more loosey-goosey. We're working with numbers, too, and right now, I'm putting a lot of emphasis on the girls' learning our home address. Last week, we spent a good bit of time working with pennies and nickles and playing "store": learning how to trade pennies for a nickle and vice versa. We're blessed to have our own library of children's books, also many puzzles and games. And, of course, we tear up the road; it's part of who I am as a person, so it's part of who I am as a parent.

Then the lanky thirteen-year-old slips through the door with his book bag, and last week, he needed help with algebra. I felt a little angsty about it--Will I remember?--but made out just fine, so I guess Mrs. Todd, Mrs. Murphy, and Mr. Harmatta did alright by me, back in the day.

It can feel like a stretch, ABCs to algebra in one day, but I'll enjoy over two decades of trick-or-treating with my kids, so the nine-year-age gap between Child #1 and Child #2 has its perks, after all.