A Nun's Wisdom About Facebook

My apologies for not offering the exact name of the author of this prayer (scroll down to bottom). All I can find is a title: "Seventeenth-Century Nun's Prayer". However, the language sounds a bit too modern to be written by a Nun in the 1600's. I suspect false advertising.

However, Nun or no Nun. It's good stuff. As you are well aware, I've been doing quite a bit of writing on the subject of Facebook. You can read about that here, here, and here. They are lengthy posts.

There is no denying that FB, Twitter, blogging, etc. are now a mainstay in our culture. Communication has not necessarily "come to this", but the "this" has certainly taken up some prime real estate in our interactions with one another.

A friend shared this prayer with me a few days ago, and I thought it was both a fabulous read, and incredibly convicting and helpful as we navigate our daily interactions with one another in person, as well as in cyber-life.

I have come to yet another conclusion about social media: In the written world, there seems to be a lack of grace towards the poster and those that comment on posts. The environment yields itself well to quickly constructed sound-bytes which seem to provoke (encourage?) quick responses (reactions?) in return. However, the grace we may extend to one another in real, physical life, you know, the face to face contact that was so popular years ago, seems to get chucked when we choose to type our thoughts - whether as the original author, or the commentator. People misspeak. We all, at times, speak without thinking. So one could argue that we also mistype - letting our fingers do the talking without first examining what it is we are saying. I know I have. Have you?

Just look at the citation list above.

If that was the standard, I'd be guilty of all it. Except maybe the vulgarity. Unless you count "A$$" or the cleverly disguised, "@#(^".

Is anyone completely innocent of all charges?

And, just who is writing these "tickets"?

 "The author [of the list in the photo] should just," as my sister put it, "remove him/herself off of the offending social media site and let the rest of us enjoy ourselves."

Yes, rather than keeping a list of wrong-doings.

In that respect, FB and real-life seem eerily similar. Do they not?

So, the prayer. For those of us that post. And for those of us who comment on posts. For me. For you. For the time being, I'm choosing to watch my fingers a bit more closely. Slow to speak. Slow to type.

Lord, you know better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from the craving to straighten out everybody else's affairs. Make me thoughtful, but not moody. Helpful, but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but you know, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from endless recital of details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and the love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally - I may have been mistaken.

Keep my reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint - some of them are so hard to live with. But a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And give me, Lord, the grace to tell them so.

My Easter Message: Step Away From the Mike

Easter.

Thank you for this day, Lord.

Salvation, Hope, Light, and Freedom are offered to all through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So, what does the microphone photo have to do with Easter?

I have taken these last two months off from singing with our worship band at church. Second to writing, singing is my mode of communication with God, and yet, since the house going up for sale, I've not been able to muster up the ability to do so. Sundays have been hectic, what with having to leave the house clean and spotless for showings and Open Houses, plus getting the kids ready, as well as myself in order to get out the door early to rehearse. And for as much as I adore singing, God was gently tapping my shoulder to take a breather during this season where I've felt like I've been wearing a whalebone corset. Short of breath, dizzy, tight, and tense.

As the band began today I was absolutely elated to see that the newest female vocalist was stepping up to the mike to fill the gap. I smiled. And then, the woman next to me whispered, "Oh! That is your song."

No. It isn't.

I realize that she was merely being kind - communicating that she would miss us when we moved. I knew her inner monologue. Still, it was never my song, but rather a song that God gave me the grace to sing.

I never set out to take this hiatus and always thought I would just continue singing until we moved, but the break has proven to be good for me. It has forced me to commune with God differently. Even though the communion as of late has mainly consisted of a weakly squeaked prayer containing one word: Help.

It's a good prayer. Solid. Packed with sincerity and not too wordy.

I've not been able to get through worship without crying every week, and no doubt the Lord knew this when He prompted me to lay down the mike. I've needed this time. To sit with George. To minister to Harper. To have the freedom to fall apart in the pew rather than doing so during a song I'm trying to lead.

Today, I was especially moved by the Easter message. It confirmed for me what I've been experiencing over these last two months. For the first time ever, I really identified with Mary, who stricken with grief upon finding the tomb empty, couldn't be moved from this state by either John's belief that Jesus had risen, or the two angels inside the tomb who spoke directly to her heart's concern.

I too have not been able to rise out of the despair I have been feeling despite the incredible wishes and encouraging words from friends and family that God will do a great thing and sell my house. I have heard their words, just as Mary heard from John and the angels, but the words haven't sunk in deeply enough to soften, relax, or remove the weariness and grief I have been feeling.

For, like Mary, I have known all along that until Jesus speaks, I will be immobile.

I found this to be so affirming, for I mistook my emotions as a lack of faith. How surprised was I to realize that:

• I am actually banking solely on Jesus to close the deal. The encouraging words I have received from others have been most appreciated, revealing the support from the body of Christ, and yet, I'm waiting for God to speak. Only then will I be satisfied and refreshed.
  
• Laying down my mike has been necessary. God knew that I would become paralyzed throughout this period. He has taken these last few months to build up a "God and me alone" mentality. Lonely, at times, to be sure, but necessary for my spiritual development, as I frequently err on the side of depending more so on people than Him. I've never doubted saying "no" to singing during this time. I knew I had heard Him tell me to make that choice. This decision was confirmed today.
  

Also like Mary, however, is the realization that while during this moment He spoke directly to her alone, He didn't do so exclusively for her. This time of "God and me alone" will come to a close, and then, I will once again be handed the mike to share what I know to be true.

That Salvation, Hope, Light, and Freedom are offered to all through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Thank you for this day, Lord.

Easter.


Photo by ganatronic

A Few Weekend Adventures

Watership Down.

The Shire.

Lonely Mountain.

Yep. We visited all of them this weekend.

No, I didn't actually read Watership Down to the kids.

Yes, I realize that goes against my rule. It's a long read. Sadly, I owned a first American edition of the book year's ago, but sold it upon finding out that I was pregnant and that children cost money.

So, last night, choosing to rebel against the rule, I checked out the animated feature documenting those rabbits and their search for a new warren.

Tonight, we hit The Shire. 10 points if you can sing the theme song to the animated feature of The Hobbit. Unlike our trip to Watership Down, this visit to Middle Earth came after finishing our journey through the book. Yes, tonight, we finished reading The Hobbit.

As we watched the film, Harper expressed her frustration over sections being left out. It was the perfect time to ask her,

"Harper, so which was better? The book or the movie?"

"The book."

"Ah! You are my child after all. Prince Caspian. Which was better? Book or movie?"

"The book, Mom."

"Yes! Despereux? Well, we know the answer to this one."

"Book."

We are reading/listening to The Indian in the Cupboard. I can't remember the film all that well, other than there being a "sh*&" in the dialogue. But, after watching The Goonies, a "sh*&" is nothing.

Zane adored The Hobbit. And now, after reading and watching the story, I think I have a better understanding of where he picked up the phrase "ancient writing". But a weekend of even the finest literature can freak out a 4 year old. For Watership Down's bunnies drew some serious animated blood, and who wants to sleep alone after meeting Golem, Goblins, and Smog?

"Daddy, will you snuggle with me? Sometimes I have bad dreams. But, I'm ok because Jesus is in the room with me."

George began to pray for him.

"Daddy, could you also ask Jesus to help me say the word I can't say very well?"

"What word is that, Zane?"

"I can't say it. I need help saying it."

So, he prayed.

The biggest laugh of the night came when George did a dead on impersonation of the singer of theme song to The Hobbit.

10 points. And just what song is that? (No googling allowed!)

Alpha One Taxi: When You Absolutely, Positively, Have To Be There In 25 Minutes

Thanks to our mechanic!

Thanks for holding on to our car for 9 whopping weeks in order to overhaul the transmission and replace our engine. Thanks for then realizing that you hadn't ordered the correct engine for our car. And thanks for making us sweat while removing our engine to repair the head gaskets as we waited anxiously to find out if the engine was even damaged. Thanks for the news that the engine was fine and for keeping the car for yet another weekend so that you could "drive it Saturday to make sure all was well". Thanks.

Thanks for being the main reason that we came so close to missing Justin's first and only Illinois concert date on Corbin Bleu's tour due to OUR CAR BREAKING DOWN IN LOMBARD.

It was God who made sure that we didn't lose ALL THE TRANSMISSION FLUID while on busy 294 and whatever exit we took that was full of construction, toll booths, and traffic. Our true and non-sarcastic thanks and praise go only to the Lord, who must have pushed our car past all that heavy traffic to the entrance of a Popeye's Chicken before I smelled the problem, felt the problem, and then experienced fuming anger as I realized that the car wasn't moving another inch.

George pushed the car into a parking space. Hood up. Transmission fluid everywhere. Transmission fluid seeping out of the car.

My heart broke. Broke. I heard myself whimper, "Is it over?"

George replied with a confident, "No!"

I exited the car and immediately called Justin, who I couldn't reach, (duh), as he was prepping to go on stage in 45 minutes.

We tried to hold it together for the kids. We called people to pray. We tried to keep the goal in mind: getting to the concert. I spotted a Midas Muffler and told George to run there as I thought they would have a listing for Taxi's.

Alpha One Taxi and Livery Inc. (630-549-3009), whose advertisement states, "We are there when you need us", came our rescue as I shared with Andreas, the owner and our driver, why getting to the Dupage County Fair by 7:00 was of the utmost importance. He hauled like any good taxi driver, even going through store parking lots when the traffic was backed up due to a freight train that decided to push my boiling point. He charged my cell phone for me during the ride, which I promptly forgot in his van. He drove BACK to our parked car after the concert to give us the cell phone AND called a towing company which he knew took AAA and credit cards.

Only AAA had already scheduled a towing company which took credit cards. Or so we thought. Surprise! While AAA insured us the company took credit, this was not the case, and thus, the tow truck driver had to take George to the ATM before dropping off the car. Elvis of Esco's Towing was really great. Guatemalan and a Christian. So George and he had a great discussion about coffee, Jesus, and Justin on the ride home. Elvis now wants me to coach his kids. Oh, Elvis. How about some Mary Kay instead?

So, thanks to our mechanic for a great night!

Yes, I got to see Justin. He was fantastic. Sure, we had to lug our car seats into the venue, barely had a moment to take it all in, missed talking to Justin at the "meet and greet" afterwards because we were figuring out the next leg of our trip, (with Justin's Dad, Avi, leading the way in rounding up New Trier kids to get us wherever we needed to go) and, thus, I didn't even see Justin standing 10 feet away from me signing t-shirts and cd's, but we were there.

We were there with his family, all his friends, and new fan's. Thank God that all of Glencoe, and almost every kid I'd ever coached was is attendance, as we needed them at that moment, just as they've needed me over the years. Marcie, Justin's mom, loaded us up with a t-shirt and 4 CD's. Another Mom bought the kids glow necklaces. The McDonough's drove us back to the car and then took me and the kids home. I even met the Artistic Director of Writer's Theater in Glencoe who gave me his card and told me to call him for tickets to A Lion in Winter, which just happens to be one of George's favorite plays.

But the best part was when I opened Justin's CD to read the liner notes:

Joline, 13 years! I can't begin to express what you mean to me, and I wouldn't be who I am on stage or off without your years of direction.

And then, the floodgates opened. Every emotion I'd been holding in throughout the evening burst open. It was then that I realized that while I had physically attended the concert, a piece of me had missed it.

We spoke around midnight. I could hear excitement and fun in the background. The gist went something like this.

"Joline! Where were you! I didn't see you!"

"You didn't get my message, did you? You were brilliant!"

I told him what had happened.

"Are you ok? Did Harper and Zane like it? Oh no, my cell phone is dying. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Ok. Have fun!"

That's ok if he doesn't. He sounded like he was having an incredible time. It was just good to talk to him and insure him that I was indeed there. I wouldn't have missed it. I couldn't have missed it. I will relish in the fact that while my brain was tied up in the events of the evening, I was still in attendance, row H, watching 13 years of coaching sing and dance across a stage in front of adoring fans.

$22 cab fare and a well deserved $10 tip. $3.00 pretzel. $3.00 corndog. $4.00 for root beers. $6.00 for ice cream. $10.00 Corbin Blue "dogtag" necklace for Harper. $3.00 tip (and a Justin Stein CD) to Andreas for returning with my phone. $70 tow.

Seeing Justin in his ultimate element.

Priceless.

Peacetime

Not sure if all families would call dinnertime, "Peacetime", but tonight, in our house, it was.

We began by reading a variety of several mealtime prayers. We've had goal of adopting one for our family. One which would be displayed on the wall in the kitchen to be recited in unison at all meals. We found one tonight that we all loved and are working on memorizing it together.

"Lord Jesus Christ
You blessed us with five loaves and two fish
Bless this food we share
Place Your peace in our hearts
and your love in our lives. Amen."

After dinner we began reading My First Message and then used clay to artistically portray something that God first created. I made a sun. George, a whale. Harper, a fish. Zane. Zane. Zane. Well, it was a big ball of clay with two eyes and a pencil sticking out the bottom. First he said is was a "circle tree". We're not quite sure, but, well, that's not the point, right? The point was that we all enjoyed a peaceful dinnertime, devotion, and some hand's on creativity around the table.

When asked the question, "If you could create something, what would you make?" Harper answered "A mechanical dog. So it would always do what I say."

And when asked what we are most thankful for with regards to God's creation? Zane, of course, answered "Lions".

And Harper's answer?

"Life."

Peacetime accomplished.

A Swift Kick In the Snowpants

I reread my blog from last night, and while it is an honest portrayal of how I'm currently feeling, I realized that it communicated someone void of hope. I, on the waaaay other hand, am NOT void of hope. This is where things take a dramatic turn with regards to how I choose to respond and handle the difficulties of life. For I may wallow for a moment, but then due to my faith, I get up. Time and time again. I just get up. Sometimes that's all you can do. Stand up. At least I can do that. God can then move me forward. He did that today.

Read on.

As a believer in God, I do NOT for a moment believe that He has abandoned walking with us through this season. I haven't once questioned Him about why Harper is the way she is. (I'm not saying it isn't ok to question, I'm just saying that I haven't.) While my writings may sound as if I am depleted all all the hope within me, the truth is, I am not. The feelings of fatigue and frustration are most definitely present, but the TRUTH of God's presence is the anchor onto which I cling.

Today, I got a swift butt-kickin'.

She doesn't realized that she gave me a swift butt-kickin', but indeed, Kim Klamm did indeed do just that.

The foot she used was the Word of God. I can't say it hurt. But it did sting a bit and managed to propel me forward and knock a bit more sense into me.

Her text today: Psalm 139. I have to admit, there are certain scriptures that I tend to ignore because they seem so overused, over taught, and over dramatized. This is one of them. "Oh, I am so fearfully and wonderfully made!"

Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all about a zillion times.However, today, I realized that I am not treating Harper or speaking about her as if I believe she is a unique design crafted by God - she is the work of His hands. God sees all of us as unique designs in which there are no mistakes. And while I do feel a great pride in both of my children, I don't think I've been communicating how beautiful I see Harper to be. Her Artist crafted such a brilliant, creative, enthusiastic, engaging, curious, thoughtful, empathetic, person when He formed her, and I would be well to share that with her. She is not a work of art for which I can take credit. God knit both of my treasures and has entrusted me to love and nuture and protect these precious pieces with His leading and His guiding and His strength.

I marvel when I look at her.I want her to marvel in who God has made her to be. What is Harper's perspective of herself?

I wonder if I've been secretly hoping that Harper's design would change. And it is this thought that triggers the question: Whose design for Harper am I desiring?

Mine. The facade of a socially well adjusted child who is competely adaptable in all situations and enjoys and excells in academic, physical, and creative extra-curricular activities. I could go on an on, but quite frankly (butt kick), I'm describing (butt kick) a robot (butt kick).

I do love her the way she is. Forgive me for being "that" Mom, but I have a really cool kid. My inner drive is based on a desire that she will learn to love herself and build confidence (not vanity) about who she is, and who she will become. It is the outer drive, the application of this inner drive, that I need to flesh out.

So, know that while I struggle, my deepest desire is that she would truly know her Artist and that she is, indeed, a work of art. And while God may be needing to do some restorations right now, she is still a rare, unique, one of a kind design.

Priceless.

Psalm 90: 14-17

I prayed with a very wise woman today.

14 O satisfy us in the morning with Your kindness,
That we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.
15 Make us glad according to the days You have afflicted us,
And the years we have seen evil.
16 Let Your work appear to Your servants
And Your majesty to their children.
17 Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us;
And confirm for us the work of our hands;
Yes, confirm the work of our hands.

This Psalm was our guide. As we prayed through these words, specifically for Harper, I was struck with several thoughts:

Mornings are the most difficult for her. Thus, vs. 14 is a very appropriate and powerful scripture to pray for her - that she would be satified in the morning with God's unfailing love, and that she may not only feel joy, but that she would also communicate joy and gladness.

Affliction. Harper does indeed have an affliction. This affliction may disappear at some point. Or, it may not. And while all the words that flow from my mouth in an attempt to help her seem to bounce back without making an impact, it is GOD who can reach a depth within her which I can not. And it is therefore GOD who can make her glad in proportion to the affliction for which she experiences. In other words, simply put: I can't fix this. I can be a part of the healing process, but I can not ultimately fix this. I am not the GIVER of joy. I can make a choice as to whether I will bless or curse the situation, and I can make a choice as to how I will love, support, encourage, defend, build up, nuture, and raise Harper, but ultimately, GOD IS THE GIVER OF HER JOY!

Verse 15 says "Make us glad according to the days You have afflicted us". Do I believe that God has afflicted Harper? Well, He did create her. However, I refuse to look at affliction, whether physical or emotional, as something that is less than God's best - otherwise, we would be discounting the worth of many, many people! Harper's affliction, while difficult right now, as we don't have all the coping strategies in place, has also developed within her a very sensitive spirit towards others. She cares deeply for other people. If this is one of the ways in which her "affliction" manifests itself, then there is good within her affliction.

Verse 17 is more of a prayer for me and George - that God would confirm for us the work of our hands that we are doing her behalf. I pray that God would lead us on a straight path to find help for Harper.

These are just a few thoughts. I left my time of prayer feeling so very supported and so very thankful for scripture, a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

I left convicted about my response to situations that arise . . . do I bless or curse?

Gotta go chew on all of this.

Seek Ye First

The day has only continued on as smoothly as it began when I posted this morning. I'm delighted. And glad that I do not believe in jinxes, or I'd be up a creek right now.At bible study this morning I was relieved to learn that Kim Klamm a mother of 8 at our church and a fellow cropper will be leading a study on Practical Christian Living for Moms. In years past, I have RUN from bible studies geared towards mothers. Since Zane's birth, however, I have grown very fond of connecting with other mom's through the Word and have even found that this has been the ultimate place to find support and healing with regard to Harper's situation (which I've yet to blog about . . .). The group, currently titled MomsRus, should be called, Moms: Thank God. It's Not Just Me.

Some highlights from today . . .

I want to read What Happens When Women Pray. This book has been brought to my attention countless times and I can't ignore it any longer. Perhaps now is the time.

Mothers don't really have a "sanctuary". I do find that when I'm singing I find myself in a "sanctuary" of sorts, but indeed, in my home, I am the problem solver, the "go to" gal, the one who is constantly responding to a yell of "Mom? MOM???!!!". So, sanctuary doesn't really fit the description of my home. HOWEVER, God is indeed within me. So, part of our study will be in finding ways to locate and rest in the inner sanctuary that is God - who loves and breathes in me. Deep.

I so need to pray first, pray regularly, and pray with others.

Transformation does not bring about immediate comfort.

Sometimes, giving God my "firsts" can mean giving God my BEST. I can't always meet with God first thing in the morning and must wait until the best time of my day to do so - Zane's nap time. If I only think of giving God my "firsts" as first thing in the morning, I will get frustrated with myself every time.

Matthew 6:33 (The Message) Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provision. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.