No Broken Promises

When I first had an inkling that my youngest son, Malachi, would be severely disabled, I ran.  I ran as far away as I could from accepting the awesome responsibility of parenting a child that would be “different.”   I TOLD God – yes, you heard me right; I told HIM that I couldn’t do it.  Can you imagine, me telling HIM, no?  Telling God ‘no’ is the definition of temporary insanity!  I was in utter shock that my child was not just a little disabled, but severely disabled and I had no clue as to how to care for him.  So, I said, nope, not gonna do it!  And rather quickly, things began to unravel for Malachi – his left lung, collapsed, he was struggling to breath and the doctors said we would need to intubate him or he was going to die.  Very quickly, I changed my whole attitude about parenting my special child.  I begged God for his life.  I promised God that if He would just allow Malachi to live, I would step up and give Malachi my very best.  I promised out of desperation.  I promised with a mother’s love.  I promised from a place of pure pain.  I promised.....

Well, God spared Malachi’s life; He determined the plans for Malachi’s future and so, for the past thirteen years, I have solemnly honored my promise to God.  I have given Malachi the very best of all of me.  I have set a high standard of care for Malachi and I insist that family and caregivers adhere to that standard.  Malachi’s brain and senses are intact, so we allow him to explore the world around him; we take him to museums, movies, the zoo, plays, etc.  It’s important to me that Malachi have a good quality of life and that he is treated like the  gift from God that he is; I make sure that he knows he is worthy of love, dignity, respect and all things good that life has to offer. I make sure he is treated as such.  I promised the best, my best to God, for Malachi.   

Over the years, what I’ve come to learn is that promises come at a high price.  My promise to God and Malachi has at times, created additional stress, extreme fatigue and overwhelm in my life and tension in my marriage.  It’s been a major challenge trying to find the balance in meeting all of Malachi’s special needs versus meeting the needs of the other members of my family and taking care of myself.  And while my husband does assist and support me in all that I do for Malachi, the bulk of the responsibilities, care and decisions for Malachi’s health and well-being, rest on my shoulders.  I have fought with doctors, nurses, school administrators, medical vendors and insurance representatives to ensure that Malachi has what he needs; I am his voice, I am his advocate.   My family made a conscious decision and chose life for Malachi when we agreed to ventilate him as opposed to allow him to expire.  I will never, ever regret that decision, nor my promise to give Malachi my best.  But there are moments when I weep from the sheer weight of my promise; moments when it seems that my promise is bigger than me.  And in those moments, I have received a comforting reminder from the Holy Spirit that I am not the only one who made a promise.  God made a few promises too!  

He promised, “But my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” Phil. 4:19  My strength and my help will be restored.  I just have to wait on God.

He promised, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinth. 12:9  I am reminded that God is good and loving and He truly cares for me!  In my weakest moments, He has revealed His omnipotent power.

He promised, “Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.”    So we say with confidence, “the Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid.  What can mere mortals do to me?”   Hebrews 13:5 -6   I do not walk alone on this journey; I feel His presence with me.  The Lord will help me – He always does!

He promised,  “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy burdened and I will give you rest.”  Matthew 28:11  I can lay my burdens at the feet of God and claim my rest; He will replenish my spirit and rejuvenate my body and mind.

I am so grateful for His promises for I know that He will always make good on them.  The burden of my promise is the blessing of God’s deliverance.  God specializes in keeping His promises.

 

Question of the Day:  What promises burden you?  How has God blessed your promise?

 

For My Father

Greetings readers! It's Gratitude Friday!  Today, I'd like to share with you a piece that my oldest son, Joshua wrote for my Gratitude Journal.  It's a piece about his very special relationship with his Dad.  I hope you enjoy it and as always, be divinely inspired!    Dena :)


How great is the love the Father has lavashed on us, that we should be called children of God!  And that is what we are!  1 John 3:1

 My father is a rabid Philadelphia Eagles fan. He was born and raised in Philadelphia, PA, so naturally he loved the NFL team that sports Kelly green (midnight green later) as a child. When I was born, it was almost destined that I would become an Eagles fan, as I am his oldest son. Whenever we do well, it’s, “Josh, I think this is our year.” Whenever we do poorly, it’s, “Josh, I think they need to fire Andy Reid” (the head coach). I remember when I was little, I asked my father why we cheered for the Eagles. He muted the game that was on TV, looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Son, you have two options. You can sit outside and root for whatever team you want or you can stay in here with me and cheer for the Eagles.” This was in the middle of a Chicago winter, mind you. Needless to say, it was an easy choice. In 2005, my parents gave me the best ongoing birthday present I’ve ever received. They presented (no pun intended) with tickets and airfare to Philadelphia for an Eagles game against Drew Brees, Ladainian Tomlinson and the San Diego Chargers. Every year since then, we travel back to Philly for a game around my birthday. Just my father and I, hanging out for a weekend together. It is the absolute coolest thing to me.

My father is a very important man in my life. He taught me everything I know. Okay well maybe 45%. But still, that’s a lot of knowledge from 1 person. He’s the person I look up to, the person I aspire to be like. I understand how much of an impact he’s made on my life because so many of my friends don’t have their father around them consistently.

I am incredibly grateful for a loving, caring, compassionate father. Today I thank God for my father!    

Thanks & Giving

It’s Thanksgiving time!  Time for families to gather around the dinner table and give thanks for the first fruits of harvest.   I love to hear stories of elaborate meal planning and creative rituals families have crafted to honor this national tradition.   I’m also grateful for all of the efforts and loving sacrifices made to feed the hungry.  I believe that this time-honored American tradition of thanks and giving brings out the best that humanity has to offer.  The season of Thanksgiving is a time for us to focus our hearts and minds on being grateful for all of His wonderful blessings –like family, food and shelter, and to bless others with sacrificial giving.  And although this time of year is deemed for Thanksgiving, God’s command to us is to practice thanks and giving all throughout the year.

“Give and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.  For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”  Luke 6:38

“Enter into His gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise.  Be thankful to Him and bless His name.  Psalm 100:4

To that end, I recently witnessed the most awesome example of giving.  Last Friday evening, I invited two moms of children with special needs over to my home for dinner and a play date with Malachi and what a joyful, blessed time we had!  Emma, a beautiful little girl with a big heart and a vibrant spirit, took center stage as soon as she crossed the threshold of my front door.

“Dog! Dog!” Emma shouted. 

Emma beamed with delight as Roscoe greeted her with friendly wags and sniffs.  She repeatedly stroked his curly locks and instantly they became an inseparable pair for the remainder of the evening.  Emma’s introduction to Malachi was equally energetic.

“Hi!  Hi! Emma boomed as she gently stroked his arm.

 Malachi, who had been watching a movie in his bedroom, looked Emma up and down for a considerable amount of time before he said, “Hi!” back on his Dynavox. 

“My room!”  Malachi informed Emma on his Dynavox. 

“See ya, see ya later” Malachi said. 

He was eager to return to watching his movie.  Emma was not at all offended; she had way too much exploring of this new environment on her mind. 

 Shortly thereafter, Earl, a shy little boy with big brown eyes and a wide grin, joined the party.  Like Malachi, Earl was immobile, so his mom carried him to and fro.  Emma’s mom offered to carry Earl while Earl’s mom got herself situated.  Earl easily accepted the transition; he wrapped his arms lovingly around her neck and nestled his head gingerly on her shoulder for a cuddle-hug.  Throughout the evening, the children took their time getting to know one another.  Emma and Malachi “talked” to one another on their Dynvox.  Malachi and Earl communicated through eye gazing.  And Emma and Earl created a communication between themselves that was a mix of Emma’s unrecognizable babble and Earl’s huge smiles.  For all of the challenges these children carried, unconditional love was not one of them; they gave all of themselves to one another.  It’s as if their differences were invisible to one another.  They found a way to communicate acceptance and love.

 After dinner, the children sat in the front room watching, The Lion King on the big flat screen TV.  Malachi was stretched out on the sofa and Emma and Earl were sitting on the floor.  Emma was “chatting” Earl up and he was loving it! Periodically, his mouth broke out into a big, beautiful smile and his eyes danced with delight.  Without any hesitation, Emma reached over to Earl and wiped his mouth with his bib.  And a moment later, Emma reached back to pat Malachi on his leg.  He glanced at her and blinked yes – “Yes, we are showing the world the value of thanks and giving.”

 

“It is not our differences that divide us.  It is our inability to recognize, accept and celebrate those differences.”  Audrey Lord

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING 2012!

 

 

 

 

Time In A Bottle

Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.  Cleanse your hands, you sinners; and purify your hearts, you double-minded.  James 4:8

 There are three words that my husband, Maurice, can say to me that will melt my heart.  Three little words that make me stand at attention.  Three words that propel me to action – and no, it’s not I love you.  When he says, I love you, I take that as a declaration of our commitment; an affirmation of what we share and what we feel for one another.   But when my husband says, “I miss you,” well, that says something completely different to my spirit.......

Just the other day, I was in my usual frantic mode of hurry and scurry; I was getting dressed for work when the phone rang – it was Maurice. 

“Hey!  How you doin’?”  He asked.

“I’m okay, just getting ready for work...  Got a meeting at 10:30.  I hope the traffic’s not bad...what’s up with you?” I asked, eager to get off the phone and out of the house.

I had the phone cradled against my ear and shoulder as I sat perched on the edge of my bed, gingerly pulling on my stockings.

“Nothing much.  Just driving in to work and I wanted to call you and tell you (pause) that I miss you- and I miss us.”  He said.

I stopped easing the stocking up my leg, removed the phone from the crook of my shoulder and neck and sat up straight.

“Awwww!  Really?”  I crooned, my voice cracking.  I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath and smiled as I exhaled.  He had me at, “I miss you.”

Like most married couples raising a family, we are stressed and overwhelmed with the multitude of roles, responsibilities, tasks and commitments that we assume and that consume us on a daily basis.   For all that we do for our family and for others, we are increasingly finding it difficult to spend time being with one another.  During those times, Maurice and I jokingly refer to one another as “ship” – a reference to ships passing in the night...

When my husband says, I miss you, my spirit hears a yearning to engage in what matters most - matters of the heart.  I am speaking about the issues that rest deep in the heart, otherwise known as, the basement issues of my heart.  For me, I miss you means I’ve neglected spending time with you, and I want to be in your presence. I miss you means I want to share with you my hurts, my securities, my fears, my fantasies, my hopes and my dreams.   I miss you means I need to feel your full embrace.  And while I know that I miss you is a call to action, a plea to spend time together, I’m just happy that our relationship has evolved to that level of love, trust and intimacy; I am happy for the spirit-to-spirit connection that we’ve cultivated in the midst of this crazy, chaotic life we are living.   I never take what we have for granted; I don’t rest on that foundation because we’ve worked hard to get to this place in our marriage.   I realize the value of our time together and the more I submit to it, the quality of our relationship becomes richer.

The landscape for my relationship with God is very similar to the missing you scenario I’ve described with my husband.  That is, there have been moments in my relationship with God when I have felt we were passing each other like ships in the night; times when I have missed the opportunity to bask in His presence and He has missed the pleasure of my company.   I have been caught up in the hustle and bustle of life and have not submitted to His call.  During those times, I find myself doing the same thing with God that I do with my husband – having a quick, on-the-run check-in.  Skimming through devotion.   Half-hearted praise.  Rehearsed prayers...  Having a quick on-the-run check-in is like feeding a cracker to a starving man – it doesn’t satisfy; you crave for something that will fill you up.  A starving man craves food.  A starving heart craves affection.  A starving spirit craves time with our God. 

Like missing my husband, I miss my quality time with God.  My spirit yearns to connect with Him and share what is deep in my heart.  I yearn to be in His presence and feel His comforting embrace.  I’m happy to know Him and to have His love, but I miss Him- our intimate time together means so much to me...

Early this morning, I came running up the basement stairs with laundry in my arms and as I flung open the basement door, I was taken aback by the bright and vibrant burst of sunlight that overwhelmed the room.  My first thought was, “Wow! Look at God!”  And He said, “Now that I have your attention, I miss you!”

He had me at, “I miss you.”

QUESTION OF THE DAY:  What are you missing in your relationship with your significant “other?”

But GOD!

Greetings Readers!  I have a special treat for you - my husband, Maurice, will be my guest writer for today!  Two months ago I embarked upon a journey of declaring daily gratitude for 30 days.  I also involved my family in this experience.  I hope that you are inspired by what Maurice had to share and that these writings cause you to reflect upon what you have to be most grateful for in your own personal life. As always, be divinely inspired!   ~  Dena :)

One day last summer Josh & I sat in the living room watching a ballgame together, while Dena and the evening nurse were in the kitchen.  Malachi was resting in his room after a long day.  The monitor which measured his heart rate and oxygen levels was replaced a day or two earlier, and as with most technology, the upgraded model took some adjusting before we could set the volume to a reasonable setting.  Over the prior two days, Dena and other nurses were constantly modifying the various parameters, so when I heard the alarm I figured either Dena or the nurse was attending to Mal.  But after a few minutes, my spirit was troubled and I finally got up to check on him. 

As I approached his room I was shocked to see Dena in the kitchen chatting on the phone and cooking, while the nurse was at the sink cleaning his assorted tubes, connectors, and feeding devices.  I shouted “Did anyone hear the alarm???”  I turned on his light and his face was pale gray, and his lips were blue.  I immediately grabbed the bag to manually ventilate my child.  As I squeezed and squeezed, my heart raced, and my worst fears were upon me.  This is NOT the way we were supposed to lose our child!  Malachi was unconscious and totally unresponsive.  His heart rate (HR) was in the 50’s and his “sats” were in the 40’s!  “Call 911!” I demanded, while tears welled up in my eyes.  My heart was sinking, as it appeared that we were unable to revive Mal.  In a sudden moment of desperate resignation, I cried, “JESUS”, and simultaneously Malachi opened his eyes and looked around at us as if to say, “Why all the commotion”?

After he regained normal vitals, (HR~120, O2 saturation levels~ 98-100%) I gathered Dena, Josh & the nurse for a brief word of prayer to thank God for His Mercy and Grace.  I then encouraged them to acknowledge the moment and witness what just happened.  It was a point of clarity and re-assurance for me, for I was convinced at that moment that NOTHING was going to happen to Mal unless it was of God’s will.  

Through the years we’ve had many scares and worries.  We’ve been worn down and worn out by the physical, mental and spiritual demands of caring for a totally dependent child.  We often neglected ourselves and each other due to fatigue, stress and overwhelm. 

But God!  Through it all, He has been there.  He promised to never leave us or forsake us, and I can honestly say we have NEVER felt alone in this journey.  We are fortunate to live in the midst of God’s miracles each and every day.

Today, I am grateful for His omnipresence; thank you, Lord for your omnipresence.  We feel your spirit in our hopes, in our home and in our hearts!

Boys Will Be Boys

Out of His fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given.  John 1:16

 2:45pm. I had just completed Malachi’s breathing treatment and was about to start his afternoon feeding.  “O.K. Mal, what’s next?” I asked.  His eyes darted sideways, then back to me, and then sideways again – his way of signaling that he wanted his Dynavox, his computerized communication system.

 “You want your Dynavox?”  I asked.

 He blinked, yes.

 “O.k” I said as I went to retrieve it. 

 I returned to his room with the Dynavox in hand and connected the device to the bedside arm, then turned it on.  Next, I attached the splint with switch to his foot so that he could activate it.   The device booted up and began to scan through picture symbols one line at a time.  When the TV page appeared, Malachi clicked with his foot on the TV picture symbol and instantly, the flat screen TV mounted on his bedroom wall came on.  Then, Malachi clicked the switch until the family page appeared on the screen.  When the device scanned to a picture of his brother Joshua, Malachi clicked on the picture symbol and the computerized voice boomed, “Josh, come watch a movie with me.”  Joshua, who was in the next room, heard his “summon” and came into Malachi’s room.

 “Hey little brother!”  You want to watch a movie with me?” he said.

 Malachi looked at his brother and blinked yes.  Joshua retrieved a movie from the bulging stack of movies on Malachi’s shelf and inserted it into the DVD player.  After popping some popcorn and grabbing a Gatorade, Joshua returned to Malachi’s room and settled into the big, comfy rocking chair for the start of the movie.   Joshua pressed the play button on the remote control and the movie began.  I smiled at the sight of my two boys enjoying a movie together.  Just simple pleasures.   All was right with the world.  I retreated to the living room to watch a pre-taped program with Maurice.  Not more than ten minutes later, my perfect utopia slowly began to erode....

“STOP Malachi!”  Joshua yelled.  Heavy sigh.  “STOP!” he said. 

I got up from the couch and walked into Malachi’s room.

 “What’s going on?”  I said 

“Malachi keeps turning the TV on and off.  He’s soooo annoying!”  Joshua said.

I fought to hide my smile.  Malachi has virtually no muscle strength in his body.  He does, however, have a very strong mind.  With all of the strength he could muster in his big toe, Malachi deliberately and repeatedly turned the TV off and on to get under Joshua’s skin -and he rather enjoyed it!  I went to Malachi’s bedside. 

“Malachi, it’s not nice to turn the TV off when you asked your brother to watch a movie with you,” I said.  He stared at me with big, brown innocent eyes. 

“Do you want Joshua to watch the movie with you?”  I asked.

 Yes, he blinked. 

“Okay, well you can’t turn the TV off and on, okay?”

 Yes, he blinked, again.

 I kissed his forehead and winked at Joshua on my way back to the living room.  Moments later, I heard Joshua muttering under his breath, then stomp out of Malachi’s room and up the stairs to his own room.  I went into Malachi’s room and approached his bedside. 

“What happened buddy?”  I asked.  Malachi’s eyes darted back and forth between the Dynavox, his foot switch and me.  I frowned and stared at him as I attempted to figure out what he was trying to say. 

“Your Dynavox?” I asked

 Yes, he blinked. 

“What about it?”

 He looked down at his foot switch, then back at me.  I went to inspect the foot switch and discovered that it was unplugged!  I looked at Malachi.

 “Did Joshua unplug you?”  I asked.

 Malachi blinked yes.

 Uuuuggghhh!  “Do you want me to get him?”  I asked glaring.

 Yes, he blinked, again.   

“JOSHUAAAA!!!”  I yelled.  Joshua came downstairs – I met him at the entrance of Malachi’s bedroom.  “Why did you unplug your brother?” I asked. 

“Mom, he kept turning the TV off and on.  Why does he do that?”  an exasperated Joshua asked.  He shot a disapproving look at Malachi.   Malachi smiled back sweetly.

 “Josh, the Dynavox is the one thing he has control over and you took it away from him.  Try to be a little more patient with your brother, please.”  I said. 

“Okay” he muttered as he sheepishly slunk away.

Later that evening, Maurice and I shared a hearty laugh as we discussed the antics between the boys.  Both of us grew up in households where sibling rivalry was as natural and normal as brushing our teeth; it was a routine practice, something we did often and without thought.   Sibling rivalry taught us how to work through our problems and how to get along with one another.  It has always bothered me that the constraints of disability have robbed our boys of typical sibling interactions; I have often felt that void and struggled with finding creative ways to fill it.  But every now and then, God has shown us favor.  Out of His fullness, He gave us a gift - two brothers sparring in a most unconventional way and two parents witnessing the inconceivable.  Our hearts are ever so humbled by His love and compassion and our spirits are filled with unspeakable joy!   His grace is our peace; His grace is sufficient.  Thank you, God, for grace.

 

QUESTION OF THE DAY:  What special favor (grace) has God shown to your family?

Picture Perfect!

 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.  Romans 8: 38-39

Well, the presidential election is over and there is much to comment on – still..  The commentary that is closest to my heart rest not in the politics, but in the pictures of our beloved first family.  A picture is a powerful image frozen in time; it is framed emotional memory that has the power to stoke all five senses.  A picture can never depreciate its value to its beholden. I have rather enjoyed sifting through photos of the Obama family during the election cycle.  It’s offered me a glimpse into their lives and into the heart of who they are as a family.  Flipping through photos of the first family makes me think about my own family photos.  I wonder what the outside world sees, feels and thinks when they look at pictures of my family. I think that pictures convey very powerful messages.  Sometimes those messages are intentional, sometimes not, but always left to the interpretation of the viewer.  When I look at the Obama family photos, to me those photos say, “together we are a strong, close and loving family; our bond is cemented in the secure love that we share.”  Even in their “unscripted” photos, I observe that one of the first family’s strongest languages of love is physical touch; they express love towards one another through touching – i.e. holding hands, arms around waist, hugging, head-on-shoulder, etc....  If I had to caption my own family photo it would say, “...nothing can separate us from the love of God.”  I chose that caption because disability has made several attempts at wreaking havoc in my family’s life, yet we have prevailed.  As I look back over my life in family photos, I remember the humbling beginning of our journey with disability.  I remember being camera-shy about exposing my “different” family to the world; I feared an unwelcome reception.  Going public with disability was not easy for my family.  Often, I felt stares and side-eye glances upon us.  And what was meant to be a whisper was audibly, and painfully, loud.  But in some ways, I suppose going public through pictures may be worse, for you can only assume what people are saying about you and your family.  In the early days of disability, I took great care to hide Malachi’s life-sustaining equipment from the watchful eye of the camera.  I tried to carefully tuck away the huge oxygen tank that sat in the corner of his room mocking me.  I tried to distract the camera’s eye from the ventilator tubing that coiled and hissed endlessly like a snake.  And I tried to perfectly prop Malachi up as if his scoliosis were invisible.  Let me tell you, it’s exhausting and frustrating trying to hide from your own reality!  And then one day I released it; I just let it go.  I decided, why hide?  It is what it is and we are, undeniably, who we are.  Regardless, people will make their own deductions and assumptions about our family with or without a photo.  What’s the point of worrying and hiding?  We just need to show up and be our most authentic, dazzling selves! 

How we show up in photos is how we show up in real life.  I am so grateful that my family and I have grown to the place of no longer feeling vulnerable in front of the camera.  I think that growth is a result of accepting that we are made in the image of God!  God sees the beauty of our uniqueness because after all, He did create it.  And because we are made in His image, we are a picture perfect family!

 

QUESTION OF THE DAY: How would you caption your family photo?

 

For the Love of Sunday

I love Sundays.  I especially love Sunday in my home; it just feels like Christmas day to me - festive and a joy-filled day!  In my home, Sunday represents a day that the family spends together loving each other and loving on the Lord.  For the longest time, my family was not able to worship together because we never had nursing coverage for Malachi during the day on Sunday and it’s too much of a challenge to take Malachi to church every Sunday.  So, Maurice and Joshua would attend the early (7:30am) service at church Sunday morning, while I cared for Malachi.  Once they returned home, I would go to the 11am worship service at church.  Currently, we have weekend day coverage, so technically, we could worship together as a family, however, Maurice and Joshua have become rather fond of the 7:30am service and I of the 11am service.  Additionally, I really like the image of my men-folk attending church together; it strengthens their father-son bond. Sunday morning, everyone in my household is preparing their body, mind and spirit for church.  Maurice is in the shower singing in his best baritone voice, what a fellowship, what a joy divine, leaning on the everlasting arms.... It’s off-key and Josh and I have a good laugh, but I am happy that my husband is not ashamed to joyfully express his love for God.  Joshua is holed up in his bedroom working diligently on tying his tie by himself.  And Malachi is eager to have his daily devotion read to him and his Veggie Tale movie complete so that he can get to the Disney movie of his liking.  

Sunday morning promises the aroma of bacon frying and stacks of fresh blueberry or apple-cinnamon pancakes doused in pure maple syrup for breakfast.  Some mornings, Maurice will peel white potatoes and chop onions and make hash browns with scrambled eggs and cheese – and a big ole’ glass of orange juice to wash it all down.  YUM!  

Sunday morning, we are all dressed in our Sunday best – our best clothes, our best attitude and our best energy for God. Sundays at church is always an awesome worship experience!  The music ministers deep in my soul. Prayers are poetic and heart-felt. Church just feels like a family reunion every Sunday!  Some folks I see from week-to-week, but we hug and kiss like we haven’t seen one another in months.  Other folks I may not see every week, so we play mini-catch-up at church.  The preached word is always relevant, inspiring, powerful and personal. Even if I came to church low, I leave out on a holy high!  And returning home from church feels like a continuous beat –smooth, steady and uninterrupted.  Sunday afternoon in my home is relaxing.  My men-folk are HUGE football fans, so football is on every TV in our home.  And football “atmosphere” is in full force too!  We have donned our church attire and traded it in for sweats and football jerseys.  There is lots of hoopin’ and hollerin’ and chips and pretzels amidst the cheers coming from the television.  And in between, I am digesting bits and pieces of the sermon or Maurice may be humming a song he heard the choir sing.  Church is physically over, but God remains in  the spirit of my family.  Maurice and I often quiz one another at some point in the day – “How was church?” he says, or I may ask him, “What did pastor preach on today?”  We attend the same church, but often the preached word is different for each service.  I love Sunday in my home because it’s the one time during the week when the prepared meal feels like a holiday feast.  During the work week, we have to be quick and creative with the meals we prepare because everyone is on a crazy schedule.  But Sunday dinner is different – it’s special because it is prepared with special love and care.  The juicy, flavorful, tender, oven-roasted chicken tastes like love. Homemade macaroni and cheese prepared to perfection.  And crisp, buttery asparagus is so divine! Just one example of a typical Sunday dinner at my house. Sunday in my home is like no other day of the week; Sunday is in a league of its own.  In my home, Sunday is a day of rest.  We are resting from working and worrying; we are resting from cleaning and complaining.  We are honoring the fact that even God Himself rested on the seventh day from all of His work of creation.  We are honoring His command to rest and honor Him.  I love Sundays in my home because it sets the tone for the remainder of the week.  We are entering the week fully charged with rest; fully charged with full bellies and renewed spirits; fully charged with the embrace of a loving family; fully charged with His promise never to leave nor forsake us.

The best way I know how to thank God for Sunday and Sunday at my home is to honor Him with this song of praise and thanksgiving:

 

Bless the Lord, oh my soul

And all that is within me,

Bless His holy name.

Psalm 103

QUESTION OF THE DAY:  What do you love about Sunday?

Be Still My Heart!

As Jesus and their disciples were on their way, He came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to Him.  She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what He said.  But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.  She came to Him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself?  Tell her to help me!”  “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed.  Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her.”  Luke 10:38

 Nearly three years ago, my husband and I surprised our oldest son, Joshua, with Roscoe, a short-hair poodle we rescued from an animal shelter. Initially, I had some reservations about becoming a pet owner; while I knew that Joshua would be Roscoe’s master, I also understood that having a family pet meant shared responsibility. I knew there would be times when I have to walk him or feed him and care for him when he was sick.  My cup runneth over and so I was reluctant to add more responsibility to my life.  But of course, over time, Roscoe stole my heart and I didn’t mind picking up the slack for him; it was a labor of love.   Aside from his odd, obsessive behavior of circling, Roscoe is a good dog.  He is loving, playful and affectionate.  And he is a loyal companion to no end.  For some odd reason, he has chosen me as his closest companion; he follows me EVERYWHERE and likes to sleep at the foot of my bed.

I can see the Martha in me as it relates to my relationship with Roscoe.  In Luke 10:38, Martha opened her home to Jesus, but she didn’t spend any time with Him because she was distracted with the busyness of her life; she was distracted with raising children, being a wife, running a household, working part-time and serving the Lord.   Martha’s passion for giving resonates with my spirit; like Martha, I give myself away – a lot!  Just last week I made a decision to gracefully bow out of a commitment because I found myself stretched too thin. I was frustrated and exhausted because I simply overextended myself.  And even as I gave in to becoming a pet owner, I was adament about not getting too close to Roscoe; I wasn't sold on sharing my heart with him. While I know that giving pleases God, I also realize that in as much as I am emptying out my spirit through my giving, I must also fill up my spirit by spending quality time with God.  The word of God is fuel for my spirit and investing in cheap gas simply won’t do!  For me, cheap gas is lack luster prayer.  Cheap gas is minimal time in devotion with God. Cheap gas is relying on an “emergency-room-relationship” with God. And cheap gas will also begrudge your giving. 

Nearly three years ago, I opened my home to Roscoe, but it wasn’t until I opened my heart and lovingly accepted the responsibility of caring for him that I began to experience the payoff - his loyalty and his love. I believe that this passage in scripture echoes the same message.  When we invite God into our home we should also invite Him into our heart.  In so doing, we will always reap the benefits of His love and loyalty and no one will ever be able to take that away from us!

QUESTION OF THE DAY:  When was the last time you sat listening at the Lord’s feet?