Of Mice and Women

Challenges for women come in many forms as life rolls along. Sometimes they come in the form of illness – the children, elderly parents, a spouse, you or even the pets can become ill and provide challenges for a woman. Sometimes, they come in the form of broken things – vehicles, appliances, toilets, the toy of a preschooler, the heart of a teenager or any other myriad of things can stop working as they were intended to function. Sometimes those challenges can come in the form of little furry rodents called mice.

When I first began to notice little holes in bags of food in my pantry, I wondered if I had picked up a damaged item at the grocery. Then I noticed the little holes had jagged edges to them and the food inside the bags also had little jagged pieces missing. Finally, I discovered little dark pellets around the pantry that let me know there were creatures having a party with my food every night and this time, they were not teenagers. Mice!

After cleaning and throwing away more food than I care to think about, I headed out to the store for some assistance. I bought what looked to be fairly humane traps that would allow for the capture and disposal of mice without me ever having to touch or see them. Carefully, I set the traps around, anxious to have my problems contained for easy disposal. But the mice who had decided to party in my pantry apparently snickered behind their little whiskers at my vain attempts, and the traps remained undisturbed – unlike the food in my pantry. I decided to replace the traps with packaged poison that was supposed to be very enticing to little rodents, but once again, my photo apparently ended up in the editorial section of “Mice Times” with the words “Who is she kidding?” under my picture. My poison packages remained untouched, but I lost another bag of hot dog buns. My father even gave me blocks of poison that had produced multiple dead rats around his bird feeders when he had a rodent problem, but every night the mice return to chew on the poison while none of them turn up dead, at least not in my house. They just keep coming back for the party.

So what is a woman to do? I am so glad that you asked.

I honestly believe my mice are very symptomatic of so many other large and small challenges in my life and the lives of many women. It really isn’t about the mice. It rarely is about whatever challenge life may deal us at even given moment. It is about my response.

This is typical of my process when things in life are a struggle, though the order of events changes depending on where my heart is resting at the time. I cry out to God, “Please deliver me!” I work very hard at finding my own answer. I look to see God bring deliverance. And here is the reality in my life – sometimes, deliverance from my challenge does not come.

So what does my response look like in those times? What if my challenge continues, sometimes even increasing in difficulty? Oh sweet sisters, I think so often God desires not to catch the mouse, but to calm the mouse catcher. How often does my Father long for me not to know deliverance, but instead to know my Deliverer? For in those days when I do not see deliverance from my challenge, I have an opportunity to know my Deliverer more deeply. To seek His face. To look for His strength. To depend on His love. To be the place where I take refuge.

He is my loving God and my fortress,
My stronghold and my deliverer,
My shield, in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me.
Psalm 144:2 (NIV)

So what is your challenge today? What are the mice in your pantry? Do the heavens seem silent? Are you weary in waiting for deliverance? Stop. Breathe deeply. Know your Deliverer and take refuge in Him.

Seeing Glory

Only a few days left until Christmas and for more than a few women, life is at its ultimate craziness. Decorating, shopping, parties, baking, recitals and concerts, travel plans, cleaning, packing, wrapping, card writing and a myriad of other seasonal activities seem to add themselves to a woman’s already traditionally long “to do” list. Rarely does a new year roll around that I do not hear at least one woman exclaim, “I’m so glad the holidays are over.”

In addition, there are many of us who struggle to see this as a joyous time of year due to the circumstances of life. Children not returning home for the holidays, aging parents with issues, military family members deployed far away from home, a doctor’s diagnosis you never wanted to hear, facing Christmas without the presence of a beloved family member who has passed on, or one of many other painful situations. So, between the stress of the season itself and the stress of life in general, where do we find the joy?

The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.
we have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only,
who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:14

As a teenager, I learned the hard way that Christmas is not always a joyous time when we unexpectedly lost my brother just three days before Christmas. His loss was not only devastating to us as a family, but also to our small community and church. I still remember the pastor’s message in that dark hour. He preached about how Christmas is not always a joyous time, but it always brings joy because it brings Jesus. Jesus came and we can see His glory.

How? This week, He has graciously shown me His glory in so many ways. I see His glory when my tired husband makes time to call me on the computer no matter how long and stressful his day may have been. I see His glory when my oldest son comes out from the city to take his sister Christmas shopping. I see His glory when my daughter-in-law travels out to the suburbs not once, but twice, in one day to take my daughter to get her hair cut. I see His glory when my younger son rearranges his schedule to come home early and help out his family. I see His glory when my daughter prepares a meal for me after a long day at school and rehearsals. I see His glory when meals show up at the door unexpectedly to make our lives easier. I see His glory as people give my daughter rides to and from school. I see His glory when friends call and say they will pick up my son at a distant airport very late at night. And more than anywhere, I see His glory in that He would send His only Son to save someone as messed up as me.

Biblical scholars can illuminate much more profound demonstrations of seeing God’s glory. But for me, per usual, the lessons must always be kept very simple. God’s glory is evident all around me in the small occurrences of daily life. And seeing His glory brings joy to my Christmas.

So how about you? Where is your stress level this Christmas? Could you use some joy? May I encourage you to begin to look for His glory? Look for those small places in your life where God has reminded you how very much He loves you. It may be the best gift under your tree this year.

Traffic

No matter how advanced our GPS systems, how adequately we have timed our travel, how little luggage we have to clear through the airport security lines, or how short a distance we may have to travel to share time with loved ones during the holidays, all of us are probably going to encounter traffic. Road construction, snaking lines at the airport, even just the checkout lines at the local discount store or grocery (do they ever think to go on and open all those lanes?) can quickly change our mood of holiday joy to a character that would even spook Ebenezer. So if we all know that traffic is probably in our future during the next few weeks, what can we do to keep ourselves from being miserable in the midst of it?

“Step out of the traffic!
Take a long loving look at me, your High God,
Above politics, above everything.”
Psalm 46:10 (The Message)

What a concept. Step out of the traffic. But how do we realistically do that as women who need to get places, feed others, wrap gifts, do some laundry, decorate our homes, write some cards, stuff a turkey and buy some groceries? No matter how delightful our spouses or children, we most likely cannot expect to go soak in some bubbles and come out finding all our chores accomplished. To get on the interstate in late November or December and expect to glide away with no brake lights appearing in front of us as everything narrows to one lane is probably not going to happen either. Nor are we going to show up at the airport and be asked to walk straight through security without waiting our turn. And let’s face it ladies – Walmart is never going to open all those checkout lanes, not even on Black Friday or Christmas Eve.

I think the key to stepping out of the traffic is found in the second part of this verse where it tells us to “take a long, loving look at me, your High God.” But how am I supposed to do that in a season when I can never seem to get everything done? Believe it or not, this is something we can do, even in the November/December crazies.

Taking a long, loving look at God can be as simple as focusing on the Christmas carols playing in Walmart while we wait in line. “Glory to the newborn king – God and sinners reconciled.” That is us! Reconciled to God no matter how much we have screwed up our lives or continue to make mistakes each day. We are reconciled to the sovereign God of the universe. Focusing on a life changing truth like that can definitely make the lines easier to tolerate, even turning what seemed to be an unnecessary delay into moments of peace.

Taking a long, loving look at God can be as simple as choosing to rehearse everything He has done for us while we are stuck in traffic. Instead of glancing repeatedly at the clock the next time I am stuck in a jam, how might my attitude change if I choose to use that time to start listing all the things God has done for me and my family this past year? I may arrive later than I wanted to at my destination, but won’t I be more pleasant when I get there?

Taking a long, loving look at God can be as simple as standing in the airport security line and smiling at all the agents who have been on their feet all day, remembering how much God loves them too. Do they know how much God loves them? He tells me He came to reconcile them too. I may not get to share this truth with them, but could I make a difference in their day by just being nice and sharing a smile or asking them about their day? If nothing else, it will certainly change my focus from my agenda, to what God might have for someone else today.

So where is God calling you to “step out of the traffic and take a long, loving look at me” today? He is “above politics, above everything.” Above the traffic I find myself in today. Let’s step out together and look at Him.

30 Days of Thanksliving

As I drove down the interstate heading back home to Orlando at the beginning of that November, it was looking to be a long month. In fact, it was looking to be a long several months. I had just said goodbye to my husband as he deployed to Bosnia where he was scheduled to stay until summer of the next year. While my ten year old daughter alternated between entertaining herself and sleeping in the back seat, I listened to a book on CD to try and keep myself alert and focused on the task at hand.

Jan Karon’s Mitford novels have always been favorites of mine. This was not my first exposure to this particular tale of Father Tim (In This Mountain, Jan Karon, 2002), but I felt the repetition of the story would be comforting and not distracting as I drove. As is often the case with rehearing a familiar story though, something struck me differently this time. Father Tim was learning a lesson in being thankful during the difficult seasons of life from 1 Thessalonians.

In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
1 Thessalonians 5:18 (KJV)

As I heard Father Tim learn the lesson of “in everything give thanks,” I realized that God was speaking to me. Yes, the months ahead were not looking particularly appealing. My heart was hurting and I was quite frankly afraid. Would I trust God enough to give thanks “in everything”? That seemed to be the challenge the Father was laying before me.

Upon my return home, I was greeted with the normal small catastrophes that greet many military spouses as quickly as the door closes behind the deploying service member. The funniest (now, it’s funny – it certainly wasn’t then) memory was sitting at the dinner table while wasps began to come in through the kitchen chandelier as we ate our meal. This was followed by a fore ray into the attic with one of the boys trying to balance across attic beams to hunt down and spray the offending wasp nest. Give thanks – really?? The only thing I knew how to do was just begin by simply obeying what I felt I had been told. “Thank you God for the wasps.” It felt really stupid, but obedience is often awkward, especially in the baby steps.

My circumstances by no means were changed. Rob was still very, very gone. I was still trying to balance what life looked like as a single parent with two boys in the house, homeschooling a daughter, and another son away at college. But something in my heart began slowly to change. Life did not seem as heavy. As I began to give thanks, my mind seemed to turn more frequently to the many positive things going on in my life and the lives of those around me. I was a little less grumpy and probably easier for the kids to live with, certainly more pleasant for my husband to hear from each day. The main difference was the peace that was seeping deeper and deeper into my soul as I focused on what I had, not what I lacked, trusting God to be good in all things that were coming our way during that season.

Who knew that six years later I would find myself in another November with my husband deployed a world away. So the challenge is once again renewed in my heart. Will I choose to obey God in His word and “in everything give thanks”? This month, I am issuing myself a challenge. I want to spend the next 30 days with an attitude of “thanksliving.” Every day, I will find at least one thing to be thankful for and write it down. Some days, it may be the obvious things like my great husband or awesome children. Some days, there may be wasps coming out of the ceiling. Whatever my day looks like, I want to choose an attitude of thanks.

Would you be willing to join me? What difference could it make in your life if you took God seriously and “in everything gave thanks”? I would like to challenge you. Grab a dollar store journal, a composition notebook or even a gum wrapper out of your purse and write down one thing each day for which you are giving thanks. Let’s see what God will do in our lives and hearts when we take Him at His word by “thanksliving.”

Walking through the Storm

Confession: I am a total geek for musicals. Most of the time, the older the musical, the better I like it. Drag out the Lerner and Lowe, the Irving Berlin and especially the Rodgers and Hammerstein. I love watching characters walk around through the most dire or joyful of life circumstances and at the most improbable possible moments bursting into song. How totally unrealistic, escapist and just plain marvelous.

One of my favorite scenes in the classic Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical “Carousel” is when a pregnant young wife named Julie (played by Shirley Jones) is comforted by her cousin Nettie after the unexpected, tragic death of her husband. Nettie sings the famous song to Julie, “You’ll Never Walk Alone.”* Meant as words of encouragement for this young grieving woman unsure of what her future now holds, the song speaks these words to her grief:

“When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark.
At the end of the storm is a golden sky and the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain,
Though your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone. You’ll never walk alone.”
*music by Richard Rodgers, lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II (1945)

So lately, whether it is due to the rainstorms of our Virginia fall weather, or just observing the storms that come into life, this song has been on my mind. With all due respect to Rodgers and Hammerstein and great musical theatre, may I make an assertation? For a child of God, this song is pretty much bunk. Yet the words of it speak strongly to what is a common default mode for myself and, I believe, many of us as women.

Life is hard. Maybe in small ways, maybe in large ways. The baby will not sleep at night, the grade school child is struggling, the teenager seems like an alien who has inhabited the body of the sweet child you once knew, the adult child makes choices you cannot understand, the medical report does not bring good news, the mailbox brings unexpected bills, the phone rings with words you never wanted to hear, the military orders are not what you wanted to see, the job takes an unexpected turn, the marriage is not what you thought it would be, the nursing home calls with yet another problem with your elderly loved one – have I hit everyone somewhere in their life yet??

As women, so many of us respond with a Rodgers and Hammerstein mentality. Hold your head up high, don’t be afraid of the dark (or at least don’t even think about admitting you are afraid of the dark), and walk on. Walk on. Sounds very good on the surface. Sounds very American. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and all of that good stuff. But, wow, how truly very dangerous.

God has graciously shown me there is only one place I need to be when the storms of life hit, small or large. And it is not with my head held high. I need to be face down on the ground before Him. Mentally, emotionally and sometimes even physically in a position of submission. This is not where my default mode takes me. Frankly, this is also not always a particularly comfortable way to handle the storms of life. When I am face down, I have to admit several things that do not roll easily off my independent minded tongue. Like the fact that I need help. That I cannot make it on my own. That my storms, no matter how small they may appear to another, are more than I can manage. It involves a lot of humility which is not a very fun place to be.

So where is the good news in this? I thought you would never ask. :)

"Unless the Lord had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death.
When I said, 'My foot is slipping,' your love, O Lord, supported me.
When anxiety was great within me, your consolation, brought joy to my soul."
Psalm 94:17-19 (NIV)

Notice, the psalmist does not say that his circumstances have resolved themselves for a storybook happy ending. He simply says that when he admitted that his foot was slipping, God’s love and consolation brought joy to his soul. As difficult as it is to fall facedown in my heart and admit my inability to deal with my storm, when I do, God is so faithful to bring joy to my soul. Sometimes instantaneously, sometimes not. Sometimes the healing is painful, long and slow. Sometimes my circumstances reverse themselves. Many times, they do not. But the change in my heart from a soul in the storm struggling to hold its head up high to a humble submission of slipping feet is astounding.

So how about you? What is the storm in your life today? Are you, like most of us tend to do as women, struggling to hold your head up high? Why not stop right now and ask the God of the universe, who is in total control of your situation, sees your situation and knows your inability to walk on, to give you a hand? Can you right now go facedown in your heart instead of walking with your head held high? The storm and winds may contain to rage, but God is willing to bring joy to your soul in their midst.

All the Wrong Places

As a young mom raising two active preschool boys, most days were filled with drama with a little d. Arguments, rambunctious activity that caused injuries or spills to be cleaned, tears, and various other dramatic scenes played themselves out during the days when our boys were young. On a few days however, we encountered drama with a large D. This was one of those days.

One of the Saturday morning activities we enjoyed from time to time was going to garage sales. The boys loved having a dollar that would bring them home some of the most interesting loot. On this particular Saturday, I had loaded up David to go with me while leaving Mark home with Rob. We had recently returned from a Tennessee visit with Rob’s family where I had contracted a nasty case of poison ivy which had required medical intervention in the form of steroids. Little d drama. As we were out shopping, I began to realize that the rising heat and humidity of Florida were not helping my poison ivy, so I decided it was time for David and me to head back home to Rob, Mark and some air conditioning. When I went to start my car, it was completely dead. Little d drama. This was in the days before we were all using cell phones, so I had to approach the home where we were shopping and ask to use their phone. Little d drama. I called Rob and asked him to pack up Mark and come and get us. When Rob arrived, he looked over the car and felt our own only option was to call a tow truck. Little d drama. When I tried to reassure him that this would work out okay and commented on his countenance looking like someone had just died, he looked me in the eyes and said, “My father did.” Now drama had a large D.

We returned home and began to make plans for going to Tennessee. Since we had just returned from a week there, we were unsure about the wisdom of packing up our preschool boys and returning with them to assist Rob’s mom and attend a funeral. Having no family living in Orlando, several members of our Sunday school class offered to share childcare for the boys so Rob and I could attend the funeral and be of some help to the family. The difficulty was that none of these families were well known to our boys or had ever kept them before. One family had no children and the other one had only one baby girl. How would they adapt to our rambunctious preschoolers? And how would the boys feel being left with these families for a week? To add to the confusion, it was the day before Mother’s day. This preschool mom did not relish the idea of spending Mother’s day without the two people who had made her a mother. What were we to do?

As Rob and I ran around the house doing laundry, trying to pack some suitcases, stopping the paper and all the other chores a family needs to complete before travel, I pleaded with God to give me wisdom about our choice. Should we leave the boys or should they stay? What was the right thing to do?

I called my mom who offered to have her and Dad meet us in Knoxville and take the boys home with them. I called some friends and asked their opinion. I asked Rob more times than he could count, “What are we going to do?” I was looking hard for wisdom, but was I looking in the right places?

By late afternoon, we had not reached a decision and our window was rapidly closing. A tad bit put out, I reminded the Lord that I had asked Him multiple times for an answer and He had obviously not given me one yet. “Lord, have you seen what time it is? I need to know something here.” Graciously and patiently, He reminded me that I had not opened His word that day. How was I to hear Him speak if I kept doing all of the talking, but none of the listening???

I knelt down by my son’s bed with my Bible. I reminded the Lord again that time was of the essence. Can you just picture Him laughing? I can. I prayed something along these lines. “Lord, I know you do not having anything in the Bible about a father’s funeral and burial, but if you could be really specific here, my addled brain would greatly appreciate it.” I opened my Bible to where I had been studying and read the next passage. Here were the words He gave to me.

Joseph threw himself upon his father and wept over him and kissed him. Then Joseph directed the physicians in his service to embalm his father Israel . . When the days of mourning had passed, Joseph said . . . . “Now let me go up and bury my father; then I will return.”

Pharaoh said, “Go up and bury your father, as he made you swear to do.”

So Joseph went up to bury his father. All Pharaoh’s officials accompanied him-the dignitaries of his court and all the dignitaries of Egypt-besides all the members of Joseph’s household and his brothers and those belonging to his father’s household. Only their children and their flocks and herds were left in Goshen.
Genesis 50: 1-2a, 4a, 5c-8 (NIV)


I came running out of the bedroom yelling at Rob, “We’re leaving the kids in Orlando!” and we began to make the necessary preparations. The boys had a wonderful week staying with friends and Rob and I were able to do what we needed to do with his family.

Though this was not the first time or the last time God has directly answered my prayers for wisdom in His word, it was one of the more dramatic times. In fact, it happened again this morning. I pleaded for answers to my little d drama only to go to His word and have Him meet me right there. So what distracts me down from going there first? Why do I tend to look in all the wrong places for answers before looking to Him? Do you struggle like I do?

I am not sure it is as important to answer why I make incorrect choices as it is to understand how I need to grasp truth that will guide me to make the correct choices. If I truly understand how completely in control God is – then I can look in the right places. If I wrap my brain around the fact that God chooses most frequently today to speak to us through the Bible, His word – then I can look in the right places. If I trust that God is a loving Father who cares more about me than I cared for those little boys around my ankle years ago – then I can look in the right places.

What do truth do you need to grasp today to help you stop looking in all the wrong places?

At My Right Hand

One of my favorite pieces of equipment that we used when Libby was a baby was the infant sling. It was hard to imagine when we first began to use the sling all the advantages this piece of cloth would provide us. Life with a baby was very different when Libby came along because we had two boys in elementary school. Our activities could not stop because of the baby’s schedule, so she had to quickly adapt to whatever the need of the moment was in their lives. Did we spend quiet mornings cuddling and nursing her when she first woke up? No, more often we were pulling her out of her crib, throwing her in her car seat (often still wearing a wet diaper) and nursing her while sitting in a lawn chair at the soccer field, very thankful for the wonderful privacy of a baby sling. As she grew older Libby enjoyed riding in the sling like a kangaroo baby. She would sit with her legs crossed, back next to me and have a wonderful view of the world while still feeling safe being swaddled next to her mom.

For all the advantages the infant sling gave in raising a baby, one of my favorite aspects of the sling was the freedom it gave me to do other things with my hands. While Libby was securely swaddled against me in whatever position was comfortable for the moment and situation, I had still had two free hands. As the mother of two young sons this was helpful and important. As the mother of Mark, it was critical.

Mark was very active and often impulsive as a youngster. Having a free hand in order to hold onto him helped to avoid numerous disasters, both large and small. When we crossed the street, I did not have to worry about him running in front of cars. When we walked in the afternoon after a Central Florida thunderstorm, I could lift his feet over the puddles, instead of watching him drag his tennis shoes through them. As we watched Rob play softball, I could stop him from running out on the field to join the game. The baby sling provided the free hands I needed in order to provide Mark the safety and support he needed in that season of his life.

When I remember those days of carrying Libby while reaching down to grab Mark’s right hand and support him, I also see a beautiful picture of what my heavenly Father does for me.

I have set the Lord always before me.
Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.
Psalm 16:8

When my Father is holding my hand, numerous disasters, both large and small, can be avoided. He will keep me from running out into danger. He will lift me up when I am tempted to drag my feet through the mud puddles of life. He will even graciously hold me back when I want to join a game that was never designed for my level of play.

There is one key difference between my Father’s holding of my hand though, and my holding of Mark’s hand those many years ago. Mark held my hand by my choice, whether that was his decision of the moment or not. Often he had other plans and other ideas, but Mom’s hand usually won out. My Father does not reach down and grab my hand against my will. He waits for me to choose to hold His hand, to set Him always before me. I have to first make a decision to trust His wisdom instead of my own decisions or perceived skills.

So how about you? Are you finding yourself today dashing into dangerous streets, strolling through mud puddles or playing in games not meant for you? Are you willing to let go of your own abilities and/or desires to “set the Lord always before you?” Are you tired of feeling shaken? The Father waits patiently, anxious to assist you. The moment you reach out, you will find him willing and ready, at your right hand.