Prayer need

I just saw this prayer request on facebook and thought I'd pass it on. Please pray for Ashley in Alabama. She lost her home and her pets in the tornadoes and is now in active labor at 22 weeks in the hallway of an overcrowded hospital. This is not somebody that I know so I can't promise any updates, but please pray for her. What trauma.

Sleeping on the job

Having a two-year-old is amazing, but I feel like I need to be doing something all the time. All. The. Time. If I don't constantly pick up things around the house, it suddenly looks like a disaster zone. This can happen quickly. In the span of an hour it can look simultaneously like a house that's been lived in for decades and one that is half unpacked. Yesterday I spent Benjamin's naptime cleaning out the car and carseat instead of picking up the house a bit like I usually do. I was feeling really great about the way the car was looking when I walked into the house and saw that what I hadn't picked up seemed to have magically multiplied. By that time, Benjamin was waking so I didn't do anything about it.

Needless to say, by his naptime this afternoon it had multiplied to outrageous proportions. I just kept waiting for the governor to come by and declare it a state of emergency. Benjamin and I had spent the morning with friends at the zoo, shopping, at lunch, and we were both pretty tuckered by naptime. I have been making it a point when he goes down to read at least part of a children's book to keep my children's book blog from getting stuck in a rut of the same old books I know by heart. So despite the mess around me, I stretched out on the couch with Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder and read a chapter. But as Almanzo and his father hewed crossbeams for a bobsled, my eyes started to get heavier and heavier until I found myself dreaming weirdly of shopping at CVS for a bobsled and trying to use my coupons. Before I knew it, I had slept for close to an hour, Benjamin was waking up, and I still hadn't picked up the house.

It actuallydidn't take long to get it in some order once I popped a Toy Story dvd in for Benjamin and gave him a snack. I am constantly thankful for my Shark floorsweeper, the lifesaver of any mother of a toddler. But the whole chaotic house week got me thinking.

I think my spirit is a lot like my house. If I neglect it for even a day, it starts to get cluttered up with so much laundry and dust, stinky shoes, and crayon marks on the furniture. I start to feel overwhelmed, to dwell on the wrong things, to feel more and more inclined to sleep on the job. It is my job to fill my mind with whatever is good, pure, lovely, and praise-worthy. But if I'm too tired for a few nights and I go to sleep instead of doing my Bible study, or I spend several days reading a Jennifer Weiner book and NOT reading something uplifting, I start to feel cluttered and dusty. I forget the good and lovely things and I get grumpy and short tempered. You know, no matter how often you dust your shelves, there will always be more dust accumulating (that's why I hate dusting, by they way). Cleanliness doesn't last on its own but a mess does. Neatness doesn't grow without help but clutter does. It's the same with my mind and my spirit. The growly thoughts grow without much help. The lovely thoughts need to be polished and shined and scented with lemon every day.

Hard To Get

This song is strong on my heart today. It was written by the inimitable Rich Mullins but is covered beautifully here by Phil Stacey. It is a great song for those times when you are struggling with so many questions. Like the psalmist David so long ago, we can know that our gracious Lord is willing to hear our hard questions and though He is hard to get, He wants to be known.

I hope this song speaks to you today the way it speaks to me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUCXC5K5PfY

Let me hide

Rock of Ages

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure;
Save from wrath and make me pure.
Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When mine eyes shall close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee

I love old hyms. The church that Jon and I are a part of does not often sing them, but I find myself returning to them again and again in times of need. It seems just now that my prayer list is heavy and that my heart will break. From international devastation to the illnesses and personal losses of friends, I find myself in need of a Rock. A hiding place.

Beginning to sink

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him, "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" Matthew 14:29-31

It has been nearly eight years since the end of Jacob's Well, the ministry I worked for. I still dream about it sometimes. A lot, lately. In the past eight years I've noticed a tendency to turn myself over to grief when I think about it too much. I still feel it so.

I still feel betrayed. I still feel embarrassed and guilty that I didn't have more discernment. I still feel an unbearable weight on my chest when I think of the friend whose marriage was taken by the enemy and so much more. I still sometimes weep when I wonder about the girls. And I still feel confused.

I could sink in these feelings. And sink and sink. And drown. Gulp the water and feel it burn my lungs until I am finally beyond feeling. I could do that.

Or I could do what Peter did. I could cry out, "Lord, save me!" and feel His hand catch me up. Feel Him set me in a spacious place. On solid ground.

This time I choose this again. How many times has He saved me since the cross? I ask Him to do it again. I ask Him to cease my trembling and lift my chin. I ask Him to woo my friend, to lavish her with His unfailing love. I ask Him to seal the girls as His own forever. I beg that they will not reject the gospel because they saw it so abused.

And I pray for the grace to cry out again the next time I begin to sink. His salvation is immediate even when my faith falters.

Christmas Book Give-Away Today!

Today, on my Children's Book Quote of the Day blog, I'm giving away one of my favorite Christmas books! This would make a great gift for any adult or child on your list ;)

www.childrensbookquotes.wordpress.com

You have until midnight tomorrow night to enter. Good luck!

The Woman Who Lived In Her Shoes

There once was a woman who lived in her shoes
Feet ready to find something useful to do
Every hour of every day
She toiled and spun and slaved away
Packing kids' lunches and making their beds
"I am a good mother" is what she said.
With calloused heels and painful pinched toes
Her feet were swollen with motherly woes
"I hope they appreciate all that I do,"
Said the old young woman who lived in her shoes.

There was a young woman who woke with a sigh
A dimpled cheek and a twinkling eye
She laughed at laundry, the dishes, the kitchen floor
She said, "Sunny days are not meant for chores!"
So she walked out to feel grass under her feet
And rolled a big ball with a baby so sweet
She smiled at the sun as it kissed her face
And wrapped her babies in a playful embrace
The sounds of gay laughter so filled her head
That she never could hear what the neighbors said
And though her scrapbooks were never done
Her memory was full of days spent in the sun.