How to know if you’re a Christian

There’s all kinds of pamphlets and information out there that evangelicals have created to help you know if you’re really a Christian. Those well-meaning pieces of paper printed in love point to verses throughout the Bible and if you’re in doubt, you can pray the sinners prayer and do the ABC thing one more time (Accept, Believe, Confess, for those unfamiliar with the lingo).

However, I have found a more practical, real-life test. Go camping. With your kids. On a weekend that was supposed to be nice and isn’t. Here’s my three-fold test to see how much you really love Jesus and your neighbor:

1. Go camping on a weekend that was forecasted to be nice with the exception of scattered showers on the first day. Suffer through a thunderstorm the first night, high winds and tree branches falling all around you the second night, and frigid temperatures the third night.

2. Have neighbors move in on one side of you that have the toddler from Hades. He throws temper tantrums 24/7, including at 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. Wake up and discover that neighbors have set up camp on the other side of you who drive your dream car, the one you’ve been drooling over for a year and were joking with your husband about how much nicer it would be to take THAT car camping instead of your own. Stare at that car for three days while you freeze your tush off making eggs and pancakes and roasting marshmallows.

3. Just when you think you are in the clear – your husband decides to go home one day early because no one has slept in three days and it’s a recipe for disaster, you’ve maintained your cool and your cheer thus far, doing your best to hold in tears and temper tantrums (even though you really wanted to join that toddler in the dirt on the campsite next to you), when your husband informs you he’s seen two ticks on the tent and you should inspect the children very closely for hitch hiking ticks. Panic. Check. Re-check. Determine everyone is bug free, but because of your manic tendencies, you itch all over for the next two days.

After enduring tests #1, #2, and #3 see how much you still love Jesus and your neighbor. And if you’re still thankful for rain and wind and fall temperatures and can love your camping neighbors and feel compassion for the other mother with the dirt-loving devil child and are thankful for healthy children and the chance to spend quality time connecting with them, you’re most likely a Christian. If not, pick up a pamphlet and pray the ABC one more time.

We had a fun family weekend. Minus the camping part. At least it’s fodder for good stories and funny memories.

MDM #20

the seductive peach

While my mom and I were canning peaches the other day, in between bites of juicy peach off the pit, I started thinking about the fruit of the original sin.  For some reason, we always attach an apple to that first sin in the Garden of Eden, but I’m not sure that’s quite right. Apples are pretty, and healthy, and tasty, but tempting? Compare a freshly picked apple to a freshly picked tree-ripened peach, dripping with juicy flavorful flesh. You take a bite out of a fresh peach and the aroma instantly fills the room. Your teeth sink into the intoxicating flesh and the surrounding world mists away. And then someone invites you to share their bite of peach and how, oh how can you resist?

Peaches are a more fragile fruit than apples. They bruise more easily, they ripen more quickly and don’t have as long of a shelf life as apples. I mean, you can juggle an apple (yes, I can), but juggle a peach and you’ve ruined it. I think a gorgeous peach tree, loaded with this delicate, fragile fruit and a “do not eat” sign makes so much more sense than an apple tree. The fruit matches the crime. They took something beautiful and full of life that God had cautioned them to treat with care and respect – and they bruised it, forever damaged for all future generations.

An apple, in my opinion, just isn’t as appealing (ahem, no pun intended). Even the freshest, sweetest apple, doesn’t melt in your mouth the way a peach does. And we know how humans, especially in the face of sin, prefer to take the easier route. Face it, apples, you just aren’t as seductive as peaches.

I rambled on, and my mom agreed with me, that quite possibly it could have been a peach instead of an apple.Then she reminded me “but the problem wasn’t with the apple or peach on the tree, it was the pair on the ground.” Yeah, read that one again. And now you know where I get my awesome sense of humor from.

Song Prayers

Over the past year, the kids have started doing “song prayers” at bedtime. Little Miss loves to sing, and one evening she asked if she could sing her prayer. It was beautiful, spontaneous and heart-felt. T-Rex will occasionally join in as well. Unscripted singing seems to unleash their little souls of gratefulness with angelic musical adoration.

On a recent 45-minute drive home from my in-laws, Little Miss started singing a prayer. I clicked off the cd I had started playing to help me stay awake, and tuned my ears instead to the backseat, trying to remember as much of her verse as I could. Here’s some snippets:

We are singing praise to God, We are singing to Him.
Praise Him, All praise to Him.

We are His little sheep.
Let us run to Him and not away from Him.
We love Him so much and want to be with Him.

And even when we go far from home and miss our mothers and fathers and all sorts of grandmas and grandpas, He is always with us, telling us not to be afraid or sad.

And when bad things happen He is there with us, He never leaves us.
We want to praise Him, praise Him all the time.
We love Him so very very much and want to be with Him in Heaven, Amen.

The sun was sinking just below the treeline casting a fire orange glow across the fields. My soul sighed with deep contentment as the little amen left her lips. She asked me if it was good. I told her it was very good and so beautiful. In fact, I don’t think a whole host of angels could sing more beautifully or please Him more than the sincere outpouring of a child who wants nothing more than to love Him and be with Him forever. And as a parent – to get a glimpse into your child’s beautiful heart – that’s worth way more than a million dollars.

#9 MDM

Wake up with Morning Snuggles

I’m very excited to share with you that I have an article posted on catapultmagazine.com This is the first time ever that I’ve had an article published! I met the great folks from Culture is not Optional at the Festival of Faith and Writing a few weeks ago. They publish Catapult Magazine online every other week, as well as host Practicing Resurrection weekends full of camping and gardening. I’d love to go sometime!

My article is “Morning Snuggles” in which I wrestle with being a night owl and overcoming guilt to find peace, finally, in the mornings. Be sure to check out the rest of the articles in this issue themed “Wake Up” as well.

Thanks to Rob and Kirstin for the great online magazine!

The Waiting Room

I sometimes see God working in places when I’m completely not expecting it. Like the dentist’s office, when I’m just trying to read a book while patiently waiting my turn.

I was there for a consultation visit, to meet the staff and decide if I wanted to make this place my home for dental care. I arrived at 1:30 p.m. along with three others. We sat in the waiting room waiting for the staff to return from lunch, and I attempted to scarf up the few minutes of peace in a  good book. I found myself staring at the same sentence for the next fifteen minutes as quite the scene developed around me.

A gentleman in his fifties had arrived escorting a smartly dressed elderly woman on his arm. He began to fuss over her.
“I see you put on your royal attire today. Purple is the color of royalty, you know. Your purple blouse is lovely.”
She smiled but didn’t say anything in return. He moved a piece of hair out of her face. “There, there, now you just look so great today!”

With every phrase and movement he demonstrated upmost respect and care, with a slightly light-hearted flair. She then began to question him as to why they were there.

“What do they do to you at this place?”

“This is the dentist office. They clean your teeth,” he replied.

“My teeth?” She looked bewildered at the thought that someone would need to clean her teeth.

Yes, they clean your teeth and take good care of your pretty smile here.”

She still must have looked unsure (I was still staring at my one sentence) because he continued to re-assure her, “These are my friends. I trust them. They’ll take good care of you here.”

That seemed to satisfy her and she settled down in her chair comfortably.

I wondered how he knew her – if he was a friend just running her on her errands, or if he was a family member assisting in her care. The ease of their relationship showed that even with her failing memory, she knew enough about him to know she could trust him. It was a scene that become more beautiful in the coming moments.

A young man walked in, and the gentleman in his fifties jumped to his feet, recognizing a friend. He then introduced the elderly woman as his mother-in-law. My heart melted. The woman then informed the young man that her son-in-law had just been entertaining them at home with all his funny stories. The son-in-law teasingly replied, “Now, mother, what happens at home must stay at home!”

I assumed that he and his wife took full care of their mother and that they did it with love and respect. Not an ounce in his being displayed a hint of frustration, exhaustion or burden. Caring for this woman who had raised his wife was his pleasure. An outing with her to the dentist was and adventure to be enjoyed. I could only imagine how well he treated his wife is this was how he treated her mother.

My glimpse of human beauty was further opened when a boisterous man in his seventies then joined our cast in the waiting room. He walked in wearing a light purple sport coat over a high-collared white dress shirt with a purple rhinestone fastening the neck closed. Navy dress slacks completed his spring ensemble. His personality was as colorful as his coat. He greeted the room with a hearty “Afternoon everyone!” I apparently was so engrossed in pretending to read that same sentence, that I forgot to return his greeting. Soon, right behind my ear I heard, “You there young lady in the chair.”

Since I was the only “young” lady in the room I knew I’d been had. I raised my head and eyebrows and looked at him with wide yes. He read my expression and answered, “Yes, you! You didn’t reply!”

“Oh! Um, yes sir! Sorry! Good afternoon to you!”

“There, that’s much better.”

Satisfied, he shuffled on to work his way around the room. Something about his mannerism and demeanor made me think he was a preacher. Not a pastor. There is a difference. I somehow knew that if he was a man of the cloth, he was “Reverend Last Name,” and not “Pastor First Name.” I say that with great respect. I grew up under a Reverend Last Name. This man seemed to fit the bill.

The staff returned from their lunch and the Reverend continued his hearty hellos. They all expressed pleasure to see him again. The receptionist told him he was “as pretty as an easter egg” in his purple coat. He got quite the pleasure out of the compliment.

Soon my name was called, and I was sad to exit the show stage left. I was still processing the events of the past few minutes when I sat down in the office to discuss my dental history. As if knowing it was impossible to ignore, the receptionist began to give me some history on the Reverend.

“That dear gentleman is a preacher.” (I knew it, she used the word preacher!) “He’s had a hard life, but he has handled it so well. He never has an appointment. He just shows up, and we always figure out a way to work him in.” She said the whole thing with a genuine smile and without the slightest hint of annoyance. She was sincerely happy to see him show up again.

Before she said another word, or anyone took a look at my teeth, or explained their high tech procedures, before they offered me a warm neck wrap or lemon-scented towel to help me relax, before I learned the dentist was a fellow Ohioan or received a hand-writen follow-up note from the tech, I had made up my mind. This would be my dental home.

Before I had analyzed their practice of dentistry, I had seen how they treat their patients – the ones who throw a wrench in the schedule, the ones who to some might be seen as an obnoxious intrusion, who some might remind once again that you need to have an appointment first. They saw him as a human, with a history and a heart. They saw him not just with dental needs, but with personal needs as well. This was the kind of office that a son-in-law would trust with his failing mother-in-law, that he could assure her even when she didn’t understand, that she could trust these people, because he trusted them.
In fifteen minutes, in the most unlikely of places, I’d seen a glimpse of heaven – people treating each other not as burdens they carried around, but as people to love and care for, as people made in the image of God with great worth and value – even when they can’t remember what a dentist does, or step outside the social norms.

Whether this case of characters knew it or not, they displayed the aspects of humility that Paul encourages those who follow Jesus to display:

“Do nothing out of selfishness or vain conceit, but in humility, consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look out only to your own interest, but also to the interests of others.” Philippians 2:3-4

That’s a community I want to be part of whenever I can – even if it’s only twice a year when I get my teeth cleaned.

Spring’s Arrival

We woke up this morning, and it seemed that overnight the trees have all bloomed. As I headed to the eye doctor (AGAIN), I wanted to get out every block and take pictures. After living in Florida for nearly 6 years, I don’t think I will ever take for granted the beauty of spring and fall. These transitional seasons are so short, but packed with beauty. I’m afraid to blink in fear I’ll miss something.

Last year this time, I posted Spring Reawakening, and I found my words just as true this year as we still wait (sometimes) patiently for the conclusion of our own transition period. Last week was a long, dreary, cold week. The blooms today were a vibrant reminder that rain is necessary to bring new life from the dormant ground. The storms refresh the earth bringing vital nutritents as God works to make all things new again. And so, for one more spring – I stand in the rain, accepting that this transition period has been good for my growth. It’s been vital for the lessons I have learned – in patience and faith and fortitude and simplicity. God is bringing new life from my dormant soul.

The parenting moments we live for

There are a few moments in parenting time that seems to stand still. It’s like I’m watching things in slow motion, trying to soak up every moment thinking, “THIS is what I’ve been waiting for.” It’s occurred a few times – like when Little Miss had some dental work done and didn’t fuss or shed a single tear. Then there was the morning that hubby and I slept in and when we got up, both kids were fully dressed and playing quietly in their room. Sweet bliss!!

This evening was one of those times where I stepped back and was amazed. Our children go from infants needing help for absolutely everything, to children who can think and reason and carry on deep conversations with ease in a short number of years. We had taken the kids to see their Papa do a magic show at a local church tonight. During the program he had presented the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. We’ve been talking about that in our home for a few weeks as we have studied it in our Bible study and at church. Tonight, Little Miss was rehearsing the story back to us, and then asked how people know about Jesus. So we were explaining how the disciples, with God’s direction, wrote the story of Jesus in the Bible so we could read it and how people just keep telling people who keep telling people. She then asked if she could tell people. “Absolutely, honey! You definitely can tell people about Jesus.” She replied with, “Let’s practice. You pretend you’re the kid and I’ll be the mom.”

And so I started asking questions. Who was Jesus, where did He come from, what is sin, why does it matter if I sin, does God care if I sin? What happened when Jesus died? Where is He now? Wow, did she answer. As we kept going, I decided not to hold back and really grill her, complete with questions about the trinity. I was amazed how with simple, yet profound, child-faith she was never rattled, and answered everything so sincerely. And if she didn’t know the answer she’d say, “I don’t know, sweetie. I haven’t read that chapter in the Bible yet!”

My heart swelled and I thanked God for His presence in her life and for her sincere love for Him. I prayed that this love for Him will continue her whole life and that she’d be able to share His love with others as naturally as she breathes – that He would be so much a part of her that His love seeps out of her gracefully and continually. This love and faith is what we prayed for since before her birth. I know the road isn’t guaranteed to be easy. It never is, and Jesus didn’t promise that. But He did promise His presence and His help. And that is what I pray she will recognize her whole life.

** I really have to thank the leaders at Bible Study Fellowship. Over the past 2 years, they have partnered with us as parents in teaching God’s Word to our kids. This year we have all studied the book of John, and I can never begin to express how deep the kids program goes. Those teachers love the kids and pray for them every week. And it shows. I’ve volunteered a couple times and have been so blessed and amazed to see even 18-month-old children sit still for a short story about Jesus from the Bible, and their eagerness to touch the Bible and hear God’s true words. Bible Study Fellowship has groups across the globe, and their programs are for men, women, and children starting at 2 weeks old through high school. Everyone studies the same passage – so your entire family can be studying the same lessons each week. That makes it so much easier to have conversations day in and day out with your kids because you KNOW what they are being taught and you’ve studied it yourself as well. So, thank you dear leaders and volunteers who give each week to my kids. We are blessed by your gift of love.

The Home Stretch

Last fall when I ran my first half marathon, I felt GREAT until mile 11. Something weird hit me at mile 11 that I had never experienced in any of my training. A wave of emotion came over me head to toe, and I suddenly became very nervous and fearful that I wouldn’t finish. My right leg started to slightly cramp, and I knew that if I stopped moving, I would never be able to start again. The crowd was getting thicker, I could hear the noise at the finish line and as the excitement swelled, so did my anxiety. It was the most unusual sensation I’ve ever experienced, and it took every ounce of physical and mental strength within me to finish the last 2 miles. I crossed the finish line and veered for the grass, not even finishing the congratulations line to get my medal (I later went back for it – I earned that puppy, yeah!)

That same feeling has overcome me in the past couple weeks in regards to the final stretch of our move back to Michigan. It’s been a year already, and we have three more months until our home is finished and we will once again box up all the things we  hold dear and necessary for daily life, load it into yet another truck, and haul it 30 miles closer to the city. We will finally start our new life together in our new community, so much closer to church and work, and well, civilization in general. As I see the progress on the house and imagine the finish product, as I see our neighbors moving into their new homes, this same overwhelming emotion consumes me, and I find this irrational fear choking me. It’s taking every ounce of mental and spiritual energy I have to stay focused and calm. It’s like I can see the finish line, I can see the prize and I’m afraid it will be yanked away in front of my very eyes, as if the whole transition has just been a tease in order to let me down.

To top things off, at the same time this crazy, foundationless emotion hit, so did real-life junk. Big junk. Like bad taxes and car engines dying. Weird stuff that is usually pretty rare. Tonight at dinner, I confessed to my husband that I’m discouraged and distracted. If I focus on the numbers, all I can see is how terribly costly this past year has been for us. I mean hello – Florida doesn’t have any state income tax! And that’s just the start of what all I could list.

Then my dear, steady husband reminded me that it’s all a matter of perspective. I can focus on the costs, or I can focus on how God has provided and met each need. One reason of many why I love that man – he knows how to keep me on track – not an easy task! I pondered his words on the way home and had to concede that God’s economy isn’t made of dollars and cents. It’s made up of faith and love and how I respond to the people and events that happen in my life – including those that cost dollars and dollars and dollars.

So, I said outloud – “Satan, you’re not gonna get me. Not this time. I know your tricks. It aint gonna work this time.” And I started to thank God for His faithfulness over the years, and give my new house back to Him, and the cars, and the finances, and ask Him to help me be faithful. I’m sure I’ll go through the process of turning everything over again tomorrow. And the next day. Crazy thing about that homestretch emotion – it likes to tag along until the finish line, creating a big drag resistance. But I’ll keep on running. I know what and Who is waiting for me.

The Year of the Impossible

I’ve been thinking about the past year. It’s been a wild ride. And when I think about that wild ride, I see one definite theme – the impossible becoming possible. I can’t help but think of the Bible verse “With God all things are possible.”

A year ago this time, The Narrator and I were sitting in our Florida home, with the heavy realization that we needed to move back to Michigan to be closer to family. The timing was terrible. The economy was (still is) nasty and Michigan is the worst of the worst. The latest statistics are 15% unemployment in Michigan. Get a job in Michigan? Impossible. People told us so. Get a job in Michigan while living in Florida? Impossible. And then WHAT IF he did so happen to get a job in Michigan? Sell our house in Florida? Impossible. Lots of people told us so.

We stepped out in faith and figured if God was in this, He’d help things happen. That was December 2008. A job application went to Michigan. He heard back right away. Got the job in Michigan in January. Started in February while still living in Florida. House for sale in February, moved in with the in-laws in Michigan the end of March. House sold in September. Possible. All of it. And not because of anything we did. It wasn’t (still isn’t) easy. A lot of things didn’t happen the way I thought they would, but it still happened and was good, nonetheless.

So here I sit in early December, and the grass is still green, the sun is shining brightly, and we haven’t seen a bit of snow yet. If you know anything about Michigan – green grass, sunshine and no snow in DECEMBER, that’s impossible. Yet it happened. I see this gorgeous December weather as a blessing from God. Until we purchase a home of our own, The Narrator has a nasty, nasty 45-minute 30-mile-one-way commute through country roads that don’t get the best plowing in the county. The drive is hard enough without the snow. With God, all things are possible. And I don’t take that for granted.

So I pulled the kids around the yard in the wagon, on December 1, soaking up the last hour of sunshine for the day,  and smiled at the fact that we were only wearing sweaters and sweatshirts. Thank you, God for all the impossible things of 2009.

What impossible things have been possible for you this year?

What we’re doing for Advent

Little Miss's drawing for day 1. Joseph, Mary and the winding road to the Big City (the purple spot).

Every year since I’ve become a mother, I’ve wanted to start some sort of advent tradition to help prepare the kids to celebrate Jesus. Every year, December has caught me off guard and I haven’t gotten my act together.

For the past few years, I’ve followed my friend Jenna‘s ADVENTures on her blog. She and her husband use this resource – it’s a site that has the Christmas story broken into 24 statements. She cuts them apart and puts each piece of the story into their advent boxes. Then each day they read that day’s statement and the kids draw a picture representing that part of the story and they hang the artwork on the wall.

I didn’t have an advent calendar. And we’re still living with my in-laws and there isn’t a lot of spare wall space. And then Little Miss gave me an idea today. She wanted to make books. Bing! Like a lightbulb went on – I grabbed 7 pieces of white paper and stapled them together (with green staples my mother-in-law had no less!) and made 2 books. I wrote on the front “The Christmas Story 2009, Drawn by :_________” Then I cut the story apart and put one statement on each page. For the next 24 days, each kid will make their own Christmas book, drawing the Nativity Story as we talk about each piece of the Great Story. On Christmas morning, we’ll read their completed Christmas storybook. I’m very excited! I can’t wait to put their finished books in their keepsake boxes to give them when they are older.  Day 1 was a hit, and they are looking forward to doing this each evening after dinner.

Thanks for the great idea Jenna!

I’d love to hear if you have any traditions for the weeks leading up to Christmas. And if you don’t have any traditions yet, this is a very easy one to put together, even if you get started a day or two late. We had a very meaningful discussion tonight with the kids as they drew this first part of the story.