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.
Filed under Funnies, faith in action | Tags: cooking, faith, peaches | Comment (0)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
Filed under Little Miss Sunshine, faith in action, million dollar moments, motherhood | Tags: faith, family, kids, million dollar moment | Comment (0)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.
Filed under faith in action | Tags: community, dentist, faith | Comments (3)Lessons from the library
I have a pretty good memory, especially when it comes to names and facts about people. I love stories, and each person has a story, and God has apparently given me a brain that is as sticky as fly tape when it comes to remembering people and their stories. Once I’ve met you, you’re never getting out of my head. Even with the onslaught of mommy brain, which is in fact a very real phenomenon, I’ve retained a good chunk of that story memory. As I mentioned in Lessons from the Playground, I’m attempting to regain some of my awareness for the people around me. And this is another case in point.
Because of this memory, there are many times when I am out and about that I recognize people I’ve met, albeit even just once. During these occasions, I have a fleeting few seconds to act, because I know for certain that the other person won’t recognize me or remember me unless I approach her and re-introduce myself. And herein lies my choice. I can ignore her and move on, or I can speak up. Obviously the loving option is to speak up and show that person that I cared enough about her to not only remember, but to let her know I remember her. It’s not always easy, especially with two toddlers in two, to give someone who at first glance thinks I am a stranger a brief story to re-introduce myself. While I was at the library this week, I noticed a girl that I hadn’t seen in three years. We were in a small group together very briefly, before either of us had kids. I stepped up and said, “You are J, right? I’m storygirl. We were in V’s group together briefly waaaay back.” The lights clicked on and we chatted for a few minutes. Her little gal is close to Little Miss’s age and she looked at me and said, “So you stay home, and I stay home…why don’t we get together?” Love, love it. If the weather is decent tomorrow, meaning it’s not raining like it did all day today, we’re going to the same playground I mentioned in the previous “Lessons from” and I’ll give that gal a call too. What a joy it was to speak up and re-connect. Now, next week at the Library story time, I need to catch the other gal I recognize that I met just once at a retreat. I pretty sure she doesn’t know that she goes to the same church as the gal I chatted with this week. Hmmm….
Filed under faith in action | Tags: community, faith, mommy brain, re-connect | Comments (2)Women of Faith
I enjoyed my first Women of Faith experience. It wasn’t quite what I expected, but I guess I’m not sure what I expected. So I’m not sure how to recap it for you. In fact, I started to and realized it was way too boring. I expected more Bible teaching ala Beth Moore or Kay Arthur style. All of the speakers were phenomenal and told fabulous stories. I didn’t have any “aha” moments or really perceive anything too deep into my life, but I guess that’s not where I’m at right now. Really, I just needed a breather and a good laugh, which Anita Renfroe so willingly provided. That lady is just way too funny. If you haven’t seen her Mom Sense video on You Tube, Go. Right now. Watch it. You can find it by searching her name on You Tube. She’s geniously funny. The surprise for me was how much I enjoyed hearing Sandi Patty sing and lead worship. That lady can sing. I want to sing like her in heaven. Wow. And I’d like jeans like Nicole C. Mullen had. But I’d like those down here, not in heaven. Although if we can wear jeans in heaven, I’d take a pair with fringe on the bottom and bedazzled up the leg. But I’m pretty sure I could make a pair of my own down here. Not sure I can manage to get her toned arms though. That lady is super woman if there ever was one. She can sing, play the keys and guitar, dance, mom to 4 kids and be amazingly tone. Yeah. And Max Lucado is probably one of the kindest most compassionate men you will ever meet. I didn’t meet him, but judging his demeanor on the big screen, he’s a pretty loving man.
And that’s about all I have to say for the actual conference. I laughed. I cried. I wondered why in the world I’d need a Women of Faith manicure set or credit card, but that’s a different thought on commercialization. Like I said, I’ll go again next year, and I’ll be looking for a few books the speakers have written. Not that I’ll actually finish them. I don’t think I have read a complete book since I had kids. I keep trying. Maybe in 2008!!
Filed under Story Girl | Tags: conferences, faith, max lucado, nicole c. mullen, reading, sandi patty, women of faith | Comment (0)