My Father's Daughter

While going through my mountain of books, I found a journal entry written on the flyleaf of a Bible study I was doing. I didn't date it for some reason, but I know it was several years ago. At any rate this is what I wrote:

Some days I come to my Father as an innocent, carefree child; hugging, laughing, singing--resting.

Some days I am the disgruntled toddler who is tired and wants her own way, even though I know its not what is best and I am not going to get anyway.

Some days I am the child who adores, believes and trusts anything the Father has to say. I will do anything He asks and it is enough reward to just be close to Him.

Some days I'm the adolescent daughter who is so wrapped up in friends and things, I only have time to give my Father a quick hug and smile. I tell Him where I am off to, not waiting for His approval because I fear He may not approve and will spoil my fun.

Some days I'm the young woman standing on the edge of a dream, praying the Father will give His blessing; knowing I'll be crushed if He doesn't, but willing to risk the dream because I know He is all wise.

Some days I'm the grown-up daughter who takes time to share in the deeper knowledge of Him; to learn and understand the voice I recognize as wonderful.

Some days I am an elder daughter who just wants to rest in His presence from the cares and duties of the day.

Which ever daughter I am today, I know the Father is always the same. I am always welcome. He loves me as He finds me, and if I am willing, He changes me.

It's funny, I don't even remember jotting these words down, but they still strike a note of truth in my heart after all these years. I am my Father's daughter!

Kristen My Joy

A rainy Sunday afternoon is to be savored like an expensive bottle of wine--not that I've ever had an expensive bottle of wine, but I can imagine. that is why I am sitting here at my computer instead of snoozing in my oh-so-comfy-bed. My mind is still littered with wedding images reminiscent of the way wedding "leftovers" litter my whole house. Maybe if I write them out I will be able to move on and quit succumbing to the weepiness that threatens to overcome me whenever I think about Kristen's and Josh's beautiful moment.

The preparations were totally exhausting for everyone and we were all alternately short tempered and loving. We just never knew what to expect from the other person or ourselves. And as I sat on the front row, on the left, I found myself totally in denial as I watched my two beautiful daughters, Jolene and Rosie walk down the aisle looking like Greek goddesses along with Tori and Malinda. And then at the back door, standing with her father, was my lovely Kristen. I had told Masha, after going to several dress fittings, Kristen looked even more beautiful in her gown than Audrey Hepburn ever looked and it proved to be even more true at that moment. I can't remember if she even glanced my way--I think not--she only had eyes for the young man who had captured her heart months ago, and I kept telling myself, "This is it, this is it, the moment we've all been working toward," and I suddenly felt a great sadness. I leaned toward Tom and whispered, "This makes my heart hurt," because I actually felt a physical sort of tearing taking place in my chest. He looked at me with a look that made me know he hadn't understood what I had said, and I couldn't say it again without sobbing, so I let it go. And somehow I knew he was dealing with a ripping in his own soul.

Joy and pain are often so closely related that we cannot separate them. It is like the bone and marrow talked about in Scripture which can only be divided by a Divine sword. They mingle and separate alternately leaving us exhausted and wondering which way is up. A birth of a child is a messy pain-filled joy, the mournful relief of the home going of an elderly parent puts us in a tail spin, and the marriage of a beloved daughter brings gladness as well as sorrow to our hearts. But we know we would never change a moment. The joy will slowly overtake the sorrow and I will bring my basket-case emotions back to center and life will begin a new normal for all of us...until the next lovely bride stands at the back door (Jolene), and the roller coaster ride begins again!

Prima Donna

Yesterday I opted for some "free time." I played a couple of games on my computer (Scrabble is addicting and I don't think I'm getting any better at it), spent some time arguing with TJ, and the dog and the cats. I ignored the dishes, the laundry and even the book I'm currently reading. Today, that "free time" is costing me! I feel pressured to hurry and get stuff done before I can spend time with my little sweetie, Julian. ARGH! I hate it when I do that! Even knowing I have limited time to get all YESTERDAY's stuff done, here I sit, tip-tip-tapping away at my computer. What is it that drives me to laziness?

As I sat and contemplated this in my pajamas this morning, I came to the conclusion that it's my mother's fault. She never explained to me that when she called me a "Prima Donna" she was being sarcastic...I believed her! Thanks Mom!

We began a new Ladies Bible Study last night at church. The topic was my choosing, "The Intentional Woman." Thank goodness my friends Barbara and Marian are teaching. They are VERY together women. Not of the "Prima Donna" ilk at all! During the overview of the study I was so convicted I raced home and did a load of laundry! Carrumba! It's going to be a long summer.

The following is a verse we talked about last night:

With this in mind, we constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith. We pray this so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ." 2 Thessalonians 1:11 & 12 (NAS)

It's a good thing we are not saved by our works, I'd be in BAD shape. But our acts (laundry) prompted by our faith (God will give me strength to stay on task) will bring glory to Jesus, and I will reap the glorious results as well. Among them will be guilt free time with my little J. as well as a moment or two to be a "Prima Donna!"

Memorial Day Weekend

Memorial weekend is always a nice break. I usually plant my flowerbeds and spend some time remembering. After all, isn't that what Memorial Day is all about? I'll probably make a trip to the cemetery with my sisters and leave flowers for mom and dad. We always leave one for Joo Bong Lee since no one leaves him flowers. That tradition was actually started by my brother David, who has since died. I try to make sure that my friend Harriet, also has flowers on her grave. It's too sad for someone who gave so much to others to not have flowers once in awhile.

Tom and TJ are out working in the yard right now. The skies are clouding up and they are trying to beat the rain. They are working well together, which isn't always the case with fathers and sons, and I am thankful. This is the result of TJ becoming more manly in both body and attitude. As we were driving the other day he shared a revelation with me. "Mom," he said, I have just realized that I have grown stronger than dad. I'm no longer the little boy and he, the super hero. Now I will become his hero." By hero, I understood TJ to mean the holder and fulfiller of his father's hopes and dreams. Of course tears immediately rushed to my eyes and a huge lump came to my throat. What we as parents leave undone, or unfinished quite often falls to our children. If we have been faithful and God has blessed us, the burden they pick up for us will be godly and at times joyous. I pray this is so for my strong son.

The culmination of Memorial weekend will be a barbecue with my family. I wish my extended family were closer so we could break a hot dog bun together, but I will think of them and maybe even give them a call so we can remember together.

HAPPY MEMORIAL WEEKEND!

The Day After Easter

There is a perfect way to boil Easter eggs. No joke! I learned it from Martha Stewart. You put them in a pan, cover them with cold water, bring them to a boil, turn the heat off, cover it with a lid and let them rest for 11 minutes. Viola! Perfectly boiled Easter eggs! Of course you have to take the time to dye them and decorate them. I used to dread that part of Easter when my kids were little. The messy dye, the fragile eggs, the clean up afterwards. This year I did it alone. No mess, no broken eggs, no fun! Now I can’t even get the kids to eat them. What happened?

This is the first year since we’ve had children that I didn’t do Easter baskets. I did one communal basket and put unopened bags of candy in it. That was it. I bought one little Beanie Baby for my grandson and called it good. It didn’t help that Wal-Mart was in the middle of expanding and I walked around for twenty minutes without finding a single thing to buy. Fred Meyer wasn’t much better. They are redoing their floors and nothing is where it belongs! I can get that at home! I didn’t even buy a new dress, hat, shoes or even gloves. Where is the Easter Spirit?

Well, it could be in my perfectly cooked ham (Martha didn’t teach me that, it’s been trial and error), the sunshiny mandarin orange and pineapple fruit salad or the lovely tulips Jolene brought home. But somehow I think it would all just be empty celebrating of spring without being able to respond, “Indeed, He is risen,” to my sister’s cheery greeting of, “He is Risen!” Somehow between December 25th and April 12th, the “Sweet Little Jesus, Boy” became the “Lamb that was slain” and then the “Risen Messiah.” It’s like the old song says about love and marriage, you can’t have one without the other. The babe in the stable would have been just another poor baby if he hadn’t become a sacrificial Lamb, the slain Lamb would have become just another sad story without the resurrection. Somehow this realization puts perfectly boiled eggs and baskets filled with candy and bunnies back into perspective.

So, on this snowy Monday, I will clean the snow off my car, head out to work and rejoice knowing, “He is Risen!”

A Day At Home

The coffee pot was empty again! Three times this morning I went to get a cup of fresh coffee and it was just dregs! My children are becoming what Kristen put so eloquently, coffeepot heads. But now they are all gone to work and school and the only one left is Rosie and she doesn’t drink coffee. So I will enjoy my bubbling, gurgling, steaming cup of fresh brewed coffee ALL BY MYSELF!

I have tulips on my table. They are so lovely! It’s amazing how the rest of the house can be a total clutter catastrophe and a little beauty will capture my attention and make me less frustrated. They speak of warmer days to come and lend me a little natural color to off set the bleak white and gray of snow and ash.

I’m home today and it’s a good day to be home. The wind is blowing and the sky is cloudy and looking like more snow. It’s too cold for an April Shower so holing up with a book is a blessing. On days when I can stay in my house for a full day without even checking the mail I am at my best! I exercised, ate raisin bran cereal, and now I’m sitting in my mismatched grubbies emptying my brain onto a paper that doesn’t really exist. I’m looking forward to an afternoon with Julian and the evening being relaxed. Yes, Thursdays are usually my favorite.

I’m always glad when the month of March is over. It’s usually the cruel month with the come-hither sunshine that lures you into sweaters and jackets, then zaps you with cold breezes and unexpected rain or snow, and this year, ash. But as the snow begins to fall outside my window, I realize that April doesn’t know that it’s her turn to shine. Of course it’s only day two of the month, but we’ve been waiting a long time! Wake up, April!

On Purpose!

I was doing a Bible study not too long ago and the question was asked: "As a child, what were your feelings when you were in the presence of your sisters? Brothers?" Well, ignored was the answer for the sisters, but for the brothers portion my immediate response was PAIN! It seemed it was my brothers’ sole intent to torture me. There was the Indian rope burn and Chinese water torture, elbow jabbing, wet willies, knuckle haircuts and a myriad of other such imaginative teasing. Of course my one defense was tattling. And I must admit I was very good at it. It went something like this:

Me: Mom, Bobby pulled my hair and Kenny laughed at me!
Bobby: Did not! She’s just a baby! Besides, it was an accident!
Me: Huh uh! He did it on PURPOSE!

There was an art in convincing the judge, my mother, that the personal assault on my hair was a first-degree offence. If it were so deemed a first-degree offense, on purpose, then my brother’s would be sentenced to their rooms for an hour or possibly sent to sweep the driveway. And I, smug in my victory, would receive my mother’s solid whap on my backside as I made an ugly face at their retreating backs!

At that tender age, I doubt I had a true understanding of the term "on purpose," or with intent.
Intent or intention: An aim that guides action; an objective; simply signifies a course of action that one proposes to follow: what one plans to do or achieve; implies deliberateness: idea of resolution or determination: an idealistic or long-term purpose; often implies that the end or goal can be reached.

The new buzz word it seems is "intentional." I'm seeing it in Bible studies, self-help books, radio broadcasts and TV talk shows. I wonder if Someone is trying to tell me something. I do have that way of living everyday life with the shotgun method. This method usually consists of trying to make a small dent in everything that crosses my path. Needless to say, it is a very inefficient way of living! So, for the next few weeks, I'm going to try to be more intentsional about the way I do housework, diet, work, and most of all, live for Christ. This may consist of lists (haven't decided yet), a daily planner, keeping my cell phone charged and my Through the Bible in a Year Bible handy.

I'd love to hear how all of you (all 3 of my readers) do things intentionally. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from each other...on purpose!