Four months ago, we made a big change in our household: we kicked our addiction to drugs out the door. No, not the illicit kind. We haven't been smoking pot or crack, and the only coke in our house comes in a red can (and yes, I know, I should kick that too). The drugs we were addicted to were the ones on the counter: the cough syrups, ibuprofen, naproxen, and loads and loads of sinus and allergy medications that were taking over our space. It was a radical change, but one that has made an incredible difference in our lifestyle and our dialogue around home.
It all started with my freaky friend Melissa (who gets the nickname only because I love her so dearly she merits getting a nickname) who has been using homepoathic treatments in her family forever and had been trying to get me to do the same. If you know me at all, you know that I do NOT go with the flow. I am not a follower, and I am not going to try something just because you say it works. I have to see it to believe it. And I've done just that.
In September, we made a trip back to our beloved Pensacola and stayed with Melissa. My five year old, Sean, had had a cough for months that we were treating with a honey cough syrup but that just would not go away. Melissa used one of her natural essential oils on him, a blend called RC, and it worked! He stopped coughing. So I decided, upon her suggestion, to try using lavender oil for my allergies. Understand... you say plant, and I start to sneeze and my eyes start to water. I have taken just about every prescription known to man and almost every OTC sinus medication as well. Some worked, some didn't. Some worked but left me feeling too groggy to accomplish anything. I began using the lavender and noticed an immediate change - not just in my allergy symptoms, but also with the headaches that I had been having all of the time. I have gone from taking allergy medicine two or three times a day to not taking it at all. I have not had one pill since the day I started using the lavender.
Western medicine has its place. I am not going into surgery without it. And sometimes we do have infections and such that need an antibiotic. But how many times are we pumping ourselves with synthetic substances that are not truly making us well? They are just masking our symptoms and often making us dependent on the drugs.
So, I've fallen. Hook... line... sinker. I am a convert. So much so, that I am not only now using sixteen different oils, but I am also working as an independent consultant for Young Living, a company that prides itself in using the highest quality plants and processes to extract the purest oils to promote healthy living. These are the substances that were used in Biblical times when ancient doctors couldn't give you a prescription for Zyrtec or hydrocodone but could use the natural substances that God created for healing. In his creation, God gave us EVERYTHING we need for life -- that includes the plants and fruits that we can use to stay healthy.
I guess I have even become "freaky" myself. I've begun to introduce Young Living products to the people around me. I have a dear friend with asthma that was out of options medicinally. I gave her RC and she is chugging through this winter healthier than she has been in years. She's beginning to stock up her cabinet with essential oils -- though she tells people that I've given her snake oil. I deserve it... it's tit for tat for calling Melissa freaky for so long. You know, what goes around comes around.
In any case, the dialogue in our family has changed radically.
Have a headache? Grab some peppermint.
Muscles cramping after a hard day at work? Grab some marjoram.
Shouldn't have eaten that fried food? Grab the peppermint (again).
Want to play outside but not WITH the bugs? Rub on some citronella.
Stressed out? Love the lavender.
Want the kids to calm down? Grab the cedarwood. (Except with my 3-year-old Abbie-- for whom this seems to have the REVERSE effect because she is a special, joyful child in her own right and must always go against the flow and do her own thing.)
The most signficant thing to me is that I am no longer putting crap in my kids' bodies to try to make them feel better. No more ingredients that I can't pronounce in our medication. We are using a dialogue that makes us feel better than we have in a long time and it's all natural.
And the cutest thing is anytime anyone complains about any hurt, ailment, etc., Abbie says, "You need mell-a-loo-ka."
If you're interested in changing your medical dialogue, check out Youngliving.com or contact me for more information. Here's hoping everyone can feel as great as we do!
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Contemplating Creation
Last week, we set out on our annual Mississippi Nailbenders mission trip. We traveled a little lighter this year allowing our older two to ride on the bus with the rest of the group while we tucked the three little ones into the backseat of my dad's car and set out on a road trip. And this indeed was a road trip. It was by far the longest drive I have ever made. Stephen, the "little kids," and I drove the first day to Stephen's mom's house in north Mississippi and then 12 hours the next day to destination Strasburg, Virginia.
I have traveled in the mountains before. I have thought that the mountains were very pretty. I have appreciated that God created the mountains. But the enormity of it all struck me this trip.
Early on Saturday, we drove through Huntsville, Alabama, and saw the rockets at the space center. Stephen commented about how amazing it is that man created something that could shoot into space, have half of it burn away, and another half that would later come back to earth. I agreed -- there were some people a lot smarter than me that put all that together.
We spent the whole day traveling through the mountains of north Alabama, Chattanooga, Gatlinburg, and into Virginia. At some point -- probably with our fiftieth comment or so on how beautiful each mountain was, I had a new awakening.
(between Strasburg, Virginia and Washington D.C.)
I have known the story of creation from Genesis forever. Certainly those stories were told to me as early as preschool days. And I've always thought, "Wow, that's neat. God created everything in six days." But think about what he really did.
As we drove over one particular hill, the sun shone on the tops of several other mountains, the clouds rested serenely on the tops, and the trees bathed the side in green. And I had an "ah-ha" moment. Stephen had commented on the rockets and how amazing it was that man had come up with that technology. And it is amazing. But how long did that take? At least several thousands of years after creation. But how long did it take God to create space and earth and everything within it? Six little days.
Six little days in which He spoke and things happened. "Let there be light" and this complex ball of burning gases took form in the sky to create the sun that gives us light and warmth. "Let there be water," and this complex system of freshwater and salt water combined and separated worldwide. "Let there be land," and in a moment a complex division of deserts and mountains and flat plains just appeared. "Let there be man." and a complex system of organs and blood circulation and communication to the whole body by one little brain just happened. It just happened because He spoke with His mighty voice and it was done.
The brilliant pinks and purples and oranges of a sunset, the gentle rolling of waves upon a beach, the endless stretch of dunes in the desert sand, the simplicity of a rainbow, the brilliant hues of autumn leaves, the tiny features on a newborn's face. It all was created by a spoken word.
We serve such a mighty God. I think about all the struggles and discomforts that I face and all the mole hills that I can turn into mountains, and I wonder, why don't I just turn all of that over to God. If He can create our whole existence with the beauty and complexities that He did, can He not handle all of the messes and ridiculousness that we create in our lives?
I walk away from this trip realzing that not only is His creation awesome and inspiring, it is a reminder that He is in control of everything.
I have traveled in the mountains before. I have thought that the mountains were very pretty. I have appreciated that God created the mountains. But the enormity of it all struck me this trip.
Early on Saturday, we drove through Huntsville, Alabama, and saw the rockets at the space center. Stephen commented about how amazing it is that man created something that could shoot into space, have half of it burn away, and another half that would later come back to earth. I agreed -- there were some people a lot smarter than me that put all that together.
We spent the whole day traveling through the mountains of north Alabama, Chattanooga, Gatlinburg, and into Virginia. At some point -- probably with our fiftieth comment or so on how beautiful each mountain was, I had a new awakening.
I have known the story of creation from Genesis forever. Certainly those stories were told to me as early as preschool days. And I've always thought, "Wow, that's neat. God created everything in six days." But think about what he really did.
As we drove over one particular hill, the sun shone on the tops of several other mountains, the clouds rested serenely on the tops, and the trees bathed the side in green. And I had an "ah-ha" moment. Stephen had commented on the rockets and how amazing it was that man had come up with that technology. And it is amazing. But how long did that take? At least several thousands of years after creation. But how long did it take God to create space and earth and everything within it? Six little days.
Six little days in which He spoke and things happened. "Let there be light" and this complex ball of burning gases took form in the sky to create the sun that gives us light and warmth. "Let there be water," and this complex system of freshwater and salt water combined and separated worldwide. "Let there be land," and in a moment a complex division of deserts and mountains and flat plains just appeared. "Let there be man." and a complex system of organs and blood circulation and communication to the whole body by one little brain just happened. It just happened because He spoke with His mighty voice and it was done.
The brilliant pinks and purples and oranges of a sunset, the gentle rolling of waves upon a beach, the endless stretch of dunes in the desert sand, the simplicity of a rainbow, the brilliant hues of autumn leaves, the tiny features on a newborn's face. It all was created by a spoken word.
We serve such a mighty God. I think about all the struggles and discomforts that I face and all the mole hills that I can turn into mountains, and I wonder, why don't I just turn all of that over to God. If He can create our whole existence with the beauty and complexities that He did, can He not handle all of the messes and ridiculousness that we create in our lives?
I walk away from this trip realzing that not only is His creation awesome and inspiring, it is a reminder that He is in control of everything.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Prayer
After a weeklong church building mission trip in Illinois, the little kids and I were following my dad Saturday night to drop off the bus that we had used from the trip. From the back seat of the van, Sean, who is 3, pipes up and asks me,
"Mom, what are those words that we say before we say Aaaa-men."
"A prayer," I ask.
"Yes, but what are the words?" he asked.
I proceeded to explain to him that we can say anything we want to God. Our prayers can be aloud or in our mind, and we can talk to God just as we talk to any person. He always hears us. Sean, the ever literalist, then began a monologue on the back seat.
"We're riding in the van. Aaaa-men."
"There are trees outside the window. Aaaa-men."
"My name is Sean. Aaaa-men."
It was so precious to see him take an interest in prayer, and to hear him question what prayer is all about. The awakenings of a ripened soul. I so hope that one day, I'll be with him when he says, "Jesus, forgive me and live in my heart. Aaaa-men."
I think so often I take prayer, and its power, for granted. We start out with our rote prayers of "Now I lay me down to sleep..." and "God is great, God is good." We call out the words though our childlike minds may not grasp the concept of an intangible God.
Then we move on to simple blessings and requests. I remember when my son Jared was about 5, we had to evacuate our home for Hurricane Dennis. My parents came to get us because I was very pregnant and could not drive, and my husband had to stay behind. I called home to see how preparations for the storm were going and related to my husband that Jared had prayed for all of his toys to be safe. It was such a simple, self-centered request -- typical of a five-year-old. It seemed at the time, that everything Jared said he had prayed for had come to pass, so Stephen put one of his toys in each room of the house so that Jared's request would not keep just his room and the playroom safe, but the entire house. And mercifully, the house was fine.
And then, as we grow in Christ, we begin to have deep conversations with him. I remember my pregnancies with my first two babies were filled with me talking to them conversing about what the world would be like and how I was excited for them to be born. But when my third, Emma, came along, I was fresh off two miscarriages and was told that there was something wrong with her. For a time, we did not know exactly what her problems would be, but we knew that things did not look right on her ultrasound. And then the doctors told me she would have Down's Syndrome. As I would rub my tummy and try to talk to her, I was incapable of carrying on my one-sided conversation. Instead, I would bathe her in prayer. I would beg and plead that God would make her well, that she would not have to suffer, and that she would have the chance to have a healthy life. In His mercy, she was born perfectly well.
All of my prayers have not been so amicably answered. There have been times when I have prayed for God's intervention only to find that God's solution and my solution were not the same. Not so long ago, I prayed that God would make changes in our family that would allow us to make family a priority and that would pull us together as a unit. Then He moved us from Florida back to my hometown in Mississippi. And I said, "Really, God? This is what you want?" I had to accept that this is the place He wants us in this season of our lives. I cannot say that I am overjoyed to be here (I miss my Floridian life), but there have been things that have happened, resolutions, healed relationships, understanding, and an end to long-held hostilities that have given me peace.
And really, I think that peace is the ultimate request that I can petition from God. I may not be in control of a situation (which is tough because I am a control freak) or be able to change any of the forces around me. But I can ask for peace. And amazingly (or not), when this is my petition, I can almost feel the peace run through my veins and my apprehension will go away. I have to be accepting to His will instead of my own plans. Interestingly enough, if many of my prayers had been answered "my way" with my self-centered intentions in place, things around me would be a hugomongous mess.
Last night, Stephen and I watched The Passion of Christ. I know the movie is several years old, but this was the first opportunity I have had to watch it. As I watched the portrayal of Jesus in Gethsemane praying, I was struck by the thought of how crucial prayer is. Even Jesus prayed. Why would any lowly, earthly being assume that we can make it through life without asking for God's blessings on the things we do. In Matthew 26:39, Jesus petitioned, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." His prayer was not answered with relief from His destiny. He had to be arrested; He had to be beaten; He had to be massacred on a cross like a common thief. It wasn't what His earthly body wanted, but praise God, He succumbed to God's will and endured that pain and torment that we may have everlasting life when we trust in Him.
"Be joyful always; pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." I Thessalonians 5:17
"Mom, what are those words that we say before we say Aaaa-men."
"A prayer," I ask.
"Yes, but what are the words?" he asked.
I proceeded to explain to him that we can say anything we want to God. Our prayers can be aloud or in our mind, and we can talk to God just as we talk to any person. He always hears us. Sean, the ever literalist, then began a monologue on the back seat.
"We're riding in the van. Aaaa-men."
"There are trees outside the window. Aaaa-men."
"My name is Sean. Aaaa-men."
It was so precious to see him take an interest in prayer, and to hear him question what prayer is all about. The awakenings of a ripened soul. I so hope that one day, I'll be with him when he says, "Jesus, forgive me and live in my heart. Aaaa-men."
I think so often I take prayer, and its power, for granted. We start out with our rote prayers of "Now I lay me down to sleep..." and "God is great, God is good." We call out the words though our childlike minds may not grasp the concept of an intangible God.
Then we move on to simple blessings and requests. I remember when my son Jared was about 5, we had to evacuate our home for Hurricane Dennis. My parents came to get us because I was very pregnant and could not drive, and my husband had to stay behind. I called home to see how preparations for the storm were going and related to my husband that Jared had prayed for all of his toys to be safe. It was such a simple, self-centered request -- typical of a five-year-old. It seemed at the time, that everything Jared said he had prayed for had come to pass, so Stephen put one of his toys in each room of the house so that Jared's request would not keep just his room and the playroom safe, but the entire house. And mercifully, the house was fine.
And then, as we grow in Christ, we begin to have deep conversations with him. I remember my pregnancies with my first two babies were filled with me talking to them conversing about what the world would be like and how I was excited for them to be born. But when my third, Emma, came along, I was fresh off two miscarriages and was told that there was something wrong with her. For a time, we did not know exactly what her problems would be, but we knew that things did not look right on her ultrasound. And then the doctors told me she would have Down's Syndrome. As I would rub my tummy and try to talk to her, I was incapable of carrying on my one-sided conversation. Instead, I would bathe her in prayer. I would beg and plead that God would make her well, that she would not have to suffer, and that she would have the chance to have a healthy life. In His mercy, she was born perfectly well.
All of my prayers have not been so amicably answered. There have been times when I have prayed for God's intervention only to find that God's solution and my solution were not the same. Not so long ago, I prayed that God would make changes in our family that would allow us to make family a priority and that would pull us together as a unit. Then He moved us from Florida back to my hometown in Mississippi. And I said, "Really, God? This is what you want?" I had to accept that this is the place He wants us in this season of our lives. I cannot say that I am overjoyed to be here (I miss my Floridian life), but there have been things that have happened, resolutions, healed relationships, understanding, and an end to long-held hostilities that have given me peace.
And really, I think that peace is the ultimate request that I can petition from God. I may not be in control of a situation (which is tough because I am a control freak) or be able to change any of the forces around me. But I can ask for peace. And amazingly (or not), when this is my petition, I can almost feel the peace run through my veins and my apprehension will go away. I have to be accepting to His will instead of my own plans. Interestingly enough, if many of my prayers had been answered "my way" with my self-centered intentions in place, things around me would be a hugomongous mess.
Last night, Stephen and I watched The Passion of Christ. I know the movie is several years old, but this was the first opportunity I have had to watch it. As I watched the portrayal of Jesus in Gethsemane praying, I was struck by the thought of how crucial prayer is. Even Jesus prayed. Why would any lowly, earthly being assume that we can make it through life without asking for God's blessings on the things we do. In Matthew 26:39, Jesus petitioned, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." His prayer was not answered with relief from His destiny. He had to be arrested; He had to be beaten; He had to be massacred on a cross like a common thief. It wasn't what His earthly body wanted, but praise God, He succumbed to God's will and endured that pain and torment that we may have everlasting life when we trust in Him.
"Be joyful always; pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." I Thessalonians 5:17
Friday, April 22, 2011
Dyeing Eggs
In my house, we don't believe in the Easter Bunny or Santa or the Tooth Fairy. But... we do try to let our kids experience all of the brou-ha-ha that goes along with holidays. I have fond memories of waking up really early to see what was in my stocking or basket, and one rather disturbing memory of my mom "flittering" into my room to replace a tooth with money. I want my kids to have these memories too. More importantly, I want to make sure they can make connections with the real meanings of the holidays we celebrate. (And yes, I realize there is not a Tooth Fairy holiday.)
So today, we set forth with plans of dyeing eggs. Sean, my 3-year-old was confused and asked this morning if it was time to kill the eggs. He heard us say "dye" and thought "die." Once we cleared that confusion, I set my two oldest on a mission -- with $5.00 in the mix. Whoever could write the best explanatory correlation between dyeing eggs and either becoming a Christian or Jesus's ressurection would win.
SPOILER -- Jared, my 10-year-old, is a spoil-sport, and never wrote anything down. Jayla, 12, won by default.
Even still, her explanations were pretty good and led to some really meaty discussion about Jesus's first coming, his resurrection, and (my favorite part) when he's coming back to get us. My sweet, sweet Emma was so excited when she could add details to our story of Jesus dying on the cross and not being in the tomb. The Lord is so ripening her precious heart.
Jayla came up with three basic connections:
1) Jesus died like an ordinary man just as ordinary eggs are white. But his ressurection was extraordinary like the beautiful eggs we end up with.
2) The egg resembles our heart -- blank and dull without Jesus; colorful and vibrant with Him.
3) We start out lost, but once we accept Jesus and are baptized, we are washed in his blood (the dye) to live anew.
$5.00 richer, Jayla and spoil-sport Jared helped their little sisters and brother dye their eggs. Their mission this year was to have no two eggs just alike, and so we mixed dye and changed the length of time each one soaked until we came up with 16 very special one-of-a-kind eggs.
I hope they'll remember this Easter with our egg dyeing (not killing, dear Sean), and egg hunting, and even some egg eating. But most of all, I hope they remember that Jesus died that we may all be forgiven for all of the shameful, dastardly things that we have done and live eternally with him as bright and vibrant as our Easter eggs. I hope, too, thay you realize Jesus died for YOU!
Happy Easter, my friends!
So today, we set forth with plans of dyeing eggs. Sean, my 3-year-old was confused and asked this morning if it was time to kill the eggs. He heard us say "dye" and thought "die." Once we cleared that confusion, I set my two oldest on a mission -- with $5.00 in the mix. Whoever could write the best explanatory correlation between dyeing eggs and either becoming a Christian or Jesus's ressurection would win.
SPOILER -- Jared, my 10-year-old, is a spoil-sport, and never wrote anything down. Jayla, 12, won by default.
Even still, her explanations were pretty good and led to some really meaty discussion about Jesus's first coming, his resurrection, and (my favorite part) when he's coming back to get us. My sweet, sweet Emma was so excited when she could add details to our story of Jesus dying on the cross and not being in the tomb. The Lord is so ripening her precious heart.
Jayla came up with three basic connections:
1) Jesus died like an ordinary man just as ordinary eggs are white. But his ressurection was extraordinary like the beautiful eggs we end up with.
2) The egg resembles our heart -- blank and dull without Jesus; colorful and vibrant with Him.
3) We start out lost, but once we accept Jesus and are baptized, we are washed in his blood (the dye) to live anew.
$5.00 richer, Jayla and spoil-sport Jared helped their little sisters and brother dye their eggs. Their mission this year was to have no two eggs just alike, and so we mixed dye and changed the length of time each one soaked until we came up with 16 very special one-of-a-kind eggs.
I hope they'll remember this Easter with our egg dyeing (not killing, dear Sean), and egg hunting, and even some egg eating. But most of all, I hope they remember that Jesus died that we may all be forgiven for all of the shameful, dastardly things that we have done and live eternally with him as bright and vibrant as our Easter eggs. I hope, too, thay you realize Jesus died for YOU!
Happy Easter, my friends!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Did Mary Know?
I had the privilege of growing up in a Christian family. I knew the story and songs about the virgin Mary wayyyyyyyy before I ever understood what a virgin even was. However, I think that I finally came to understand the depth of the birth of Jesus ten years ago when I gave birth to my first son. I went into his birth pretty cocky -- I had a 19 month old daughter and was doing well balancing work and raising her. I thought I had motherhood in the bag. Then in the delivery room during a quiet moment with my son, I realized that I had to not just raise him to be a decent person, but I had to help him become a man -- and this was a much more daunting task than raising a girl.
Then as I marveled over his tiny features and his headful of dark black hair, I begin to think of another baby boy. One who was born 2000 years before. And I thought of the Christmas carol, "Mary Did You Know?" Did she?
Think about it. Here's Mary, at probably 13 or 14, who gets approached by an angel (scary), is told that she is to have a baby -- before she's married to her betrothed (scarier -- in her society, she could have been stoned to death), and that this child would be the son of God (scariest). Wow! What an enormous privilege -- but what an overwhelming responsibility. I cannot imagine being faced with that enormity.
The privilege part is that she had the blessing of carrying the baby. She was the first to feel His tiny butterfly movements in her womb. She was the first to feel His kicks to her ribs and bladder as He grew. She was the one to feel the back pain and pangs of labor as He entered into the world in His human form. She was the one to nestle Him to her breast and kiss His sweet, soft brow. She was the one who was up with Him at 3 A.M. She was the one who saw His adorable first smiles, and tooth, and tottering steps. We are all blessed with raising children of God, but she birthed God's only begotten son. Was she not in awe at every move He made?
The Scripture tells us in Luke 1: 32 that Gabriel told Mary that the baby she carried would be, "great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end." Mary realized the honor in this calling. In verse 49 of Luke 1, she said, "for the Mighty One has done great things for me -- holy is his name."
But in that moment, did she realize that her son, begotten from the one and only true God, would be the Messiah? The carol lyrics questions rather Mary was aware of the miracles that Jesus would perform --giving sight to the blind, walking on water-- but it also asks if she knew that He had come to be a deliverer. And did she understand that this child was indeed the Messiah; could she have ever fathomed what He would truly endure to be that deliverer.
As she kissed His brow and wiped His cheek, did she know that one day He would be horribly ridiculed, arrested and beaten, and hanged from a cross to deliver the people of the world of their sins. I doubt that in her earthly mind, she could look at her newborn and know the entirety of the story or the importance that He held for eternity. But God did. He knew long before He ever allowed Jesus to become a seed in Mary's womb exactly what the end would be like. What a sacrifice! Do we truly comprehend and appreciate that?
I think not. I would not allow my son to die for the sins of anyone -- especially not the thieving, lying, murderous heathens of the world that I don't even know. But God in His awesomeness gave that to us. We are all His children and He loves each of us. Thankfully, because of God's sacrifice, my son doesn't even have to die for his own sins. He's accepted Jesus as his Savior. So when his time comes to leave this lowly life on earth, he will reign forever with the One who made it all possible.
I enter these last few days of preparation of our celebration of Jesus's birth in absolute awe. Please take a moment and think of the sacrifice that was made for you.
Then as I marveled over his tiny features and his headful of dark black hair, I begin to think of another baby boy. One who was born 2000 years before. And I thought of the Christmas carol, "Mary Did You Know?" Did she?
Think about it. Here's Mary, at probably 13 or 14, who gets approached by an angel (scary), is told that she is to have a baby -- before she's married to her betrothed (scarier -- in her society, she could have been stoned to death), and that this child would be the son of God (scariest). Wow! What an enormous privilege -- but what an overwhelming responsibility. I cannot imagine being faced with that enormity.
The privilege part is that she had the blessing of carrying the baby. She was the first to feel His tiny butterfly movements in her womb. She was the first to feel His kicks to her ribs and bladder as He grew. She was the one to feel the back pain and pangs of labor as He entered into the world in His human form. She was the one to nestle Him to her breast and kiss His sweet, soft brow. She was the one who was up with Him at 3 A.M. She was the one who saw His adorable first smiles, and tooth, and tottering steps. We are all blessed with raising children of God, but she birthed God's only begotten son. Was she not in awe at every move He made?
The Scripture tells us in Luke 1: 32 that Gabriel told Mary that the baby she carried would be, "great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end." Mary realized the honor in this calling. In verse 49 of Luke 1, she said, "for the Mighty One has done great things for me -- holy is his name."
But in that moment, did she realize that her son, begotten from the one and only true God, would be the Messiah? The carol lyrics questions rather Mary was aware of the miracles that Jesus would perform --giving sight to the blind, walking on water-- but it also asks if she knew that He had come to be a deliverer. And did she understand that this child was indeed the Messiah; could she have ever fathomed what He would truly endure to be that deliverer.
As she kissed His brow and wiped His cheek, did she know that one day He would be horribly ridiculed, arrested and beaten, and hanged from a cross to deliver the people of the world of their sins. I doubt that in her earthly mind, she could look at her newborn and know the entirety of the story or the importance that He held for eternity. But God did. He knew long before He ever allowed Jesus to become a seed in Mary's womb exactly what the end would be like. What a sacrifice! Do we truly comprehend and appreciate that?
I think not. I would not allow my son to die for the sins of anyone -- especially not the thieving, lying, murderous heathens of the world that I don't even know. But God in His awesomeness gave that to us. We are all His children and He loves each of us. Thankfully, because of God's sacrifice, my son doesn't even have to die for his own sins. He's accepted Jesus as his Savior. So when his time comes to leave this lowly life on earth, he will reign forever with the One who made it all possible.
I enter these last few days of preparation of our celebration of Jesus's birth in absolute awe. Please take a moment and think of the sacrifice that was made for you.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
What is the true meaning of Christmas?
In the December 2010 issue of Parents magazine, a question / answer block discussed a parent who was concerned about explaining that Santa is real without coming right out and lying to him. The answer was provided by Glen Eliot, M.D. Ph.D., who is the chief psychiatrist and medical director of Children's Health Council in Palo Alto, California. He stated that it was important for the son to understand that it's not Santa that Christmas is all about... "it's the qualities he represents -- such as caring and generosity." REALLY?
Disney's Family Fun Dec. 2010 / Jan. 2011 issue featured an article entitled, "Readers' Favorite Holiday Traditions" in which ten families shared their traditions for reconnecting with the true meaning of the holiday. These traditions range from decorating for the holidays, to helping those in need, to refocusing on family. One mom even commented that she and her husband started their tradition to help their family "focus on the true meaning of the season -- helping others." AMAZING.
While all of these traditions and focus on being nice and doing good are honorable, not once did either of these articles ever get close to the real meaning of Christmas. Christmas is not about caring or generosity, or decorating your yard and putting up a tree, or selecting just the right gift for each person. Sure, all of these activities are fun symbolic ways to mark the season, but the real meaning of Christmas is JESUS!!
Several years ago my dear friend Melissa wowed me by saying that she didn't have her children believe in Santa. My kids had always gotten up on Christmas morning to find brimming stockings and piles of toys under the tree, and my initial reaction, was wow! how sad that they would miss that. But then I thought about it. And then I talked to my husband about it. And we realized that Melissa was on quite the right track.
And so, as my oldest two didn't really believe in Santa anymore anyway, we decided it was a good time to segue into our family focusing on the real meaning of Christmas. My three little ones (well, okay two of them -- the baby is oblivious) know that Santa is a fun story, but he is not bringing them anything on Christmas.
The kids will still get up on Christmas morning and get stockings full of stuff and there is already a huge pile of presents under my tree. But their stockings are anchored around a small nativity. And on Christmas Eve instead of putting out cookies for the jolly old fake guy, we'll be making a birthday cake for the King of Kings. As each member of the family takes a turn at opening presents, we will reflect upon the Magi coming to a baby Jesus many years ago. We've already been having conversations about why Jesus was born, and what His birth, life, death, resurrection, and upcoming return means to us and for us. My five-year-old Emma especially is asking questions to piece it all together.
So while the tree with its colorful balls is pretty, and the packages are wrapped with bright, pretty paper. And we've watched Santa movies (The Polar Express is on at this moment.), thank goodness my family knows that the true meaning of Christmas is JESUS!!!!
"But the angel said to them," Do not be afraid, I bring you good news of great joy tht will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you, he is Christ the Lord."
Luke 2: 10-11
Disney's Family Fun Dec. 2010 / Jan. 2011 issue featured an article entitled, "Readers' Favorite Holiday Traditions" in which ten families shared their traditions for reconnecting with the true meaning of the holiday. These traditions range from decorating for the holidays, to helping those in need, to refocusing on family. One mom even commented that she and her husband started their tradition to help their family "focus on the true meaning of the season -- helping others." AMAZING.
While all of these traditions and focus on being nice and doing good are honorable, not once did either of these articles ever get close to the real meaning of Christmas. Christmas is not about caring or generosity, or decorating your yard and putting up a tree, or selecting just the right gift for each person. Sure, all of these activities are fun symbolic ways to mark the season, but the real meaning of Christmas is JESUS!!
Several years ago my dear friend Melissa wowed me by saying that she didn't have her children believe in Santa. My kids had always gotten up on Christmas morning to find brimming stockings and piles of toys under the tree, and my initial reaction, was wow! how sad that they would miss that. But then I thought about it. And then I talked to my husband about it. And we realized that Melissa was on quite the right track.
And so, as my oldest two didn't really believe in Santa anymore anyway, we decided it was a good time to segue into our family focusing on the real meaning of Christmas. My three little ones (well, okay two of them -- the baby is oblivious) know that Santa is a fun story, but he is not bringing them anything on Christmas.
The kids will still get up on Christmas morning and get stockings full of stuff and there is already a huge pile of presents under my tree. But their stockings are anchored around a small nativity. And on Christmas Eve instead of putting out cookies for the jolly old fake guy, we'll be making a birthday cake for the King of Kings. As each member of the family takes a turn at opening presents, we will reflect upon the Magi coming to a baby Jesus many years ago. We've already been having conversations about why Jesus was born, and what His birth, life, death, resurrection, and upcoming return means to us and for us. My five-year-old Emma especially is asking questions to piece it all together.
So while the tree with its colorful balls is pretty, and the packages are wrapped with bright, pretty paper. And we've watched Santa movies (The Polar Express is on at this moment.), thank goodness my family knows that the true meaning of Christmas is JESUS!!!!
"But the angel said to them," Do not be afraid, I bring you good news of great joy tht will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you, he is Christ the Lord."
Luke 2: 10-11
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Pool Balls
It is my prayer that through my everyday life, my children will see a life that at least attempts to take a stab at living the way the Bible outlines. I know I'm not perfect -- and I could give you a list of references to attest to this -- but I do try to do things the right way.
I know that there are events in my mundane life that show my children integrity. I have been honest about my kids' ages even though it means I had to pay for a buffet for a kid that was one day over three. I've trudged back into stores to pay for something that got tucked behind a diaper bag or sleeping child or was snitched away by sticky baby fingers. I have been kind to people that my children know have hurt me. I have helped people when we barely had enough money to help ourselves. I have my children in church even on days when the weather is gross or I feel yucky because that's where they need to be.
I firmly believe that children will grow up and live life close to the pattern that they saw as a child. Since I want them to have successful, honest, productive lives, I must provide these patterns for them. (Sorry, kids, you will probably never have an uncluttered house if you pattern that after me.)
But sometimes I feel that I forget to have the real conversations with them. My oldest two children have accepted Jesus as their personal Savior (Thank you God!), but just because they have salvation doesn't mean that there aren't a ton of eternal conversations that we should have both so that they can understand their salvation better and so that they can be positive, vocal, knowledgable witnesses for Christ. However, every once in a while something happens, and I think, aha! I haven't done such a terrible job after all.
We spent Thanksgiving in Tennessee at my brother in law's house. He has a kid's dream "play room" in the back of his house complete with TV, Wii, fooze ball, air hockey, pool, and probably some other things I never saw. My oldest Jayla and I spent some time playing pool. She is intensely competitive for 11 and gave me quite a bit of ribbing whenever I got ahead. I refuse to "let" her win, so she was pleased whenever she got ahead and plucky when I was winning. But during our competition, we ended up having a very interesting conversation when I was leading about a very "un-Biblical" event. Here goes:
(I was stripes; she was solids)
Jayla: I think that the striped balls are the evil balls.
Me: Why's that?
Jayla: Their sin makes them have stripes.
Me: Or... they are the good ones. The 8-ball is the "bad" ball -- you don't want to sink it because you automatically lose and it's dark like it's sin-filled. The solid balls are all still full of sin so they have the "colorful lives." But the white ball is like Jesus -- nothing good can be done without Him being in the middle of it. It's through Him that you make it to the pocket. The striped balls still have their solid color representing their sin, but they also have a white stripe because Jesus has redeemed and forgiven them.
Jayla: Poor Jesus. He gets all beat up.
Me: And isn't that the way it was? He was beaten and flogged and nailed to a cross for your sin.
Jayla: Wow. It's your turn.
And just that quick we were on to playing pool. But I had my moment. And I know that I've done my part to make sure that my baby girl is in Heaven with me forever.
I pray that God will give me the wisdom and opportunities to guide my other three children in that same direction.
I know that there are events in my mundane life that show my children integrity. I have been honest about my kids' ages even though it means I had to pay for a buffet for a kid that was one day over three. I've trudged back into stores to pay for something that got tucked behind a diaper bag or sleeping child or was snitched away by sticky baby fingers. I have been kind to people that my children know have hurt me. I have helped people when we barely had enough money to help ourselves. I have my children in church even on days when the weather is gross or I feel yucky because that's where they need to be.
I firmly believe that children will grow up and live life close to the pattern that they saw as a child. Since I want them to have successful, honest, productive lives, I must provide these patterns for them. (Sorry, kids, you will probably never have an uncluttered house if you pattern that after me.)
But sometimes I feel that I forget to have the real conversations with them. My oldest two children have accepted Jesus as their personal Savior (Thank you God!), but just because they have salvation doesn't mean that there aren't a ton of eternal conversations that we should have both so that they can understand their salvation better and so that they can be positive, vocal, knowledgable witnesses for Christ. However, every once in a while something happens, and I think, aha! I haven't done such a terrible job after all.
We spent Thanksgiving in Tennessee at my brother in law's house. He has a kid's dream "play room" in the back of his house complete with TV, Wii, fooze ball, air hockey, pool, and probably some other things I never saw. My oldest Jayla and I spent some time playing pool. She is intensely competitive for 11 and gave me quite a bit of ribbing whenever I got ahead. I refuse to "let" her win, so she was pleased whenever she got ahead and plucky when I was winning. But during our competition, we ended up having a very interesting conversation when I was leading about a very "un-Biblical" event. Here goes:
(I was stripes; she was solids)
Jayla: I think that the striped balls are the evil balls.
Me: Why's that?
Jayla: Their sin makes them have stripes.
Me: Or... they are the good ones. The 8-ball is the "bad" ball -- you don't want to sink it because you automatically lose and it's dark like it's sin-filled. The solid balls are all still full of sin so they have the "colorful lives." But the white ball is like Jesus -- nothing good can be done without Him being in the middle of it. It's through Him that you make it to the pocket. The striped balls still have their solid color representing their sin, but they also have a white stripe because Jesus has redeemed and forgiven them.
Jayla: Poor Jesus. He gets all beat up.
Me: And isn't that the way it was? He was beaten and flogged and nailed to a cross for your sin.
Jayla: Wow. It's your turn.
And just that quick we were on to playing pool. But I had my moment. And I know that I've done my part to make sure that my baby girl is in Heaven with me forever.
I pray that God will give me the wisdom and opportunities to guide my other three children in that same direction.
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