I'm sure there will be some squealing piggies by the time some people have finished reading my thoughts on this particular topic. I've considered writing about it for some time now, but didn't really have a good way to begin that didn't sound preachy, and I am truly trying to avoid that. Today, I read the following article:
I sat on my couch, mouth agape, stricken. That figure is astounding to me. I wondered, how do we, as women respond to this? Women, who have fought for their "right to choose" are now ending the lives of future women, and thereby denying any choice they could have made for themselves. What happens to a woman's right to choose when there's no women left? While I understand the culture differences between women in America and the women in India, the numbers are still astonishing. 12 MILLION over 3 decades. 400,000 girls a year. In 1 country. While I haven't been able to locate the same statistic for aborted girls in China, I did find the following information:
In a 2002 survey conducted in a central China village, more than 300 of the 820 women had abortions and more than a third of them admitted they were trying to select their baby's sex.
"According to a report by the International Planned Parenthood Federation, the vast majority of aborted fetuses, more than 70 percent, were female, citing the abortion of up to 750,000 female fetuses in China in 1999."
"A report by Zhang Qing, population researcher of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, said the gender imbalance is "statistically related to the high death rate of female babies, with female death rate at age zero in the city or rural areas consistently higher than male baby death rate." Only seven of China's 29 provinces are within the world's average sex ratio. Zhang Qing's report cited eight "disaster provinces" from North to South China, where there were 26 to 38 percent more boys than girls."
"In the last census in 2000, there were nearly 19 million boys more than girls in the 0-15 age group."
I pulled these quotes from an 2004 article on MSNBC.com. Considering that China has a legal restriction on the number of allowable children per family, whereas India does not, I would estimate that those numbers have increased over the last 7 years.
In the case of India, the method to determine the gender is the ultrasound. In order to determine gender via ultrasound, the woman is typically between 18-20 weeks pregnant. We're not talking early term abortion here. At 12 weeks gestation, the baby's brain is fully formed and they can feel pain. They may suck their thumb. By 16 weeks, they have eyelashes. At 18 weeks, they blink, grasp with their hands, and move their mouths. By the time 20 weeks rolls around, they have fingerprints.
If you are of the mindset that they are not alive until birth, then think about the risks to the mother. There are a multitude of physical and psychological side effects that a woman who chooses to terminate a pregnancy can endure, up to, and although rare in this country, including death.
Don't be too quick to say, "Well, that's India and China... not here. It's totally not the same thing." We may not have statistics on gender selection in relation to abortions in this country, but it would be naive to think it doesn't happen here. In 2008, there were 1.2 million abortions in the United States. In a nation where tests to determine genetic abnormalities is strongly recommended (to the point of being pushy... and I've lived that, so yes, it does happen), abortions are already occurring when parents think that their child may be less than perfect. How many pregnancies have been terminated because of the potential of genetic difficulties? Although not common, and certainly not easy, some couples are using sex selection during IVF today. If science allows us the option, how long will it be before we are playing God? More than we already are, anyway.
Okay, clearly I'm Pro-Life. My personal opinion is that life begins at conception. I am part of the first generation of American children who could have legally been aborted after Roe vs. Wade. Yes, I know that means I have always lived in a country that offered women the "freedom" of choice. I know that I didn't live in a country where back-alley abortions were prevalent. That doesn't change my opinion. While I do want women to have access to good health care, and to be safe from harm, our right to choose begins long before we're trying to decide whether or not to terminate a pregnancy. We can choose to abstain from sex. We can choose to use methods of birth control if abstinence isn't the choice we made. Before I get jumped on about cases of rape and incest... where the woman had her choice taken from her... please realize that abortions done in this country due to rape and/or incest amount to less than 1/2 of 1%. We can choose to rely on God's promise to us that His plan is greater than our own. We were, after all, "knit together in our mother's womb" according to Scripture, and he knew us before then.
My grandmother and her mother before her struggled with society's expectations about pregnancy. My grandmother used to tell me that if my grandfather laid his pants across the bedpost, she got pregnant. She came from a very poor family with 11 brothers and sisters. She didn't want a large family. She had horrible pregnancies, and with each birth, she had greater complications. By the time my youngest uncle was born, it nearly killed her. Birth control was available by then, but my grandfather was unwilling to "allow" her to be on it. When she was still living at home, she recalled walking in on her mother bleeding to death after she performed a coat-hanger abortion so that she wouldn't have number thirteen. That was a horrible time. It was no doubt a terrifying position to be in. This is not that time. Birth control is available, and affordable...especially in comparison to the cost of raising a child to 18. There are hundreds upon thousands of families just aching to have a baby that aren't able to have their own. Those willing to adopt will cover medical expenses, and all costs associated with that pregnancy. You can't assume that not having medical abortions at your disposal automatically pushes us back to the 1950s. It just ain't so.
One last thing... before you lump me in with the Pro-Lifers that bomb abortion clinics, or kill abortion doctors, please don't. The fanatics in any organization will always make the entire group look like a bunch of nuts. I don't believe that holding up an aborted fetus during a protest shows any respect for life. While I detested the acts that Dr. Tiller performed at his clinic in Wichita, I don't believe that he should have been gunned down in his church on a Sunday morning, or anywhere else for that matter. I do believe the man responsible for his murder should be punished to the full extent of the law. I also believe that women who do choose abortion deserve compassion, and to be treated with dignity not condemnation. I don't think spewing hatred and hurling insults helps anyone on either side of the debate. Most importantly, I believe in the love and forgiveness of an all-seeing, all-knowing God. A God who doesn't make "mistakes". A God who sent His son, His only, beloved son and sacrificed Him on a cross for every last one of us. That means He sent his son for me, for George Tiller, for the man who murdered him, for the lost little girls of India, for the women trying to make that decision today. Every. Last. One. Of. Us.
Just in case anyone reading this is currently dealing with an unplanned pregnancy, I've added some resources below.
Unplanned Pregnancy
913-962-0200 (answered 24 hours a day) (If you're in the Kansas City metro area)
aapc website: www.EducatedDecision.org
National Website: www.OptionLine.org
Abortion Recovery
National Hotline: 1.800.4MyRecovery
www.AbortionRecovery.org
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Viva Las Vegas
We are headed to Vegas today for the Hubby’s business trip. In fact, I’m typing this from the airplane, but won’t post it until we are in the hotel. All the kiddos are hanging with MawMaw this weekend, and I suppose are already at the zoo visiting Nikita the polar bear. Monkey seemed a little unhappy that we were leaving him, but that lasted only as long as it took us to get in the car and back out of the driveway. He was blowing kisses, complete with the full Mwuuu-ah that I so adore. He’ll likely be fine until bedtime; hopefully MawMaw will remember the proper evening routine, and he’ll get get his 3 books, the “snug as a bug in a rug,’” his goodnight kiss, and Sampson’s goodnight kiss as well. (For those of you wondering, Sampson is his teddy bear... and he requires the same evening routine as Monkey, sans bath.)
Tonight’s activities include dinner with one of Hubby’s business partners and wife, and then it is off to see the Elvis Cirque du Soleil show. Very “uptown” according to the Hubs. I am looking forward to the alone time with him, even if it is sprinkled with some business.
This is my third trip to Vegas. Hubs was concerned how I would possibly be entertained, especially since tomorrow he will be working throughout the day. I’m not a drinker, I don’t gamble, and it is, after all, Vegas. :-) There is plenty to do that doesn’t include debauchery, I say. The people-watching alone will entertain me for hours on end. I get an endless kick out of the brides in their full wedding regalia battling it out with the one-armed bandits. I chuckle at the grandmas loaded down with their good luck charms and fighting over “their” machines.
I never cease to be amazed by the varied temperaments you can see in the casinos. On my last trip to Vegas, my friend and I tried to go outside for a little fresh air in between meetings, and we somehow ended up in the garage area where the tour buses drop off and pick up the hotel guests. It was there that we witnessed the most spectacular fight between a bus driver and a guest. This particular guest was riding a scooter due to her size, and was heading down the handicapped ramp are a rapid pace. There was a blind gentleman (and I stress the word gentleman, because had I been he, someone may have been whacked with my cane) trying to make his way down the ramp. He was moving cautiously, because he was obviously not accustomed to this very long ramp and its many turns. As I was saying, Scooter Lady came tearing down the ramp, and clearly didn’t want to wait for the gentleman to get out of her way. Her scooter was equipped with a VERY loud horn, and she began beeping and yelling at him to “MOVE!” He barely escaped her, but she obviously had other things on her mind... like the bus driver at the very end of the ramp that was siting on one rail with his feet on the rail across from him. I must pause here to explain that this ramp was super long, and that it was set up much like a line for a ride at an amusement park. Walk, turn, walk, turn, walk, turn. The poor bus driver was several hundred feet away, and had ample time to move. That didn’t stop Scooter Lady from bellowing at him to “Get the bleeeeeep out of my way! Move it, Mister... I’m HANDICAPPED!!” He didn’t snap to attention, because I’m sure, much like my friend and myself, he was pretty shocked that she had just nearly taken out this blind gentleman all the while wailing on about HER handicap. His seeming lack of concern for the Scooter Lady’s handicap caused her to lose it...and I don’t mean a little bit. She’s cursing and screaming that he had better get out of her way. The ramp is for the handicapped, which SHE happens to be, not for lazy bleep bleep bleeps who are trying to put their feet up. Everyone else may have been stunned speechless, but not Mr. Bus Driver, who had apparently had about enough of guests being rude to him. He started yelling back at her, and told her he would move when she was close, but he wasn’t hurting anyone and she could just shut her extraordinarily loud mouth. They had some fantastic back and forth which only escalated when he loudly called her the ‘B‘ word and then jumped down in the bus lane where she couldn’t follow him and disappeared. My friend and I were there, mouths agape, when she yelled at him that he’d better get back up there and give him her name so she could turn him in. She then began screaming bloody murder at anyone in her path that bore a slight resemblance to anyone that could possibly be a bus driver. I’ll admit, calling her the ‘B’ word was way out of line... but anyone witnessing the event could certainly feel his pain. We hung around just a little longer to see if anymore drama would ensue, but she ended up on a bus. We did see the bus driver poke his head from between 2 buses in the back with a big grin on his face before we had to head back into our meeting. Like I said... there’s always something to do in Vegas!
I’m still shocked that Hubs, who travels to Vegas on business at least once a year has never been to the Bellagio. He explained that he’s not a chick, and has always travelled there for business, not romance, so there was no need to go see a bunch of fountains. “But it is GORGEous!” is always my reply. This trip, he’s going. It helps that our hotel (we’re staying at the new Aria) is right by the Bellagio... so I won’t have to drag him kicking and screaming very far at all.
*Sidenote* The lady in front of me is watching Toy Story 3, and I have to say... I’m a wee bit jealous. I failed to grab a magazine for this flight, and even though I remembered my lovely Mac, I didn’t remember that it has a DVD player, so didn’t bring any movies. I haven’t seen Toy Story 3, and I’m afraid that will have to be remedied very shortly. I have a toddler; I can totally justify the purchase.
Alright, this post is already ridiculously long... so I’ll wrap it up. I’m sure I’ve sufficiently bored anyone who may be reading my flight ramblings anyway. Maybe I’ll take a little nap....
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Confessions
God's been speaking to me a lot the past couple of weeks, but I have struggled with what to write because everything seemed a little too personal. It was personal, not in the sense that it was private... more that it was personal because it was touching so many raw nerves because I was in the wrong. Accountability is such a necessity, especially among believers... but that doesn't mean we enjoy seeing our faults under a microscope. Sometimes, we would really rather sweep them under the rug and pretend they don't exist...or is that just me?
I'm involved in a women's Bible study at my church. We are currently doing Beth Moore's study called "A Woman's Heart: God's Dwelling Place." It is a study about the Temple. It sounded intriguing when I signed up, but I have to tell you... it has been a real struggle for me. It is intriguing... but it is HARD. The daily homework is difficult, and it requires a lot more time that the studies I've done in the past. Not only that, but anything that could interfere with me getting the lessons completed, has. First, Monkey had a nasty case of croup. Then, due to his recent insistence on lots of kisses, and his failure to always close his mouth as he comes in for said kisses, resulted in me getting his hacking cough. My hacking cough turned into a mild case of pneumonia. By the time my antibiotics kicked in, he came down with yet another case of croup, albeit a milder one. Now he's getting more teeth, and the snot abounds... as does the biting, and general crankiness of a teething toddler. Snow days, sickness, exhaustion, doctor visits, technical difficulties with the video portion of the study...you name it, it has happened. Homework got behind, messages got lost, and to be honest, I didn't even want to do the study any more.
Prior to last week's group session, I bit the bullet, and got my homework done. I walked into the meeting room thinking I really hadn't taken away anything from all that work. I didn't get it. Studying the detailed instruction on how the temple was to be constructed, from the brazen altar, to the lampstand, to the basin, to the golden altar... it's good information to know... but what in the world was He trying to tell me? I felt stupid, which is not a feeling I relish, and I just was ready to call it quits. I prayed at the beginning of each session for God to speak to me through this study, just like I'm supposed to, and I just felt like He wasn't. I haven't experienced such silence from Him, especially not when I'm studying His Word. I have always walked away with something new, which, no matter how many times I've read certain scriptures, never ceases to amaze me. What was the deal??
We had two video sessions that week, to make up for the technical difficulties of the week before. Midway through the first session, it started to make sense just why so many of us seemed under attack throughout this study. The lesson was on the symbolism behind the materials used within the temple. The brazen alter was made of acacia wood, and then overlaid with bronze. It is the alter where sin sacrifices were made. As we spoke of the wood, the verses in John (and please forgive me, because my Bible is not next to me, and the actual verse escapes me) where we learn about branches being pruned were referenced. He cuts away the branches that don't bear fruit, and they are thrown into the fire, but here's what I somehow missed before... he also prunes the branches that are bearing fruit, so they'll produce more good fruit. I've probably read that verse a hundred times. Beth Moore talked about how, as women, we will hold onto those branches till there are splinters in our hands, trying to keep them as they are... refusing to be pruned. If we're producing fruit, then hey, leave those branches to me. Why is it that we are so willing to let God have the stuff we don't want anymore, and so UNwilling to let Him have everything? Is He sovereign, or isn't He?
I have a control issue, which I'm sure is shocking to everyone that knows me. (That's sarcasm, people.) I don't like to relinquish control to anyone, and sadly, that has included God. I can go to God with the super big stuff. The stuff that no mere mortal can manage... that is all His. I can lay those things at His feet, and have faith that He will manage it. Why does it seem to take so much more faith to let Him have every other little bit, the good and the bad alike? Why do I hesitate to talk to Him about the mundane detail of my every waking moment? He knows the number of hairs on my head; do I really think I'm sneaking stuff past Him? If I really believed His word, every part of it, I would be on my knees, broken before Him, every single chance I got. Ouch. The sin of prayerlessness... I know, and have always known that my prayer life is a huge part of my relationship with God. The Bible says I should pray without ceasing, but did I ever acknowledge that not praying was a sin? Did I ever confess that sin? Have I ever looked at it in that light? I know that I have a peace when my prayer life is as it should be, but did I ever realize that maybe it isn't about me? That maybe it pains Him when I don't trust Him with the minutia of my life? Don't get me wrong, being in communion with Him will always result in blessings, but if that if the only reason you're praying, well... you're missing the point.
I left last week broken, and needing to confess so many things to Him. I was excited to get back to the homework, excited to hear what else He had to tell me. Before I knew it though, I was right back in my rut. Like the Israelites before me, I am a ssslllloooooooooooooooow learner. I make the same mistakes over, and over, and over again. Just to drive home the point, towards the end of this week's homework, (which I put off until right before our group meeting this morning) there was a lesson about Jesus being our intercessor. He wants to intercede for us. When I don't ask, He doesn't intercede. Well, duh. He wants to intercede for us... His death and resurrection was the final sacrifice, and His holiness is what allows us to speak directly to the Father, because His blood covers our sin.
My sin is great. It is huge. I have "been in the pit" as Beth Moore so often says. Heck, I've dwelled there for giant portions of my life... but guess what? I am forgiven, and not believing that He has forgiven me, despite my tremendous lack of worth, is a slap in the face to the Father. What more does He have to do for me to get it, for me to have faith that what He promised, He fulfilled? Trust me when I tell you, I have a lot to confess. I have a lot to repent. This will take some time, to go through all of this muck and lay it at the feet of the Savior. I'd better start now... there's no time to waste. Thank heavens for His grace.
One last thing... today we were talking about Moses, Aaron, and Hur. During the battle with the Amalekites, as long as Moses' arms were holding up his staff, the people of Israel prevailed. When he lowered his arms, the Amalekites would start to win. Aaron and Hur helped hold up his arms when he grew weary so that the Israelites could win the battle. God could have given Moses supernatural strength so that he could do it on his own... but that wasn't the point. You need the support of your fellow believers. One of the study questions was asking who our support was. I am blessed to have a husband who holds me up. I am blessed to have a family who supports me...even more blessed that they are a family that I wasn't born into, but have grafted me in much like Gentile believers have been grafted in to God's chosen people. That being said, I have gained a new support system as I go through this study. To the ladies I have come to love during this study, thank you for being my Aaron and Hur. It has meant more than you could know.
I'm involved in a women's Bible study at my church. We are currently doing Beth Moore's study called "A Woman's Heart: God's Dwelling Place." It is a study about the Temple. It sounded intriguing when I signed up, but I have to tell you... it has been a real struggle for me. It is intriguing... but it is HARD. The daily homework is difficult, and it requires a lot more time that the studies I've done in the past. Not only that, but anything that could interfere with me getting the lessons completed, has. First, Monkey had a nasty case of croup. Then, due to his recent insistence on lots of kisses, and his failure to always close his mouth as he comes in for said kisses, resulted in me getting his hacking cough. My hacking cough turned into a mild case of pneumonia. By the time my antibiotics kicked in, he came down with yet another case of croup, albeit a milder one. Now he's getting more teeth, and the snot abounds... as does the biting, and general crankiness of a teething toddler. Snow days, sickness, exhaustion, doctor visits, technical difficulties with the video portion of the study...you name it, it has happened. Homework got behind, messages got lost, and to be honest, I didn't even want to do the study any more.
Prior to last week's group session, I bit the bullet, and got my homework done. I walked into the meeting room thinking I really hadn't taken away anything from all that work. I didn't get it. Studying the detailed instruction on how the temple was to be constructed, from the brazen altar, to the lampstand, to the basin, to the golden altar... it's good information to know... but what in the world was He trying to tell me? I felt stupid, which is not a feeling I relish, and I just was ready to call it quits. I prayed at the beginning of each session for God to speak to me through this study, just like I'm supposed to, and I just felt like He wasn't. I haven't experienced such silence from Him, especially not when I'm studying His Word. I have always walked away with something new, which, no matter how many times I've read certain scriptures, never ceases to amaze me. What was the deal??
We had two video sessions that week, to make up for the technical difficulties of the week before. Midway through the first session, it started to make sense just why so many of us seemed under attack throughout this study. The lesson was on the symbolism behind the materials used within the temple. The brazen alter was made of acacia wood, and then overlaid with bronze. It is the alter where sin sacrifices were made. As we spoke of the wood, the verses in John (and please forgive me, because my Bible is not next to me, and the actual verse escapes me) where we learn about branches being pruned were referenced. He cuts away the branches that don't bear fruit, and they are thrown into the fire, but here's what I somehow missed before... he also prunes the branches that are bearing fruit, so they'll produce more good fruit. I've probably read that verse a hundred times. Beth Moore talked about how, as women, we will hold onto those branches till there are splinters in our hands, trying to keep them as they are... refusing to be pruned. If we're producing fruit, then hey, leave those branches to me. Why is it that we are so willing to let God have the stuff we don't want anymore, and so UNwilling to let Him have everything? Is He sovereign, or isn't He?
I have a control issue, which I'm sure is shocking to everyone that knows me. (That's sarcasm, people.) I don't like to relinquish control to anyone, and sadly, that has included God. I can go to God with the super big stuff. The stuff that no mere mortal can manage... that is all His. I can lay those things at His feet, and have faith that He will manage it. Why does it seem to take so much more faith to let Him have every other little bit, the good and the bad alike? Why do I hesitate to talk to Him about the mundane detail of my every waking moment? He knows the number of hairs on my head; do I really think I'm sneaking stuff past Him? If I really believed His word, every part of it, I would be on my knees, broken before Him, every single chance I got. Ouch. The sin of prayerlessness... I know, and have always known that my prayer life is a huge part of my relationship with God. The Bible says I should pray without ceasing, but did I ever acknowledge that not praying was a sin? Did I ever confess that sin? Have I ever looked at it in that light? I know that I have a peace when my prayer life is as it should be, but did I ever realize that maybe it isn't about me? That maybe it pains Him when I don't trust Him with the minutia of my life? Don't get me wrong, being in communion with Him will always result in blessings, but if that if the only reason you're praying, well... you're missing the point.
I left last week broken, and needing to confess so many things to Him. I was excited to get back to the homework, excited to hear what else He had to tell me. Before I knew it though, I was right back in my rut. Like the Israelites before me, I am a ssslllloooooooooooooooow learner. I make the same mistakes over, and over, and over again. Just to drive home the point, towards the end of this week's homework, (which I put off until right before our group meeting this morning) there was a lesson about Jesus being our intercessor. He wants to intercede for us. When I don't ask, He doesn't intercede. Well, duh. He wants to intercede for us... His death and resurrection was the final sacrifice, and His holiness is what allows us to speak directly to the Father, because His blood covers our sin.
My sin is great. It is huge. I have "been in the pit" as Beth Moore so often says. Heck, I've dwelled there for giant portions of my life... but guess what? I am forgiven, and not believing that He has forgiven me, despite my tremendous lack of worth, is a slap in the face to the Father. What more does He have to do for me to get it, for me to have faith that what He promised, He fulfilled? Trust me when I tell you, I have a lot to confess. I have a lot to repent. This will take some time, to go through all of this muck and lay it at the feet of the Savior. I'd better start now... there's no time to waste. Thank heavens for His grace.
One last thing... today we were talking about Moses, Aaron, and Hur. During the battle with the Amalekites, as long as Moses' arms were holding up his staff, the people of Israel prevailed. When he lowered his arms, the Amalekites would start to win. Aaron and Hur helped hold up his arms when he grew weary so that the Israelites could win the battle. God could have given Moses supernatural strength so that he could do it on his own... but that wasn't the point. You need the support of your fellow believers. One of the study questions was asking who our support was. I am blessed to have a husband who holds me up. I am blessed to have a family who supports me...even more blessed that they are a family that I wasn't born into, but have grafted me in much like Gentile believers have been grafted in to God's chosen people. That being said, I have gained a new support system as I go through this study. To the ladies I have come to love during this study, thank you for being my Aaron and Hur. It has meant more than you could know.
Monday, February 14, 2011
True Love
Valentine's Day is tomorrow... or in an hour and 21 minutes from now. We've all been inundated with commercials from flower shops and jewelry stores, each trying to tell us how we should properly express love to our significant other.
I spent years having a hate-hate relationship with Valentine's Day. It is a truly lonely day when you are single. You spend the day avoiding the perky girls with the 3 dozen red roses sitting on their desk, which can be difficult to do when they're accompanied by an 8 foot high mylar balloon bouquet and a vat of chocolate, and when it seems every cubicle in a thousand yard radius is occupied by the aforementioned perkiness. You note with irritation that it is really just a made-up holiday to make money for the card companies. You get bitter, and more than a little cynical about love in general.
Things have changed for me in the past few years. God put a man in my life. The one. And just like that, my perspective on so many things changed.
My husband and I both had first marriages that were... well... not what they were meant to be. I could tell some stories on both of us, but the important thing to take away is this: God was never invited into those marriages. There is a reason that Scripture tells us not to be unequally yoked.
When my first marriage ended, I was full of fear. That is not easy for me to admit, because I much prefer to be the tough one. I'm a fighter, after all. I was 28 years old, had two young children and a lot of excess baggage. I was scared of being alone, scared of never finding someone who truly loved me, scared of being a single parent... you name it, and I was scared of it. Don't get me wrong, I can pull off all kinds of bravado. I've got a great game face, but deep down inside... I was terrified. God did for me what He so often has to do... He brought me to my knees. In the Bible study I'm currently doing, I recently read that blessings are often received when one is kneeling. That is profound.
Once I started to get into His word, once I started to not just talk to Him, but listen as well... things started changing, but certainly not on my time schedule. Here I was, going to church every time the doors opened, spending time in prayer and study every day, trying really hard to do all the right things, to say the right things, because God had told me that He had someone for me. I had to rely on Him. I had to be obedient, which just so happened to include remaining celibate. Seriously? Celibate? But God... isn't that really for teenagers, and people who have never been married? Are You sure it applies to me too? Because let's be honest.... that's a tall order, and I'm a fan of... well, you know... non-celibacy. Well, fine... because You said he's out there... so I'm sure he's just around the next corner. Only he wasn't. Five and a half very looooooong years, I waited. Not patiently, mind you... but I waited all the same.
I prayed over the mystery man. I prayed he would be 6 feet tall with dark hair and dark eyes. I prayed that he would be a cowboy. I prayed that he would have integrity and be able to love my kids just like they were his. I prayed that he would be a godly man and a leader. I prayed that he would have a spine, and not take any of my crap. I prayed he would be aggressive yet gentle. I prayed that his smile would be just so.
I was introduced to Bob by a close friend and colleague. By then, I was getting a little impatient. I thought maybe, just maybe, I had misunderstood God. I mean, it's not like he audibly told me about this guy. What if my discernment was off? I wouldn't agree to meet this guy she wanted to introduce me to. Thanks, but no. However, my friend is persistent. She just kept talking about him, no matter how many times I said "Thanks, but no." She mentioned that he had a son who was four, and how devoted Bob was to him, and then she mentioned that he also had an eleven year old step-son who Bob had raised since age 2. She told me how even though Bob was no longer married to this boy's mother, that he still picked him up for visitation whenever he could. He still was very much part of this boy's life. That gave me pause. I was used to a man that didn't take care of his own kids, and here was someone who still loved his stepson so much that he wanted to continue to care for him after his divorce. Hmmm... well, that may mean he would be able to love my kids like his own as well... and well... that was on the list.
I agreed to meet him along with my friend for just a lunch. I knew when he walked in the door that this was the guy. You know... THE guy. While originally from Minnesota, he went to high school in Dallas -Fort Worth, and college in Lubbock. He's a cowboy alright... more in attitude than apparel, but a cowboy just the same. He's 6 feet tall, right on the money, with dark hair, dark eyes and a killer smile. Most importantly, he loves God, and leads a Christian household. He fit the bill. Not just a little bit... he met every requirement I threw up to God.... and you know what? He was so worth the wait.
He has a story too... about how God put me in his path right when he wasn't ready for it... when he had decided to be alone and focus on his career. There's more to it, but that's his story to tell... and I know how cool it is.
The reason our marriage works is because instead of the two of us... it's the three of us. God is in the middle, holding the two of us together. God's love is the love that counts. His love is the only True Love. He loved us enough to send and sacrifice His son.
Valentine's Day... it's still a bit of a made-up holiday. You certainly shouldn't wait for one day out of the year to celebrate your love for your significant other. It's still cheesy and flower-filled, and I still sometimes want to kick the perky girls with all the balloons.... but you know what else? It's also a little reminder that God put me with the man He had designed just for me. More than that, it's a reminder that the ultimate love is something we are incapable of giving. Agape love... we'll never quite measure up. We're imperfect, so we do envy, and we do boast... but God doesn't. He loves us with all our flaws, patiently, and perfectly.
So Happy Valentine's Day... because regardless of your relationship status... you are loved. You are fully and completely loved in a way you can't truly even imagine. Don't kick the perky girls, they're loved completely too, balloons notwithstanding.
I spent years having a hate-hate relationship with Valentine's Day. It is a truly lonely day when you are single. You spend the day avoiding the perky girls with the 3 dozen red roses sitting on their desk, which can be difficult to do when they're accompanied by an 8 foot high mylar balloon bouquet and a vat of chocolate, and when it seems every cubicle in a thousand yard radius is occupied by the aforementioned perkiness. You note with irritation that it is really just a made-up holiday to make money for the card companies. You get bitter, and more than a little cynical about love in general.
Things have changed for me in the past few years. God put a man in my life. The one. And just like that, my perspective on so many things changed.
My husband and I both had first marriages that were... well... not what they were meant to be. I could tell some stories on both of us, but the important thing to take away is this: God was never invited into those marriages. There is a reason that Scripture tells us not to be unequally yoked.
When my first marriage ended, I was full of fear. That is not easy for me to admit, because I much prefer to be the tough one. I'm a fighter, after all. I was 28 years old, had two young children and a lot of excess baggage. I was scared of being alone, scared of never finding someone who truly loved me, scared of being a single parent... you name it, and I was scared of it. Don't get me wrong, I can pull off all kinds of bravado. I've got a great game face, but deep down inside... I was terrified. God did for me what He so often has to do... He brought me to my knees. In the Bible study I'm currently doing, I recently read that blessings are often received when one is kneeling. That is profound.
Once I started to get into His word, once I started to not just talk to Him, but listen as well... things started changing, but certainly not on my time schedule. Here I was, going to church every time the doors opened, spending time in prayer and study every day, trying really hard to do all the right things, to say the right things, because God had told me that He had someone for me. I had to rely on Him. I had to be obedient, which just so happened to include remaining celibate. Seriously? Celibate? But God... isn't that really for teenagers, and people who have never been married? Are You sure it applies to me too? Because let's be honest.... that's a tall order, and I'm a fan of... well, you know... non-celibacy. Well, fine... because You said he's out there... so I'm sure he's just around the next corner. Only he wasn't. Five and a half very looooooong years, I waited. Not patiently, mind you... but I waited all the same.
I prayed over the mystery man. I prayed he would be 6 feet tall with dark hair and dark eyes. I prayed that he would be a cowboy. I prayed that he would have integrity and be able to love my kids just like they were his. I prayed that he would be a godly man and a leader. I prayed that he would have a spine, and not take any of my crap. I prayed he would be aggressive yet gentle. I prayed that his smile would be just so.
I was introduced to Bob by a close friend and colleague. By then, I was getting a little impatient. I thought maybe, just maybe, I had misunderstood God. I mean, it's not like he audibly told me about this guy. What if my discernment was off? I wouldn't agree to meet this guy she wanted to introduce me to. Thanks, but no. However, my friend is persistent. She just kept talking about him, no matter how many times I said "Thanks, but no." She mentioned that he had a son who was four, and how devoted Bob was to him, and then she mentioned that he also had an eleven year old step-son who Bob had raised since age 2. She told me how even though Bob was no longer married to this boy's mother, that he still picked him up for visitation whenever he could. He still was very much part of this boy's life. That gave me pause. I was used to a man that didn't take care of his own kids, and here was someone who still loved his stepson so much that he wanted to continue to care for him after his divorce. Hmmm... well, that may mean he would be able to love my kids like his own as well... and well... that was on the list.
I agreed to meet him along with my friend for just a lunch. I knew when he walked in the door that this was the guy. You know... THE guy. While originally from Minnesota, he went to high school in Dallas -Fort Worth, and college in Lubbock. He's a cowboy alright... more in attitude than apparel, but a cowboy just the same. He's 6 feet tall, right on the money, with dark hair, dark eyes and a killer smile. Most importantly, he loves God, and leads a Christian household. He fit the bill. Not just a little bit... he met every requirement I threw up to God.... and you know what? He was so worth the wait.
He has a story too... about how God put me in his path right when he wasn't ready for it... when he had decided to be alone and focus on his career. There's more to it, but that's his story to tell... and I know how cool it is.
The reason our marriage works is because instead of the two of us... it's the three of us. God is in the middle, holding the two of us together. God's love is the love that counts. His love is the only True Love. He loved us enough to send and sacrifice His son.
Valentine's Day... it's still a bit of a made-up holiday. You certainly shouldn't wait for one day out of the year to celebrate your love for your significant other. It's still cheesy and flower-filled, and I still sometimes want to kick the perky girls with all the balloons.... but you know what else? It's also a little reminder that God put me with the man He had designed just for me. More than that, it's a reminder that the ultimate love is something we are incapable of giving. Agape love... we'll never quite measure up. We're imperfect, so we do envy, and we do boast... but God doesn't. He loves us with all our flaws, patiently, and perfectly.
4 Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; 6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; 7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. 8 Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. 11 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 13 And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
So Happy Valentine's Day... because regardless of your relationship status... you are loved. You are fully and completely loved in a way you can't truly even imagine. Don't kick the perky girls, they're loved completely too, balloons notwithstanding.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Snow, snow, snow
I am not a fan of snow. I'm even less of a fan when the kids have yet to have 1 complete week of school since the start of second quarter. Couple that with a croupy toddler, and ridiculously cold temps (yes, I'm aware snow and cold go hand in hand), and I am just too through.
I was able to venture out to MOPS today, thank goodness. I left Monkey with the Major so that he didn't infect any of his little friends, and I headed out into the frigid winter day. On my way home, I saw (and accidentally almost killed... but only almost) a group of big, fat robins hanging out on the street. (In fairness, I only almost killed just one, but I checked the rear view, and he survived it.) I'll bet those robins are pretty ticked at whoever their little meteorologist robin is. Who sent them here this early? Did they form a little bird mob, and have him tarred and... well... unfeathered? They looked stunned and were definitely moving pretty slowly, hence the near death experience of the big guy. Are there rules about whether or not they can leave if they get here and are met with unexpected weather? Can they head back to the south or wherever they flew in from? Is there some kind of policy that prevents them from bailing? Because if not, I would totally fly the crap out of here. I'm just sayin'.
I need to be able to make it to Bible Study on Thursday morning. I need more time with my new friend, Gym. I need to feel some heat other than from the heated seats in the car. Although, truth be told, I am a HUGE fan of my butt warmers, but not such a fan of my huge butt, which is why I need continued time with Gym.
I am aware that I have moved in the rambling section of this blog, but I am trying to stay awake until Major gets home from work. I hate to be one of those mothers, but her being out there driving in this mess makes me a nightmare. I'll sign off before I come up with even worse gibberish. Good night, all!
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