A Wrinkle Caught in Time

She had called and asked to speak to us.


She is always gracious, but this sounded serious. We  had to all be together she said, Joel and I and her. A few church services came and went and we never met up.

Until tonight.

A day or so ago I worried that something was really wrong, that she needed us to help her with something and wondered if we shouldn't just go to her home and meet.

Once she even attempted to WALK to our house from the bus stop, but the bus had been in an accident and so she waited at her stop in vain.

Something was not right.

I chatted with this one and that one and practiced a song and gathered the littles like a hen gathers chicks and almost forgot about our "meeting."

And then there she was. Sitting sweetly, Bible and purse on her lap and Joel was ushering us all into his office.

I always feel awkward at this moment. I offer her a seat and then just get comfortable and wait. You don't know the reason for the meeting so you don't know how to prepare. 

You just wait.

And the story began to unfold as she spoke more with her hands than anything and I listened.

She smiled at me and opened her Bible. She said that she meant to go home last week and read the passage that Joel preached out of to review it in her mind, and by mistake landed in another chapter. While she was there a verse she highlighted years ago struck her and gripped her heart.


"For behold this selfsame thing, that ye sorrowed after a godly sort, what carefulness it wrought in you, yea, what clearing of yourselves, yea, what indignation, yea, what fear, yea, what vehement desire, yea, what zeal, yea, what revenge! In all things ye have approved yourselves to be clear in this matter." II Corinthians 7:11

She said she kept asking the Lord if she needed to be "Clear" in some matter, and if so, which one, with whom??

She said that this was why she wanted ME to be in this meeting so badly.

I swallowed hard. Eyes wide, heart racing.

She kept unfolding a story and I tried to keep my eyes directly on her so as not to miss any inkling of what I had done to offend this sweet lady.

It was about a dress. Months ago, actually a year ago she had wanted to bless our family in some way. I told her that she was sweet and lovely and that was blessing enough, though she insisted still. She mentioned that she used to do some ironing for a family in the church to be a help to a mother of many littles and wondered if that was something I would need?

I remember thinking that was too generous too kind and she was just too old to be tackling my ironing pile!

She insisted week after week so I finally relented. 

And for a month or so she blessed us so with her sweet prayer filled ironing.

One day she arrived at our door! Walking all the way from the bus stop, after catching a bus at her house with a garment in her hands. She was beside herself with worry and I can still see the look in her eyes of just shame.

She had noticed a spot on one of the girl's dresses and tried her best to remove it with every concoction she could remember. It bleached the dress and rendered it unusable and she was so distraught that she walked to us to tell us so!

I had never seen such a thing in my life. I was sorry to lose the dress, but even more sorry to see her walk and feel so guilt ridden. 

She spoke to Joel about it and life went on and she was unable to help us due to her health and I was just happy to have her smiling at us each service.

The "matter" that she said the Holy Spirit was convicting her of was surrounding the dress. I looked stunned and shocked. 

Mostly because I thought to myself, "Wasn't that cleared up a loooong time ago?" And then my heart reminded me of two messages I had sent this very day concerning the Holy Spirit and His leading me to just contact two friends. Two old "matters" that He wanted me to make sure were "clear." How interesting that the Lord would have ME send those messages and then here this message from this dear old saint. 

My mind then flashed to another matter. One that I needed to clear up. One that I needed to humble myself in.

She proceeded to look as though she knew what I had done and what I needed to do. I listened intently as she placed her hand on my shoulder and told me that all those months ago, she had spoken to my husband, and she should have spoken to ME. I hugged her and laughed and she told me that it wasn't a huge weight between us, but just something that just like the scripture had attested, needed "cleared."

And though I am sure she had no idea what she was about to tell me next would make such a profound impact and tie the whole situation in that room and in my heart into a perfect bow, she began another story.

It was of her Father, a blind minister who told her once that Jesus wants us to be his Bride, spotless and without wrinkle. 

Without Wrinkle.

She said that a wrinkle doesn't have to be dirty. And I said the next phrase in perfect sync with her, "It's just creased."

It's just something that takes away from the Bride's appearance. It is one flaw that needs corrected.  Little did I know how this soiled dress would speak volumes to me over a year latter through a woman who is a beautiful Bride of Christ's.

I asked her if she would excuse me. I had a phone call to make.....

"Marriage" has a nice ring to it. Wouldn't you agree?

               My lack of blogging is by no means a lack of living. In truth, the amount of living has led to the lack of writing. I know you all understand. Would you believe that a running documentary has been going on mentally and yet it wasn't until a friend mentioned that he reads a "certain" blog, but a certain "someone" hasn't posted in way too long, that I finally hit the keys again? Well this is the result of that prompting.

If he wasn't talking about me, well it's time to jump in with both feet again anyhow.

Summer has been warm and lovely and the tan lines from arms and legs are beginning to fade. Before vacation began I had the divine idea of buying my husband food from a local posh restaurant and transforming his office into all things romantical.

I headed to the restaurant and a very nice greeter met me. I had dressed for a fancy date and his niceness took me back. Sure people are nice, but it had been a while since a real date and I sat at a table to look over the menu with a sort of redness in my cheeks. And while looking over the menu, even though I KNEW what I wanted to order when I left the house, I did a strange thing.

I turned my ring around. It was weird and quick and thoughtless and so many other words that escape me at this moment. A little attention turned my head....and tugged at my heart. In the restaurant I could cross my ankles and smell lovely and sport a new shade of lipstick and almost escape from laundry and nagging and crumbs. And I sat in this wonderland for a good few moments, really thinking about what the turning of a ring can mean.

Unknown to me a business meeting was taking place a few tables over. Each man ordered a drink and slapped each other on the back. They were as sincerely glad to see each other as I am to see spiders. I was intrigued and began to watch them intently while my tomato basil soup was prepared. Besides this gave me ample time to forget about my quandary and focus on something else. The slim waitress came and greeted the men who were only too happy to greet her in return. They flirted with her for a good five minutes when the Spirit finally got ahold of me.

I fingered my ring, and remembered.

The busboy came again to tell me that my order would be right up, and with the strangest face I am sure a customer has ever given him, I nodded.

This young kid has not stood by me for almost 15 years. He hasn't seen me good and bad, teary and joy filled. He has not gone to the store just because something sounded good, heard my heart on a matter, prayed over me when words of my own couldn't reach the surface. He would never patiently allow the Lord to chip my rough edges off or walk barefoot in the grass with me. He wouldn't tell me I was a good teacher even though we all know that's probably the only lie he's ever told.

My eyes glanced at the men having the meeting. They were really disgusting to me. And the Spirit told me I was in the same boat with them. They were all married men as displayed by their rings......

Rings.

Again, I fingered my own set.

Promises meant to be kept. If I was anything, I was loyal. Or so I said to everyone. Loyal. Loyal until some waiter smiles and makes me feel like a million dollars.

I grabbed the food and was almost running out the door. I must get to him. MY him.

And that I did. He was overjoyed to see me and that made me want to just be sick right then and there.

I spread all the food before him,  and before he could rub my arm again or cheerily tell me how much this made his day I sat him down. I told him what had happened. How it felt good to be noticed, smiled at.

Through tears I told him that for a moment my heart had skipped and my ring had turned.

I told him how the Lord smote me and flooded my memory of all that we had weathered.

And I made the decision to choose him again. And again and again and again.

I told him how those men disgusted me and how I disgusted myself.

We hugged and he wiped tears and we sipped soup and he told me to share this with all of you. He thought it was  a wonderful reminder of the choice we make everyday.

Because children pull at you and work never ends and you will always find something that will make you angry at one another if you peer hard enough through a lens labled "discontent." And the stats will tell you that if you make it years into marriage and don't jump ship, that the memories that you share together make the last of the voyage even sweeter than the first kiss.

Even sweeter??? Yes. Even sweeter.

My husband proposed to me again at our ten year mark and got down on one knee. I was expecting Alayna and on bed rest, but we escaped to the park where our wedding pictures were taken anyway. We were more nervous that day and more aware of what a lifetime really meant then we were ten years previous. And he put another beautiful ring on my finger.

I hadn't wore it much because I never really got it the right size. I decided to bite the bullet and get it sized to enjoy, now heading into our 15th year. I wanted the beginning on one hand, and the building of history on the other.

It really has taken some getting used to, this other ring. It feels funny and even bothers me a bit. This not having a ring on for years can do that to you. My wedding set just feels like part of my hand now. Sometimes it's like old hat to me. Shame on me, but it is. This new ring, or old ring, or whatever you want to call it, is good for me to see. 6 diamonds for 6 littles, 3 girls on one side and 3 boys on the other. One large stone hugged by two middle sized ones symbolizing Joel and I and our only refuge.

The Lord Jesus Christ.

This was not easy to type, or admit. But it is real and heartfelt and honest. Marriage takes work and grace and loyalty to one another. It takes forgiving and looking at your sin as distasteful as the other's. It takes falling on your face and quiet strength.

It is all together lovely. And I am better for it, blessed by it everyday, and humbled that it was God's idea for me.

A little syrup goes a long way

I keep a small bottle of maple syrup in my purse.

well confession IS good for the soul.

It came from probably the BEST date known to man at a Cracker Barrel a few days ago.

We talked, shared ham and pancakes and one bottle of warm maple syrup.

I was content until I saw the man across the way. He had a lot more than one lone bottle.

So I asked. You have not because you ask not, right?

And I was given another bottle, that I instinctively slipped into the purse.

It makes me happy just by being there.

Makes me feel prepared, like a swiss army knife, for any situation.

Stranded somewhere? Bam! Out comes the syrup to ration until help comes.

Help still not coming? Bam! write a note (On a very very very small piece of paper) and send it down stream.

Ok so its not as practical as a swiss army knife, I will give you that, but it still makes me feel so prepared. So happy.

Maybe it makes me feel so happy because I associate it with hot coffee and melt in your mouth pancakes.

Yeah, that just may be it.

And last night I stayed up waaaaay late to catch up on news.

For you worriers like myself, this is probably not the time to catch up on news.

late at night....when everyone is sleeping. Just throwin a help out there.

And it was bombings and babies being aborted with their tiny feet left in jars, and women mutilated and paying for it, and young girls beautiful, snuffing out their life so soon because of deep pain.

And if I am not careful I can find security and comfort in the fact that I have locked all the doors and tucked all the children in.

That I am far away from Boston, waited for marriage to have children, and walked the straight and narrow in high school. That if the rapture would happen this very moment all of my family would gather to meet Christ and rejoice for all eternity.

If I am not careful I will hide and pad my nest and shut out the world.

I will refuse to care about my neighbor 100 yards away thinking he is safe from all harm as well.

And late at night the faces of the children I will never meet from missionary slides comes to mind. And the lady at the grocery store I have come to seek out each trip. And the family member that hasn't really considered what an eternity without Christ really means for him.

But what if? What if it was my son who died in the explosion in Boston?

Could I have the heart of Christ and forgive these young men? Could I show grace that only comes from God?

Do I read the news and turn up my nose or say, "Forgive them Lord, for they do not know what they are doing."

And the Lord reminds me of my little bottle of syrup.

The one only I know about.

Well, now you do too.

And last night in my warm and comfy bed, while beginning a new knitted sock, the Lord decided to remind me of my syrup.

Will you enjoy your own comfort, family, life, ETERNAL life, and let the world just get their just desserts?

Will you shun, say, "they made their bed, let them lie in it?" and turn off the computer and close your eyes and refuse to care?

Will you let your friend, a stranger, a neighbor, a relative die and miss heaven because you had it and kept it to yourself?

Why?

Because you are blessed you can hoard it and only care about your own and their safety?

What if someone lived next door with the gospel and hid it under a basket and you went to bed another night not knowing, doing the best you could, and the light was only a few yards away?

How smitten my heart was.

It isn't just news.

It isn't just a faraway state.

It isn't just some lady in some clinic who lost the ability to ever have another child again.

It is a lost and helpless world.

And there is syrup for us all.

For.us.all.

I have breath in my lungs today to spread the good news.

It is the reason we are alive.

It is our sole responsibility.

Lord, forgive my apathy.

The Royalty Review: A chance to win some lovely products!

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A Tale of Two Truths (and apparently I have a thing for "T's" lately :)

Truth speaking folks.

Always my favorite to be around for a while at a time.

People different from my own flaws that see things from behind different colored glasses.

Love them.

The people who encourage me the most are those who lean hard over coffee and feel safe enough to ask, to wonder with me and to tell me the truth.

Jesus was a truth speaker.

I happen to believe that when scripture tells us that He went about doing good... well I believe that a lot of that was speaking truth as much as healing infirmities.

Infirmities of the mind can be the worst of all.

Lies that creep in, that deform how we view others, life, God.

A twist on God’s design that satan capitalizes on and feeds like it is his prize begonia in this vast garden of humankind.

And we as women folk run silent while doing the dishes and folding clothes and drilling spelling words, just adding the mind to the list of things to organize for that day and if we don’t get to it that day we just let it spill over into the next and the next.

And we feel such a bother to spill our hurts and thoughts and questions to those around us. 

Do they really care that we lost half a night’s sleep thinking we had cancer somewhere?

Sometimes it is just easier for us to let the cancer of the mind do it’s dirty work and suffer alone with worry, fear or doubt.

Doubt, that cancer of the soul that forgets so easily words that give life again.

And today before the lunch spread of homemade chicken salad and meatloaf sandwiches made their grand appearance it just slipped out, between friends and I half wondered if I should excuse myself or allow myself to bear what I had been keeping for too long.

And as always, ALWAYS with God’s love alive and shining through flesh and blood, it was grace that covered my questions, and each thought was carefully studied and weighed.

Weighed and tried with years of experience that just soothed me like only grace and the merciful can.

And I felt a tear but did my dead level best to shy it away. It was a tear of relief.

Of relief that it was okay to have questions and feel horrible about some things and get them sorted out like you would recyclables.

Keep some, sort some, and throw some in the rubbish.

For good.

Each of us are marked, shaped by those who have poured into us.

Some, have poured truth.

Some, have not.

Some have left grace on the shelf and led you to believe that all roads are rough, and you must press through any obstacle, people included.

And in my 35 almost 36 years young I am constantly weeding my thought life. 

Weeding and enjoying those gracious enough to hear me out, thoughts and feelings and wonderings all alike and help me see things from someone else’s shoes.

It is no fault of someone to have a bent.

Bents are life. They are the result of the pouring of others.

And how are you to know any different until a sweet someone lets you unwind a bit?

No pushing, no arguing.

Just quiet sifting, learning, 

leaning 

a 

different 

direction.

To balance out a bit.

Thank you special someone.

The Taming of the Twelve.

The twelve.

Running up the stairs and down, and playing BOTH pianos.

We sit for tea and a stack of ginger snaps to formulate a plan.

If we are together, we're STRONG... divided..... WEAK.

We are RESOLVED. We are downing ginger snaps like there's no tomorrow.

Alright, sounds good. Come with me to wipe a bottom on the toilet.

Ok, lets start that whole "together" thing AFTER this bathroom break.

I massage my husband's feet for the sole purpose of these visitors seeing and going home to publish my sweetness to their mother.

I am smelling something while Joel enquires about our resources for a snack.

Is it really ONLY 9:30???

The organ was apparently lonely and needs to play along as well. Who knew the first few notes of "Jingle Bells" was so endearing?

I think he's messy?

Again?

No. He just went.

Well you better check anyway.

He checks and gives me the "I told you so," look and I tell him we have celery and peanut butter for snack.

And puzzle pieces are flying and older ones are trying to figure out how to play "Ten Days in Asia."

"Hmmm you can go to Turkey OR Lebanon."

I was just thinking the BACK YARD....

And their chatter is mixed with Joel teaching Anna to draw an "8."

This bubble is bigger than that bubble..

I am bribing a little to watch over another little that is prone to mischief and each time she checks in with me and no one has lost life or limb she gets a hershey kiss.

She checks in a lot. Well it's worth it for some peace of mind.

"MONGOLIA!!"

"5, 6, 7, 8...."

"Machal but ser yam."

A collective, "Huh?"

Tell me again honey? What?

"Machal but ser yam."

Rachel is cutting ham???

Older brother comes to the rescue telling me that his sister is using the restroom.

It's all good.

Two are missing and some shoes are on and we are stealthy parents.

"There sar sants in the bafoom."

Two go exploring and the older girls fear I will make them fold laundry until night fall and so they hide.

Smart girls.

I need a tissue.

Giggling girls run to and from the "sants."

And ONE SQUARE of two-ply comes.

Can I have a little BIGGER piece???

And as they frolic we are reminded again that if they revolt, we are in serious trouble.

The thought also occurs to me that this is what it would have been like if EACH of our littles had a twin.

I mysteriously begin singing praises to God.

I am imagining Michelle Duggar saying in her sing songy voice, "Jim Bob tells me all the time, These are the best days of our lives and we don't even know it."

And some days I want to do physical harm to her for saying so.

But today as I catch Joel's eye and he gives me that, "We will make it though this day and laugh when we go to bed," look,

I know she was spot on today.

....and it's 9:45


Well, I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back.

Let me know if you need some help.

giggle giggle....

Hat's off to you.

Grabbed the girls and went out for a jaunt to do this and that.

I finally bit the bullet and got my engagement ring sized...... up, that is.

Ahhh that just feels so freeing, typing it.

It did make me feel so lovely when the jeweler just happened to mention that the normal ring size for a woman was a seven, and mine, well for almost fourteen years it has been hanging around at a size

5 3/4.

Yeah it's been too long in coming, but it slides and looks lovely.

Yes you should. You are wondering if you should do the same.

Yes.

And while you are at it, give those old skirts, you know, the ones from college...

to the teen girl in your church.

And carry some chocolate in your purse for the first time she walks in with one of them.

Or you could just burn them.

Just an idea or two.

We stopped in at the mall to get my ring and afterwards I went to one store and my hubby and a little went to another.

Something about hats on sale.

I found a sweet white jacket for a steal and met up with Joel to find him sporting a cute new hat. He never buys things for himself so I was tickled that he did so.

The girls felt sucked into Clarie's to look at pretties and Joel excused himself to use the restroom.

Yeah not the best topic for blogs, but hey, it goes with the story.

Once we had our fill of headbands we went out to sit on a few chairs to wait for Joel and then he came and we were off to the next store.

And it occurred to me that he wasn't wearing his hat.

"Oh, yeah, well the man cleaning the restroom said he liked it, so I gave it to him."

I am half startled and half smiling.

"And I gave him a tract and told him that Jesus loves him."

What a wonderful thing.

And he went on to tell me that the money he spent on that hat is well worth the possibility of a soul coming to know the Lord.

I found words to ask him what the man said.

"He didn't really know what to say. He just kept telling me thank you."

"Thank You."

Thank you, nice man, for caring more for me then your new hat.

And I would look at him in the car in the dark with the littles half in dreamland and say thank you too.

"Thank you God."

Thank you for a man who loves people, me included.

Thank you for how his heart drawn close to you draws mine too.

I imagine the story that that worker told to his wife or friend that night,

possibly when they said,

"Hey, nice hat."

:-)