Meditation Monday: Be Worthy of the Answer

The other day Chef, now 12 years old, was pondering the age-old question about why men do what they do - the "why is there evil in the world" question. After much teasing by his older brother, (*sigh*), and a long discussion, it hit me: we had the answer to that question. It is because we are fallen. We have each, at some point, sided with "evil" temptations, whether big or small, they are all equally important to the matters of our souls. 

So what question should we be striving to answer? 

And it is this: If we continue to sin in our fallen nature, why does God still want us to be with Him? Why does He choose to accept us into his sphere for all time?

And the truth is, there is no way that I know of to answer that question. Our kids give us hard ones, don't they??

But here is the bottom line in the whole discussion: 

The answer itself to that second question does not matter. 

The important thing is to strive to be worthy of the answer.

Endurance and Prayer

I am part of a FaceBook group that is specifically for people to request, and respond to, prayers for those in their lives - whether personally, in business, or whatever their needs may be. I also am learning to make the knots that are used in our Orthodox (Christian) prayer ropes, and I often wear one on my wrist to fiddle with; when I fiddle with the prayer bracelet, I am reminded to pray for those around me and in my life. 

What do I pray for? Personal needs, health needs, business needs, family needs... whatever comes to mind for a person. And here's the big thing, I cannot complain about anything in my life. My life is not perfect, but it is relatively hassle-free.

Meditation Monday: On Praying for Others

I don't know if my idea for "Meditation Monday" will continue or if this is a one-time deal, but it's something I thought of earlier today while on the way to church, and something I'd like to try to continue as I go along. This is the spiritual focus I'll be working on this week. I hope you'll join me as we work towards a healthier spiritual life!

The Scene:

Sunday morning, getting scones together for the kids's breakfast and generally preparing for church. 

An ancient place to pray: The ruins of Melrose Abbey in Scotland

The Events:

• The general "stress" of making sure everything was ready to head out the door on time
• Keeping the food from burning
• The to-do list, coupled with being (roughly six-months) pregnant, and having a still-tired undressed toddler to take care of
• The blessings of older kids getting themselves ready without too much instruction from Mom. 

Such stress, as you can imagine, takes its toll sometimes. When the old dog peed all the way down the stairs (again!), and the stairs then needed to be steamed before we left, the irritation and anxiety led me to a difficult moment. I had to stop for a minute and just. breathe.

Vulnerability, Patience and Trust

We are smack in the middle of a move and it has taken over the bulk of my life's existence lately. The cleaning, packing, organizing, getting-rid-of-stuff... Life right now is a constant struggle between the chaos of five children and the chaos of keeping the house "show ready" for potential renters! (Want to see tips on a somewhat stress-free move? Head over to the newest blog that I write on: Rose From a Rock. If you're tired of me and the dog-gone move, head over to Three Friends Fitness to see my new sporty passion: Indoor Rock Climbing! And believe me, I am hooked!)

The front of the house, after we set it up for "curb appeal". Cute, huh?

It's a bit of a struggle for me. It's so hard to open what has been our home up as "just" a house. It's hard to not think that just because my house isn't right for that person, it isn't a rejection of me or my family. And every time someone calls to say, "Can I come take a look?" There is excitement there - "will this one be it?" - and fear anew. So it is not just business for us.

Praying Through the Day

Sometimes my children are my prayer. 

Aaaahhhh... The first 30 minutes of the day. Remember those moments when you were able to get up early, have a cup of coffee while the birds chirped outside and fall breezes rustled through the trees. A time of peace and quiet, when you could give your mind time to waken slowly and become alert before having to rush into the to-do list of the day.

Little Green Monster

I am a strong believer that God sends us messages, and sometimes, if we ignore His message, and it's really, really important that we listen, He says it a little stronger until we get the hint. Right? Right. Well, today is a very good example of why we should listen the first time. Read on, friends and you'll see exactly what I mean! Be forewarned though that drinking while you read this post might not be in the best interest of your computer and you may end up with a "message" of your own!

My story actually began two days ago. For the past two days, I have been very seriously contemplating whether or not to attend a church meeting taking place tonight. If I go, it will be really only to resign my position on the council in person vs. over e-mail or through snail mail alone.

Yesterday I waited for a message, but what I wanted to hear didn't come, so I second guessed what I thought of it all. Then this morning, I got up and our middle child - Smeagol - was ill with a fever. Hmmm... clue one, people. But... Papa is a good dad and can take care of a sick kid.

So to give myself a mental distraction, I pulled out my Little Green Clean Machine and used it to fulfill a promise made to Jeff just over a week ago: to steam clean the dining room chairs. My chairs are now drying and look so much better! In the meantime, Smeagol had a couple of Children's Tylenols and slept on the couch.

Then I got an e-mail about tonight's meeting. The way it is being set up, the meeting looks more like a lecture-to-be or a firing squad than any kind of a true meeting. This is not a very comforting thought - (let me be clear: this is clue 2.) But still I prayed and contemplated on, Lord, please give me some sign of whether I should go.

I did the dishes and began making lunch: a bit of rice for Smeagol and Miso Soup for the rest.

Then I came 'round the corner a short while later to see this:

This is my Little Green Monster, aka "Buttercup." She found all the rubber stamps and ink pads and went to town. Papa, before you panic, please know we cleaned up fast enough that none of it is on floor or furniture, etc. For the rest of the world, this is a sneaky and smart almost-two year old and what can happen in fewer than five minutes, even just after she has been fussed at for something else. Pop, also know that we have thrown out most, if not all, of the ink pads in the house now. Until I have a lock box for such items, nothing in the house is safe! I'll be getting one tonight or tomorrow. Trust me!

This, I suppose would be God getting a bit louder and more emphatic. I'm beginning to listen.

What I now perceive He is saying is,

Do go out tonight, but do not go to the church meeting. Nothing good awaits you

there. Instead, go to the mall, alone, and enjoy the peace of using the gift card

you've had for the last two months. Have a cup of coffee and sit and read a book.

In the meantime, know that this too will pass and you'll laugh at your hard-to-

manage smart almost-two year old that I've given you. Send a picture to your

parents and your in-laws so they can laugh at your predicament. Be blessed in

knowing that one day, this same daughter will have a child and will call you at 34

and ask you how to get ink out of a blouse - or a child's outfit - and you'll be able to say:

1. Divert your prayer attention from the church meeting to the clothes.
2. Spray hairspray on the stain.
3. Soak it for 30 minutes in a tub of water with laundry soap and a bit of white vinegar.
4. Try giving it a scrub. If the soap and vinegar don't work, allow it to dry
5. Then put a cloth with rubbing alcohol on the stain and let it sit. Rinse the cloth periodically as the stain is lifted.
6. Barring that, try resoaking for another 30 minutes in a tub of water, laundry soap and 1 Tablespoon of ammonia. But be careful, Grasshopper, ammonia can be a little tough on clothing fabric. Rinse the garment and let it dry.
7. Hopefully - with the prayer you were using for the upcoming church meeting diverted to the fabric, the stain will be removed by the above method.

After that, laugh. It is all that's left sometimes and you don't have to wait 30 years for that to happen. Time to e-mail Jeff that I'll be going to the mall tonight. Enjoy the laugh-for-the-day... On Me!

p.s. - having written this, Buttercup is now taking her nap and not getting into anything at all and Smeagol is playing in his room with Legos. Still slightly feverish, but clearly on the mend.

Whose blessings? His... or mine?

May I "dedicate" a blog post? Are there rules against that sort of thing? If there are, I reject them and dedicate this post to my mother. She has often used action, rather than words, to teach important lessons in life. Today I had the opportunity to use one of those lessons myself. I hope to one day find that my children are as moved and inspired by my deeds as I am by hers. So here is the story - and the lesson - behind my dedication.

I was in a Panera transcribing some interviews for the books I am working on. As I sat in one of the leather seats to the side of the restaurant, I had a plate of food next to me and was eating it a little at a time as I worked. Nothing much, half a sandwich, half a cup of soup, a coffee.

After being there for about 45 minutes, a man came over and sat down in the leather chair opposite mine. He had a tan canvas bag with him, somewhat frayed around the edges. He was wearing faded jeans, an old long-sleeved shirt on a day that was around 85, and no socks under his worn white tennis-shoes. He had a beard that was trimmed, but still scraggly -- longer than a goatee and more gray than black. His hair was similarly colored and just as unkempt, though he was not too dirty looking.

The man didn't say anything to me - he just sat and looked at some generic picture on the wall over my head. It wasn't a very exciting picture even, just something to look at while he contemplated... something. At the time, I had headphones on and was trying to focus on my work - the voices on this recording are particularly muffled in places and it has loud background noises in others. I felt rude sitting with my hands covering my headphones to block out as much ambient noise as I could.

It was hard to focus as the man sat across from me. Some part of me wondered whether he might need a bit of spare change for a meal. Various scenarios (excuses?) as to why I didn't need to talk to him or offer him a bit of kindness passed through my mind. Maybe he's just sitting there thinking of what he wants to order. I don't want to embarrass him by offering him money when he doesn't need any. Maybe... Maybe... Maybe he's just enjoying the air conditioning.

Yeah, I know, I was stretching on so much of this. Suddenly the man saved me from myself by getting up and going around the corner to order. Whew. He was just making a decision. In my heart, I knew I was wrong. I knew I should have and could have offered him the little $5 that I had. What really stopped me? Cowardice.

Knowing that my heart was speaking to me, even as I tried to ignore it, I jumped up to peek through the pillars toward the cash register where the man was making his order. How much did he have? Was he counting out change to pay for everything? Having lost my glasses over a month ago - and not taking the time to get the prescription renewed yet - I looked with squinty eyes, trying to tell what was going on.

I have countless stories of times when I have watched my mother as she offered a kind word, food or some recognition of humanity to someone often considered "less than." She and my sister came to visit us this past spring. One day, we were driving along and trying to decide what to do with the last two slices of pizza she was holding in the box on her lap. Wouldn't you know that just at that moment, we stopped at a red light and she happened to see a man getting ready to cross. He didn't look indigent or "in need," but he was pulling a suitcase behind him and looked a little haggard and tired. She offered him the last two slices of pizza and he accepted gratefully. As he left our car window, he seemed to move with a lighter step.

So there in the Panera, I said a little prayer (I'm fond of that these days): If I'm supposed to give that man this money, Lord, let him sit back in front of me with only water to drink. Then I'll offer him my money for coffee.

Sure enough, here came my man, tan bag, plate in hand, with a little freebie cup of water. He sat down and began to eat his toasted blueberry muffin and I searched myself for some way to open conversation without coming out and saying, "Hey, do you need some money?"

So finally, I said, "Their blueberry bagels are really good."

In a soft tone, characteristic of one who is down on his luck and who is trying not to come to the attention of the rest of society - one who has been scorned and ridiculed for who he has become, my man said quietly, "Yes, they are." His voice was so soft that I could barely hear him.

I (lamely) said, "My husband's favorites are the Asiago Cheese ones...." Just a nod this time, a small one. Lady, don't pity me. "Hey, do you want a cup of coffee to go with that? They're really good with a hot drink to go with them."

Again, barely audible, "Yes, thank you, I would." (Or I think that's what he said!)

I pulled out the money that I had gathered from my pockets a few minutes before, when I was snooping... uh, squinting through the pillars, and offered them to him. He rose and left his bag and plate while he went to buy his cup. He returned a moment later with an empty coffee cup in hand, the smallest size they sell, and offered me back my change. There is an honest man for you - take no more than you need...

During that same springtime visit with my mom, I was in the library at a meeting. Inside the meeting room, there were sandwiches and other goodies to eat that few people were partaking of. My mom sat outside in the lobby area reading books to our daughter and youngest son. As she sat there, a man who is often seen around town happened to walk in. My friends and I have seen him in the local bookstores as well. Often he appears dirty, he dresses differently than "the rest" of us; people tend to give him wide berth. My mother looked him in the eye and smiled. She asked him if he was hungry, did he need or want something to eat? As it happened, he thanked her and said he was okay, and I had seen a TV interview of him online just a short time before. He is not homeless, nor is he penniless, but he does have a disability and he uses biking around town and wearing unusual outfits to help with his uncontrollable tendencies. How many of us, though, think to even ask? How many of us fail to offer that kindness simply because we are unsure, embarrassed or ... (insert 100 different reasons here.) She has shown me that same example through the years.

I have no excuse - my example has been set for me many times.

My Panera Man sat and enjoyed the steaming coffee and the bagel, rose and left without another word to me. He did not want my pity or charity, he asked me for nothing. But I was blessed by the encounter. I was reminded of what I have to offer and that I am obligated to do so. In the end, it is up to the individual to decide who was more blessed by the encounter: the Panera Man... or me?