Blog Archives

The Moon isn't as far as Jupiter

6/30/2015

While recovering at home from surgery, my youngest son always found a way to make me smile even when I didn't feel like it. He's the affectionate one, so hugs and kisses from him are the norm. One evening, the hug was accompanied by his declaration of love.

"Mommy, I love you to Jupiter and back."
I responded in kind, with a kiss no less, "I love you to the moon and back."

He looked confused and disappointed then responded, "You know Jupiter is farther than the moon, right?"

He was right. I had returned his intergalactic declaration of love with a love that only reached the moon. That wasn't a fair trade. He had stated (first!) that he loved me a LOT and I stated that I loved him LESS. No wonder he was hurt and confused.

I wonder if that's how God feels when we don't counter His love the same way. He gave us the very best heaven had to offer, His son Jesus. He declared His love in the most personal, heartfelt way and yet our lives often reflect the "Jupiter vs the moon" scenario that I had with my son.

He gives us the best; we give Him less than.
His love runs from A to Z; ours stops at F.
He loves us to Jupiter; We love Him to the moon.

Whether it's in our worship or benevolence or, quite frankly, our disposition; we knowingly fall short of the opportunities to give Him the service and glory He deserves. When we sin, we turn our backs on His love.

Certainly we understand that we can never match God's love. He's never asked for (or expected) a tit-for-tat response to His blessings. We couldn't reciprocate if we tried. Yet, our inability to match His amazing grace shouldn't deter us from living our best lives and honoring Him daily. Still, we often unpack our bags in the abounding grace when we were only meant to stop there momentarily.

He's given us access to eternal salvation through His son Jesus who came from heaven down to earth to make the ultimate sacrifice for our transgressions. Let's not respond to that ultimate gift with a flippant love that only meets Him at the driveway.

0 Comments

Lord, this can't be right. Can it?

6/26/2015

0 Comments

I was leaving the children’s hospital with my oldest son after seeking emergency treatment for an asthma episode. It had been a long afternoon and all we both wanted to do was get out of there and go home. We got in the van, I reversed the car and started to drive toward the exit sign which was toward the upper incline of the building. Noah asked why we were driving “up” further into the garage when the exit was clearly on the lower level. I explained in order to get out, we had to go up.

Being five-years-old, he said, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Like all mothers who think their kids are brilliant, I knew my little genius wasn’t going to be easily convinced. He sat up and started looking at the signs to see if I was driving the correct way. Again he asked why we would have to go through the upper levels to get to the lower levels?
I explained that’s just the way the garage is built. Trust me, I said.

Sure enough, he saw for himself the signs that pointed to the exit took us up before it eventually took us out. There were curves and sharp corners, but we just followed the signs until we got to the exit. Finally, sunlight!

I have found myself in many messed up situations over the years and had to pray for God’s guidance and direction. The funny thing is, when He responds to my prayer, it’s almost never how I expected. God’s deliverance may seem confusing. It may seem inconsistent and almost crazy at times, but just go with Him. We can’t possibly comprehend what God is doing in our lives – or why.

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55:8-9

In order for Noah to get out of that garage and get home, he had to trust the one driving him.
When we’re riding with the Lord, we have to do the same thing. Sit up and pay attention. Just follow the signs (even the confusing ones) and you will eventually find the exit from your messed up situation.

(Written Friday, March 29, 2013)

0 Comments

How to Raise a President

6/25/2015

0 Comments

I'm in the middle of reading “First Mothers – the Women who shaped the Presidents” by Bonnie Angelo. Great insight into these remarkable women whose sons grew up to be Commander in Chief. What I’m finding is that most of these never dreamed of the presidency for their children. They certainly dreamed of leadership roles in their respective communities, but never the highest office in the land. They just worked diligently, sometimes at the expense of their own marriages or their own happiness, to educate their boys hoping for respectable, career-ready young men.

The book is filled with excerpts from letters exchanged between the mothers and sons. They are so heartfelt and personal that I’ve become emotional reading the words, in some cases, almost 100 years later.

I can't remember the last time I've written in my sons' journals.

This book is helping me re-evaluate my commitment to my own sons. Of course, I think I’m doing some good things. But I am doing enough? I’m not sure we can ever know. Have I thoughtfully detailed their strengths enough to cultivate them? Have I witnessed enough of their shortcomings to help my boys overcome them – or at least minimize the impact of such flaws on their overall development?

The opportunity to parent a child is a privilege. I am recommitted to making the most of the three wonderful opportunities I have to guide my child on the path toward fulfillment, character, and self-sufficiency.

And, maybe raising a President isn't out of the question.....
(originally written Feb 14, 2013)

0 Comments

Making myself watch the news

6/18/2015

0 Comments

Last night before I went to sleep, I heard the news of a church shooting in Charleston, South Carolina. In my newsfeed, I read the words “multiple victims, multiple fatalities” and my heart sank. I didn’t click any of the links. I couldn’t. Not until this morning when I was more prepared to process what had happened.

Before learning of the massacre, I had just gotten home from midweek Bible class with my own children. Two hours earlier, we had just been sitting in an old church building in separate rooms studying with our respective teachers. Aside from wondering if the boys had remembered to bring their homework, they were far from my thoughts.

Why? We did this every Wednesday. We walk from the parking lot into the halls toward our classes. We say a casual “See you later” mixed with a “Don’t run in this building.” We meet an hour later when classes are dismissed, say a few goodbyes to friends and my parents, catch up with a few other families and we leave. That’s it. That’s our routine and likely the routine of many midweek bible class attendees, including the members of Emanuel AME Church in Charleston.

Last night changed that. Someone had walked into that bible class and opened fire on the members, killing them at random while they worshipped. How was this possible? Who would do that?

I suppose once you decide to murder innocent people choosing which is the appropriate setting in which to commit the crime is beside the point.

But the church? A place whose very existence is built upon the premise of restoration.

The church. Their hallowed ground. Members and their pastor murdered in their church.
That’s the part that I can’t get past.
In their church. The place where come for peace, direction and edification.
Their church. That’s the part that keeps the tears coming.

That and the reminder of all the times I’ve wandered aimlessly round the church building never thinking that danger could be lurking from someone with the worst intentions.

Oh, the anguish of every member when the first shot rang out! What must they have thought as the processed confusion followed by the realization that some evil person was firing at their members, including dear friends and relatives, in another part of their building?

That’s why I didn’t watch the news last night. I couldn’t. It was too much to process. Too close to my own reality. I wanted church massacres to remain an unimaginable thing that was far, far away from my thoughts.

It breaks my heart that houses of worship, like schools, are no longer places where safety can be assumed. Nope. Not anymore.

Now off to watch more this devastating news even though I don’t want to.

0 Comments

Dear Rachel

6/12/2015

0 Comments

Dominating the news today is the revelation that Rachel Dolezal, President of the Spokane Branch of the NAACP and longtime activist, has been “passing” herself off as Black. She’s apparently not, at least according to her White parents. She just wants to be black.

She has a lengthy history of activism for justice and equality, and, by all accounts, is doing a fine job as the Spokane, Washington leader of the nation’s oldest civil rights organization. A heart for justice issues is usually born from experience or deep compassion and is rarely contrived as a way to advance one’s self in another culture. This makes the revelation, and the underlying decision to pretend, that much more perplexing. Why pretend? I don’t understand. Should Black women be offended or flattered?

Did she think that as a White woman she couldn’t have worked with the Black community to help advance civil rights issues? That’s almost an insult to the countless members of other ethnic groups who marched alongside Blacks in the height of the Civil Rights Movement decades ago to assume that equality only matters to Black folk.

I think her pretending is actually counterproductive to her alleged desire to move others across the nation toward a better understanding of the issues that many minorities continue to face.

Another point of contention for me: Just exactly how was she pretending to be Black? Was she speaking with a certain dialect? Did she live in certain neighborhoods? Was her hair combed in a particular style? Did she eat certain foods? Based on early reports of her revelation, one could presume that she handpicked certain stereotypes and starting “acting” Black. And, of course, if you’re Black, you have to join the NAACP!

The final part that bothers is me is her being "Black" in Washington state. While racial disparities exist everywhere, I'm thinking Spokane isn't exactly the bastion of racial conflict, especially considering when there are still Confederate battle flags flying across many states in the Union.

So, I have a letter for Ms. Dolezal. Perhaps someone can pass it along.
    Dear Rachel,
I applaud anyone who wants to help promote social justice and equality. So, please come be “Black” in the South. Be forewarned, it’s probably a little different than being “Black” in the Pacific Northwest but you’ll get used to it. Or not. Anyway, come on. We’re waiting.
    Sincerely,
    Shay

0 Comments

Who's Shay?

Shay is a married, working mother of three boys whose interests range from politics to sports to cupcake tasting to classic television. She's seen every episode of "Friends" and "A Different World" and searches for "Law & Order" whenever she has the remote. Insightful and perplexed, Shay writes when her heart is full. Some are based on her Christian faith; others on her whimsical observations of life. The power of the pen gives her peace keeping her grounded in a challenging, overwhelming yet fulfilling world. All writings have copyright protection. Writings from a previous blog are being combined into this one.

The Moon isn't as far as Jupiter

Lord, this can't be right. Can it?

How to Raise a President

Making myself watch the news

Dear Rachel

Who's Shay?

Archives

Categories