Saturday, December 11, 2010

Broken Drum

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Come, they told me – pa rum pum pum pum…

I see the appeal to help orphans, and my heart cries. I want to be there. I should be there.

A newborn king to see – pa rum pum pum pum…

I read of mission doctors giving their own blood in primitive conditions. I want to be there. I should be there.

Our finest gifts we bring – pa rum pum pum pum…

I look at lists of random acts of kindness I can do right here in my own hometown. I want to do this. I should do this.

To lay before the King – pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum , rum pum pum pum…

I look around me. People with lots more kids, lots less “free” time, are doing so much.

So to honor Him – pa rum pum pum pum…

When we come.

What’s wrong with me? I feel busy all the time, but I’m only running in circles. I want to focus on others, but I can barely get MYSELF out of the house in the morning.

I can barely get to the “COME” stage. It seems that’s all I’ve got, God.

I have no gift to bring – pa rum pum pum pum…

I don’t know who I am. Where I belong. What I should do.

That’s fit to give the King – pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum , rum pum pum pum…

“You are a child of God.” I KNOW this. “You don’t need to be in a special place, under special circumstances, to serve God.” I KNOW this.  But the knowledge isn’t translating into anything.

Shall I play for You – pa rum pum pum pum…

Right here? Right now?

On my drum?

Show me how, God! I don’t know how to play my best. I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how.

My drum is broken, God…

Friday, November 26, 2010


My three-year-old woke up one night, moaning, “I don’t want to be…!  I don’t want to be…!” over and over. 

Something just wasn’t quite right, but in her sleep-fogged state, she couldn’t verbalize exactly what it was.

So I held her, in spite of her kicking and thrashing, reassuring her that things would look better in the morning.

I cry to God, “I don’t want to be!  I don’t want to be!  If this is what life is like, I don’t want to be!”

He holds me in my sin-fogged state, though I push him away. 

“Relax!  Just rest in My arms,” He tells me.  “You’ll see clearly in the morning.”


Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Cataloging My Blog

INadequate to keep up with the juggling,
INebriated from lack of sleep, I find I’m
INeffective in changing the world -
INsufficient in even the little things, in spite of my
INtense efforts.

INjuries in hidden places make me
INattentive to the needs around me.

INhibited I am from baring my soul, yet
INdebted beyond repay, I
INtroduce my
INside to the outside again.

INspired to try again, but in desperate need of
INdwelling Presence to
INflame me.

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Inspired by The High Calling’s post on catalog poetry and joining in with Mrs. Scribe’s Poetry Slam.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010


Once upon a time there were four groups of people:
  1. Those who made their own whole wheat bread
  2. Those who made their own white bread
  3. Those who bought whole wheat bread
  4. Those who bought white bread
(This makes a really nice matrix if you want to put it on a chalkboard.)

Because it's really hard work to make your own bread, those who made their own bread formed a support group. As long as they were discussing where to buy pans and which ovens worked best, and how much yeast they used and how long they baked the bread, and even how terribly sad it is that some people buy bread, they were happy.

Now, all the studies show that the people who make their own whole wheat bread live longest. It's the right thing to do. God tells us to take care of our bodies, after all – you could even say our bodies are the temple of God.

One day, several of the group started discussing a recipe that included white flour.  So some of those who make their own whole wheat bread decided they needed to encourage the whole homemaking group to a higher standard.

"Wait a minute!" cried the white bread makers. "It's what we can afford! It's way better than store-bought – no preservatives! We add in wheat germ, and flax seed! It's easier to make into the shapes that are important to OUR family! Besides, we use freshly-ground almond butter on ours, and you're using margarine, and we know margarine is dreadful for the body! How dare you judge? I thought we were here to support each other."

"How dare you judge us for judging you?" the first group cried back. "We are working so hard to provide only the best for our own families. We want only the best for you, too! And we need a little support of our own. I think we should change this support group into one that is specifically for people who make whole wheat bread. Everyone else is welcome, as long as they don't object to our standards or bring up white flour at all."

Some people who were just learning how to make bread gave up – because it was too much work to get it right.  And they didn't like all the judging and fighting.

And those who made their bread using part wheat and part white wondered what the first group thought of them.

And those who bought bread mix and baked it at home wondered where they fit in.

Those who bought rye bread because of wheat allergies (and because rye bread is REALLY hard to make at home) thankfully had no clue all this was going on.

We're not even going to mention those poor souls who bought white bread. Because we don't know their story at all. We don't know if they filled it with avocado and sprouts and made sure they take a multivitamin every day.

(Did I mention the government subsidized white flour in its evil quest to shorten our lives, so it's cheaper than whole wheat?)

And the little group who made their own whole wheat bread? Well, some of them used a bread machine. Some of them used a bread mixer. Some of them milled their own flour. The ones who grew their own wheat? Well, everyone knows organic is best, local is even better, and hard work is good for the body and soul. So they decided to encourage their little group to a higher standard.

Not too far away, there were people with no bread. They starved while the little group worked out its standards.

Jesus said, "Feed my sheep."

The End.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Blue Monday: Bucket

Asking is the beginning of receiving. Make sure you don't go to the ocean with a teaspoon. At least take a bucket so the kids won't laugh at you.
~Jim Rohn

Sunday, October 3, 2010

The Vine

“I am the vine; you are the branches…”

Our grape vines are prolific – more fruit than we know what to do with, year after year.  Whether we prune them or not, water them or not, talk to them or not.

Until this year.

I guess it’s my fault.  I hadn’t gotten around to pruning them, though I am the self-educated grape vine pruner in our house.  So husband organized someone else to do it who had never pruned grapes before.

They were WELL pruned.  Nothing left but the vines.  No branches at all.

Come summer, they grew prolifically.  Loads of foliage, lush and and beautiful and green.

No grapes.

Makes me wonder about this whole vine analogy. 

Yes, as branches we need to be grafted into the vine in order to bear fruit.  But does God need us?  If all His branches are pruned away, what is the result?  Does He work so hard to redeem us because He needs us?


Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Wordless Wednesday: Band-Aid

Fall seven times, stand up eight. -- Japanese Proverb
For more Wordless Wednesdays, visit

2/365: Scale

God, this thing isn’t glistening for me.  No matter how much Windex I use.

Yet I’m kinda stuck on it for this Faith Dare thing.

So could You like, do something about it?  Please?

I gotta move on…

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

1/365: Flame

Umm – today was supposed to be Esmé’s first ballet class, so my first shot in the 365 Project was supposed to be memorable…

But plans change, kids get sick, and life requires flexibility.

So let’s take out our brand new point-and-shoot, figure out how to get the battery charged and how to turn the thing on, and see what we get!

Ah hah!  Flame cat!  Sleeping in the doll’s cradle!  Definitely makes me happy.  He’s a glistener, all right.
And the camera works!  Now, to check out the manual…

Tuesday, August 10, 2010



“I don’t like kiwi!”

This said by three-year-old as she cried in protest at my cruel and unusual punishment…

I’ve been pretty lax on the healthy-eating principles with my child – I’ve always wanted food and eating to be a non-issue for her.  God knows it’s been a huge issue for me.

My past MO has been to put a plate of colorful, relatively healthy options in front of her and let her have at it.  No stress over what she does or doesn’t eat.

The result?  A carb-lover extraordinaire.  She hates almost all fruits and veggies.  She’ll occasionally eat a few bites of apples, grapes, watermelon, or a bite of banana, but that’s about it for fruit.  And on the veggie side, it’s occasionally carrots, broccoli, corn, and cucumber.  No interest whatsoever in anything else.

Enough is enough already!  I decided it’s time to start the courtesy-bite concept – try at least one bite of everything on your plate.  It can be a small bite, and you don’t have to eat anything more if you don’t like it, I say.

Enter the kiwi.  Which, by the way, had been approved by three-year-old as a grocery cart addition at Costco.  I try to go through her approval process as much as possible while shopping to avoid future battles…

But this kiwi just did not cut it.  The two little chunks on her plate had her running the other direction.

I stuck one chunk on her fork.  Come on, eat it!  Get it over with!  Then we can play and do fun activities.

NO!  Tears and sobs commence.

Time out, then – let’s go!  More tears and sobs.

Why do I have to eat it?

Because it’s good for you. you need to learn to try new things, you need to be polite and eat a tiny bit, and you need to eat HEALTHY food.  Lots of reasons.


We battle for more than two hours.  I think of all the fun things I had planned for the day.  I actually had all the activities lined up and ready to go this time.

PLEASE, I plead, just take a bite!  It’s just a little thing!  Once you’ve finished, we can have fun!

FINALLY, we negotiate.  I cut one of the little chunks into thirds, and she eats one third.  No more tears!  All is forgotten!

Why do I ask God for the opportunity to do big things, and balk at the little things


Monday, August 9, 2010


My little 3-year-old is most generous with her hugs.

Some are a tad bit disconcerting. She runs and runs and runs after a boy until he finally allows himself to be caught, and then she wraps her little arms around him, squeezing him tight while his eyes dart around the room, looking for something or someone to rescue him, hoping his image isn't tarnished forever.

Mostly, though, her hugs are little prizes; blessings bestowed on the participants who make her world a brighter place.

She spontaneously hugs a new friend goodbye, then wraps her arms around the friend's mama, too, as if to say, "Thank you for sharing your little girl with me today! She's my new BEST friend!"

Or she wraps her arms around the legs of a new "teacher," sharing her gratitude for the teacher's time and also saying in a way - "I may not do everything you tell me to do, but don't take it personally - I like YOU!"

My little girl lavishes her love on us, and boy, does it feel good when she does.

How much greater is our Father's love for us, lavished on us through the life of Jesus Christ...

Sunday, August 8, 2010


Is 20 minutes of time worth $50?

I locked the keys the car while stepping out to the ATM yesterday. Husband was out of cell phone range, so my only recourse was to call the locksmith. And wait 20 minutes.

I had just been thinking about how my To Do list isn't necessarily God's plan for me - so now was the time to put things to the test.

I grabbed a blended mocha from Dutch Brothers - a treat I haven't afforded in ages. Then I sat on the car bumper, doing a little surreptitious people-watching (trying not to look like I was casing the people visiting the ATM).

OK, God - what do You have planned for me here?

Is there someone You have destined me to meet here? Someone I can speak to on Your behalf?

Nope - nobody special showed up. Nothing profound happened.

$50 was an expensive price to pay - for a moment of absent-mindedness on my part.

But I DID get something out of it. TWENTY minutes of time. With nothing pressing - no list of things I SHOULD be doing - because I COULDN'T do anything - except wait.

I looked at is as a gift, and that made all the difference.

Saturday, August 7, 2010


There is not one blade of grass,
there is no color in this world
that is not intended to make us rejoice.
~John Calvin

For more colorful photos, check PhotoHunt.

To Do List


That is one of the items on my To Do list.

Don't knock it - if it wasn't on there, it would never happen. You've gotta prioritize and schedule in the important stuff...

Though checking it off the list always seems a little odd.

What do I do if God's will for my life today differs from my To Do list?

Would I even know? Or am I too absorbed in checking the next thing off?

What is my priority?

Am I willing to follow Christ at the expense of my To Do list?

In practical terms, can I keep the grumpies at bay when husband asks me to do something not on the list? When little girlie demands my time even though the vacuuming is the next thing up? When slow traffic impedes my commute to work?

Can I wait with a happy heart when things don't go according to MY plan?

Friday, August 6, 2010


Ahhh - a nectarine!

Summer flavor assaulting the tastebuds;
juice dripping down the chin.

Bite into it.


Is this the state of my heart?
Not a heart of stone (well, maybe a little one in the center).
But a soft, dry, tasteless (bruised) one.

Good from outward appearance,
until one gets too close and finds disappointment.

"Create in me a new heart, O God, and restore a right spirit within me."