Ezekiel 2:6,7 "And you, son of man, neither fear them nor fear their words, though thistles and thorns are with you and you sit on scorpions, neither fear their words nor be dismayed at their presence, for they are a rebellious house. But you shall speak My words to them WHETHER THEY LISTEN OR NOT, for they are a rebellious."
Sabina Wurmbrand, from A PASTOR'S WIFE sure came to mind when I read that verse this morning. What a brave woman to speak God's Words to her prison guards and interrogators and to her fellow prisoners.
And as moms, we need reminding that we answer to God, and He would have us speak His Words, whether they listen or not.
Please give me Your Words, Lord, and season my tone of voice with Your Passion, Your Desire, and Your Inflection. Make my face reflect those words, and make Your Love shine through. In Jesus name. Amen.
I have to believe that the entire Old Testament was committed to Jesus' memory as He grew and walked on this earth. He was Perfect and took God's direction from Scripture. They were His marching orders, His comfort, and His confidence. And when Jesus read and committed to memory these words, He was given the courage to stand up to the Pharisees and all those who had misread and misapplied Scripture. And if/when He sat on a scorpion, I doubt it stung Him. We stung Him when He died for us on the Cross.
And I was surprised to find this verse in the Old Testament. Oft quoted at funerals, I thought it was a New Testament verse. Hosea 13:14 "O Death, where are your thorns? O Sheol, where is your sting? Compassion will be hidden from My sight."
Showing posts with label mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mom. Show all posts
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Gotta Blog
Gotta Blog. Gotta Blog, Gotta Blog, Gotta Blog.
I am a mom. A stay-at-home mom. Except when I need groceries, and to mail a package. Then I venture out. I drive slowly. I notice the blooming trees. I drive carefully, trying not to tick off the rest of the population who are all obviously going to a fire. I watch out for those who mumble to themselves while driving, yakking on a cell phone.
I don't usually use the other post office, but it was on the way to the grocery store du jour. My package was all stamped and ready to go. I turned right on the street to the post office and glanced ahead to the drive of the post office and drive up boxes, and noticed a man in a dualie struggling to turn it around and exit the drive I was approaching. Those double-wide huge pick up trucks with two back wheels on each side, and a long, long frame---he needed a huge turning ratio. So, I slowed. I hung back and gave him a healthy, respectful distance. The driver was doing his best to back and quickly swing it around. I don't know if he just is not used to courtesy or what, but, (and I am still blown away by what he did next) HE BLEW ME A KISS !!!!!!!!
WoW. In this world where most folks will flip you their middle finger, or frown or sneer or shake their head at my pokey driving, this gentleman in baseball cap and so busy he had not been by the barber in a while---this gentleman BLEW ME A KISS !!! How awesome is that??!! How often does that happen in this day of gloom and doom, and strangers, and suspicious persons, and recession, and high gas prices, and chin hairs?? It made my day. Made my heart soar. I wanted to burst out crying. But, I dutifully waved, and pushed my package into the box, and drove on down the road to Tom Thumb, where the folks are friendly, and the checker seems to care that I found everything. And where I have somehow made some magic list so that I don't have to pull out my drivers license and give a blood sample.
He blew me a kiss. The kind I give my boys, and my husband as they drive away. The kind I give my nephews, and niece. His momma raised him right. Wow.
How often do my sons blow someone a kiss in traffic?? Not in sarcasm nor criticism of their driving, nor in flirting---but just to make someones day. Did I raise my sons right? To be thoughtful and kind to some old gray-haired lady who once drove a tractor on a farm, and knows to give big vehicles a wide berth.
Bless him, Lord. Thank you for that wonderful gesture that we need more of these days. I would not have been out and about if it had not been for my son wanting to feed his buddies for lunch today before they practice and drill at the park. I am so glad my son wants to invite his Army buddies home for lunch. These days are numbered. My son's orders read May 18th. Mother's Day this year means a college graduate, and newly commissioned Army second lieutenant, and much celebration with friends and family. But Mother's Day also brings this year an empty nest.
I am a mom. A stay-at-home mom. Except when I need groceries, and to mail a package. Then I venture out. I drive slowly. I notice the blooming trees. I drive carefully, trying not to tick off the rest of the population who are all obviously going to a fire. I watch out for those who mumble to themselves while driving, yakking on a cell phone.
I don't usually use the other post office, but it was on the way to the grocery store du jour. My package was all stamped and ready to go. I turned right on the street to the post office and glanced ahead to the drive of the post office and drive up boxes, and noticed a man in a dualie struggling to turn it around and exit the drive I was approaching. Those double-wide huge pick up trucks with two back wheels on each side, and a long, long frame---he needed a huge turning ratio. So, I slowed. I hung back and gave him a healthy, respectful distance. The driver was doing his best to back and quickly swing it around. I don't know if he just is not used to courtesy or what, but, (and I am still blown away by what he did next) HE BLEW ME A KISS !!!!!!!!
WoW. In this world where most folks will flip you their middle finger, or frown or sneer or shake their head at my pokey driving, this gentleman in baseball cap and so busy he had not been by the barber in a while---this gentleman BLEW ME A KISS !!! How awesome is that??!! How often does that happen in this day of gloom and doom, and strangers, and suspicious persons, and recession, and high gas prices, and chin hairs?? It made my day. Made my heart soar. I wanted to burst out crying. But, I dutifully waved, and pushed my package into the box, and drove on down the road to Tom Thumb, where the folks are friendly, and the checker seems to care that I found everything. And where I have somehow made some magic list so that I don't have to pull out my drivers license and give a blood sample.
He blew me a kiss. The kind I give my boys, and my husband as they drive away. The kind I give my nephews, and niece. His momma raised him right. Wow.
How often do my sons blow someone a kiss in traffic?? Not in sarcasm nor criticism of their driving, nor in flirting---but just to make someones day. Did I raise my sons right? To be thoughtful and kind to some old gray-haired lady who once drove a tractor on a farm, and knows to give big vehicles a wide berth.
Bless him, Lord. Thank you for that wonderful gesture that we need more of these days. I would not have been out and about if it had not been for my son wanting to feed his buddies for lunch today before they practice and drill at the park. I am so glad my son wants to invite his Army buddies home for lunch. These days are numbered. My son's orders read May 18th. Mother's Day this year means a college graduate, and newly commissioned Army second lieutenant, and much celebration with friends and family. But Mother's Day also brings this year an empty nest.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Motherhood
Thirty years ago, we got married. Twenty-seven years ago, I entered motherhood. And I am convinced that once a mom, always a mom. Motherhood is such a hands on job, and while I had great teachers, I enjoyed reading everything I could about the subject.
I have been labeled a very overprotective mom. Call me worst-case-scenerio mom. Its a badge I wear with honor. Its a compliment. While my three boys suffered the usual ear infections, and broken bones from climbing---one on Ronald McDonald, and on a jungle gym (no longer found on most playgrounds)--one off a swing at the park, one off a junior bed, one off a chair at Sunday School, one off a swing at camp. I only remember one trip to the emergency room for stitches, when the youngest was horsing around in the youth Sunday School room with a board, a table and a girl.
Even without children in residence or underfoot, I now view the whole world through the eyes of a mom. It is like we are issued the eyes of a mom when the sperm and egg are joined at conception. Maybe the eyes of a mom develop with baby dolls, and babysitting. And I did lots and lots of babysitting. First, with my younger brothers, then neighborhood children at fifty cents and hour, and even after I had a job as an orthodontist assistant, I babysat for my bosses' children.
Even during those babysitting days, little boys were easier to babysit. They entertained themselves pretty well with toy cars and tools. Baby girls were different. Little girls like to talk.
And while other people's children's diapers could make me gag, once I had my own, there was nothing gross or too hard to do. I was not raised around bugs--roaches, in particular. But, the south has an overabundance, and before kids, I would scream like a girl when confronted by a "water bug" (roach big enough to ride). But, after my firstborn was in my arms, I could stomp cockroaches like a pro. The mother hen in me rose up to protect my baby. And that mother hen in me has never left.
I wear my now grown sons out with admonishments to wear a hat, and "don't forget your coat" and "did you close and lock the front door?" My mother trained me well. Most illness can be traced back to a problem with elimination. And low-flow toilets don't help big boys and their big boy poops. Fiber is our friend. Are you drinking enough water???
Anita Renfroe did a great rendition of what all a mom says in the course of a day set to the tune of the William Tell overture. So many of my phrases will resound through my sons brains for years to come--and hopefully said unto their dear children, or discarded as no longer applicable as they study the latest in science and health.
Mom is a verb. It is what we do. It is how we think. It is my signature. I will step in if I sense a child in danger. For instance, at a store, if there is an unaccompanied child...look out.
When I worked in the lunchroom at my sons' elementary school for a few years, it seemed so natural to perform the Heimlich maneuver on a boy choking on a piece of Halloween candy. I had read about it, and with the literature also warned how it sometimes causes the child to throw up. The school nurse was so impressed that she contacted the newspapers and city hall. I was just being a mom.
Motherhood also brought me back to my faith. More about that next post.
I have been labeled a very overprotective mom. Call me worst-case-scenerio mom. Its a badge I wear with honor. Its a compliment. While my three boys suffered the usual ear infections, and broken bones from climbing---one on Ronald McDonald, and on a jungle gym (no longer found on most playgrounds)--one off a swing at the park, one off a junior bed, one off a chair at Sunday School, one off a swing at camp. I only remember one trip to the emergency room for stitches, when the youngest was horsing around in the youth Sunday School room with a board, a table and a girl.
Even without children in residence or underfoot, I now view the whole world through the eyes of a mom. It is like we are issued the eyes of a mom when the sperm and egg are joined at conception. Maybe the eyes of a mom develop with baby dolls, and babysitting. And I did lots and lots of babysitting. First, with my younger brothers, then neighborhood children at fifty cents and hour, and even after I had a job as an orthodontist assistant, I babysat for my bosses' children.
Even during those babysitting days, little boys were easier to babysit. They entertained themselves pretty well with toy cars and tools. Baby girls were different. Little girls like to talk.
And while other people's children's diapers could make me gag, once I had my own, there was nothing gross or too hard to do. I was not raised around bugs--roaches, in particular. But, the south has an overabundance, and before kids, I would scream like a girl when confronted by a "water bug" (roach big enough to ride). But, after my firstborn was in my arms, I could stomp cockroaches like a pro. The mother hen in me rose up to protect my baby. And that mother hen in me has never left.
I wear my now grown sons out with admonishments to wear a hat, and "don't forget your coat" and "did you close and lock the front door?" My mother trained me well. Most illness can be traced back to a problem with elimination. And low-flow toilets don't help big boys and their big boy poops. Fiber is our friend. Are you drinking enough water???
Anita Renfroe did a great rendition of what all a mom says in the course of a day set to the tune of the William Tell overture. So many of my phrases will resound through my sons brains for years to come--and hopefully said unto their dear children, or discarded as no longer applicable as they study the latest in science and health.
Mom is a verb. It is what we do. It is how we think. It is my signature. I will step in if I sense a child in danger. For instance, at a store, if there is an unaccompanied child...look out.
When I worked in the lunchroom at my sons' elementary school for a few years, it seemed so natural to perform the Heimlich maneuver on a boy choking on a piece of Halloween candy. I had read about it, and with the literature also warned how it sometimes causes the child to throw up. The school nurse was so impressed that she contacted the newspapers and city hall. I was just being a mom.
Motherhood also brought me back to my faith. More about that next post.
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