To Be Like a Fly

A week ago I mentioned watching a fly for fifteen minutes. Have you ever done that? Just sat there and watched a fly? They're actually pretty cool. This particular fly was on my windshield. He sat directly in my line of sight while I began the monotonous trip home from Philadelphia.

I didn't want to flip the wipers and smear bug guts all over the window, so instead I played a sadistic game of testing his strength. I watched him intently while speeding through residential streets en route to the highway, waiting for him to flutter off into oblivion. He didn't budge. I suspected he was dead, but no; I saw him wash his filthy little face at the red light.

As a side note, does anyone else find it ironic that flies who typically buzz around garbage or feces are still concerned with personal hygiene? Of course, he could have just been licking his lips. I may be giving him more credit than he's due.

The light turned green, so I began my fun little game again. This time I watched my speed, too. Ten miles per hour; nothing. Fifteen miles per hour; still nothing. Around twenty miles per hour I saw him hunker down closer to the windshield, but then I caught another red light.

Now this was interesting: while we were stopped, he shifted his position. Up to this point he had been kind of diagonal on the windshield. Now he moved to align his weird little fly body his with his head straight down (toward the hood) and his derriere up (toward the roof of the car -- yes, I still refuse to call my vehicle a "van").

With his new position, this little bugger held on until almost seventy miles per hour! I'm not exactly sure where I lost him; I was trying to watch traffic, too, but I know it was somewhere between fifty and seventy-five. Isn't that amazing? His little fly feet could hold him tight against glass, a surface with no traction, while facing a wind resistance up to seventy miles per hour!

We need to have faith like fly feet.

"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful." - Hebrews 10:23 (NIV)

Have you ever let go of your faith? Maybe not your faith, but your convictions. I tend to think if everything is going smoothly, then I must be doing what God wants. When the first big wind comes, I doubt what I thought to be true. I'm not talking about abandoning my beliefs or Scriptural truths, but rather what I think God wants me to do -- this ministry or that, this path or the one over there. When resistance comes, rarely is my first thought to hunker down and cling tighter to my convictions. Instead I think "Well, I must have been wrong" and I let go.

I know I'm fallible and God is not. Who am I to believe I can fully understand His wishes for me? But who am I to think I deserve a smooth ride just for doing what He asks?

So this is what I've learned from a fly:

Hunker Down: When resistance comes, cling tighter to what I know to be true. Hebrews 10:22 says "let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith," (NIV). We don't hold tight because of arrogance or pride, but rather, as The Amplified version states, an "unqualified assurance and absolute conviction engendered by faith." Trials naturally bring doubts, but we cannot allow resistance to make us doubt what we know to be true. Draw nearer to God to solidify your faith and those absolute convictions.

Best Positioning: We are fallible. We make mistakes. Sometimes we need to reposition ourselves to better handle resistance. If we're not aligned with God, we won't be as aerodynamic as we ought to be; we'll make ourselves an easier target, suceptible to failure. Instead, if we set ourselves up for success (by walking with God and eliminating distractions), we can make it possible through the power of the One capable of ensuring it.

I would like to add that it's okay to fail. Unfortunately, my illustration doesn't go that far. My fly friend may be plastered on the grill of whatever car was behind me. Good thing God loves us more than flies (Matthew 6).

So what have you learned from unexpected sources?

Flat-footed measles patient

I have probably four different posts rolling around in my head, good posts about spiritual lessons and deep insights, but instead I figured today I would regale you with child-induced injuries I've acquired. I'm not talking about the stretch marks or other fun side effects of becoming a mother. I'm talking about the battle wounds of being a mother. Still don't know what I'm talking about? It's dangerous playing with kids! Just this week I've gotten a flattened foot, a hole in the head and a bump on the nose.

Maybe moms aren't supposed to play like I do. (There certainly were several moms who watched with shock as I rolled at break-neck speeds down the big hill in front of our church.) Maybe our bodies are beyond the point of surviving childhood games. (Said mothers also laughed heartily as I nearly broke my neck crashing into the concrete bench at the bottom of said hill.) Thinking like that just makes me feel old. I'm only 31, people! I should be able to splash in puddles without getting stares, right? And people shouldn't think me strange for climbing trees. (That is until later when they witness me walking "with a hitch in my get-along" from straining my groin getting up there.)

Maybe I'm just unlucky. Take the hole in the head and the bump on the nose. The bump on the nose was absolutely no fault of mine. I was outside talking with a friend and watching the kids thoroughly enjoy the playground when a bee came out of nowhere and stung me on the nose. I haven't been stung by a bee since I was ten years old! So now I look like Rudolph.

A flat-footed Rudolph. Oh, I didn't mention the Jeep running over my foot? Yup. A big pink PowerWheels Jeep driven by two four-year-olds. We are in so much trouble when these girls are old enough to get a license. So, yeah, a flat-footed Rudolph.

Well, until today. Now I look more like a measles patient thanks to the hole in my forehead. How did I get the hole? Well, the kids and I were playing Hide and Seek at the park. Someone had recently trimmed the big willow tree so we couldn't hide under the low-sweeping branches like we usually do. Instead, Ellie and I tried to hide behind the trunk of the tree while Zach counted. Apparently the tree-trimmers didn't expect 5' 8" people to be standing so close to the tree. Trying to be quick and sneaky, I absently impaled my forehead on a freshly trimmed (not so smoothly, I'll add) branch. Yup. Big red bump on my nose, nice big hole in my head. The good news: it stopped bleeding before Ellie could stick a princess band-aid on my hairline.

Karen is probably rolling right now because she knows none of this has anything to do with motherhood. She witnessed several of my accident-prone moments in college. Like the time I victoriously stomped on a lonely dandelion only to march headlong into a tree and split my lip open. Or when I bruised my cheekbone by falling asleep at Pizza Hut and hitting my face on the table. Or hyper-extended my back learning to dive at camp. (This, however, was not the same day when I split her lip open with my elbow while she was teaching me how to dive.) Or when I got pink-eye three times in one summer. Or my wedding when I caught my veil on fire. Or a couple years later when I lost all my toenails after walking twenty miles in the rain for breast cancer.

Okay, so maybe it's just my fun life. Good thing I have a sense of humor. And I heal quickly.

I try to keep this site clean, but ...

... with a boy in the midst of potty-training who will do anything to make his sister laugh, it's difficult. Here's a direct quote from this morning.

Zach: "Mommy, I've got a package for you. It's in here." (Being completely serious, he then pointed to his nether-region.)
Me: "Um ... what is it?" (At this point I'm getting nervous because I never know what to expect with these kids.)
Zach: "It's a package. You know what's inside?" (Still pointing.)
Me: "Your diaper?"
Zach: "Nooooo. What's inside the package, Mom?"
Me: "I ... have ... no idea." (Meanwhile Ellie starts giggling like I'm missing out on the funniest joke ever.)
Zach: "It's poopy. And it's for you. Do you want to open my package?"

Yeah. I should go take care of that.

More on that fleeting feeling of intimacy

Yesterday I wrote about the temporal nature of intimacy. Someone commented that after being gone for so long, I sure came back with a depressing post. *grin* Well, it wasn't meant to be depressing. The truth is intimacy is not fleeting, but the feeling of it may be.

This morning I read another chapter in Blue Like Jazz. I'm loving this book, but because of all the other things I'm reading at the same time (Thank you, ADD.), it's taking me a while to finish. In the portion I read today, the author, Donald Miller, wrote about how people can't stay happy for long periods of time. He said: "Joy is a temporal thing. Its brief capacity, as reference, gives it its pleasure."

I like that. It reminds me of something Ted Dekker once wrote on his blog. He was asked why he writes so specifically and graphically about evil. He said: "I refuse to become complicit with evil by characterizing that nasty, nasty stuff in a way that softens its destructive bite. Doing so would not only be deceptive but it would undermine the great victory won by our hero in His majestic defeat of this terrible villain called evil." Now, he's talking about good versus evil and I'm only talking about the varying degrees of feeling close to God, but it's the same point. You need contrast to recognize value.

In other words, without times in the pit, those mountain top experiences I spoke about yesterday wouldn't mean as much. If we felt high on grace and blessings all the time, we wouldn't treasure them as much. They're presence would become mundane, ordinary, expected. Diamonds are not precious because they're found in every back yard. They're a treasure to be sought after and showcased when found.

In the same way we should seek after those moments in which we feel overcome by intimacy with God. We need to work at our relationship with him and treasure the moments when our security in Him matches our emotions toward Him. But we also need to praise Him for the down-time that highlights those awesome moments in perfect communion with Him. Without the valleys, the mountains wouldn't seem so great.

Temporal Intimacy

The past two weeks have been amazing! I'm glad to be back, but am now faced with the thick reality of how temporal the experiences were.

A week ago Saturday I drove home from Philadelphia. It was early morning. I spent my first fifteen minutes on the road watching a fly on my windshield. When that thrilling entertainment came to an end, I turned on a worship CD.

I love driving by myself. As I let my mind wander and my heart sing, unbidden tears streamed down my face. I didn't even bother to wipe them away. I felt they were washing me clean as God revealed Himself to me. All the wonders I've taken for granted, the blessings I've felt entitled to, the miraculous journey He's enabled me to take. I was overcome by humility, honor, and gratitude. Why would the Creator of the universe take an interest in me? Why would He care what happens to me? I belted out praises to Him. I confessed and prayed and then sang some more.

Now, we're back to normal life. Vacation is over. My mountain-top conference experience is past. School starts in a matter of days, my calendar is already filled for the next few weeks, and where has my praise gone? It's been shelved, as always happens when I get back to "normal" life. I hate it. I love those moments of intimacy with God! Why is it so difficult to maintain that closeness? Why, when I get in my routine, do I prioritize sleep over quiet times? Why do deadlines and schedules make my faith robotic? Do I really believe five minutes in the bathroom is enough to feel close to God?

Making time to be still is difficult, but it's so worth it. What helps you find that time? How do you keep your relationship with God fresh? What do you do with "broken appointments" with Him?

Quick Update

The speech therapist did not have a noticeable accent, so that was cool, and Isabel is already saying "yellow" instead of "lello." :) In other news, I'm going to be away for a week or so. I'm attending a writers conference today and tomorrow. (Please pray for me that God will be glorified by my presence here; that I learn much and seize available opportunities.) Then on Saturday we're leaving for vacation. (Yeah!! The kids can't wait to get to the beach.) I'll fill you in on everything when we get back.

The beginning or the end?

Let me apologize in advance to my readers from New Jersey.

Ellie starts speech therapy today. (If you're wondering why, check out this post.) It may be the beginning or the end. When we had her evaluated a couple weeks ago, I was excited about the help she would receive. I thought about how much easier it would be for her to learn to read if she were actually pronouncing her words correctly. Yesterday she tried to tell me that "yellow" starts with 'L' -- "lello." Imagine if her phonics actually matched her enunciation! Well, the excitement lasted about twenty minutes into the one-hour-plus evaluation. It was at that point I heard the specialist ask a nasal "Which dawg has a lawng tail?"

Today may be the beginning or the end. If the therapist assigned to our case talks like that, I think we're going to have to quit. I mean, do I really want to pay someone to teach my kid to talk with a Jersey accent? Aren't all therapist supposed to be accent-free?

What are my goals?

"But Martha was distracted with all her preparations." - Luke 10:40a (NASB)

Do you remember this story? The whole passage is Luke 10:38-42. I've often felt bad for Martha. She's doing what she knows is expected of her while sweet little Mary completely ignores what's considered proper and right, yet Martha receives the reprimand. It just doesn't seem fair. And yet I know Martha was sacrificing what was great for what was only good. Such is the nature of distractions.

My week is pretty crazy. We had Zach's birthday yesterday. On Wednesday the kids and I drive to Philadelphia where they will have a couple fun days with Grandma while I attend a writer's conference. Then, on Saturday, we'll grab Rick and our bags (which I am packing today and tomorrow) and drive to Cape Cod for a big family vacation with cousins and more. I had hired a babysitter to come today. The plan was for her to play with the kids while I finished up my proposal and preparation for the conference. (This is the first time I have EVER hired a babysitter so that I could do something for myself. Of course, I've been riddled with mom-guilt since making the phone call. It's silly - right? Oh, but mom-guilt is a topic for another day.) Well, the phone rang early this morning: the babysitter is sick. So here I am distracted like Martha. I have lists of things that must be done and not near enough time to accomplish it all. I'm struggling to choose what is great over what is merely good.

I need to remember my goals.

Martha and I share this: we care about what people think. She wanted to please people with her wonderful hostess abilities, her clean home and lovely meals. I want to please people too -- with my writing, my (sometimes) clean house, my stellar creativity, my brilliant children ... the list goes on. And when someone disapproves of me or what I've produced, then I want to drop everything to prove I'm better than they think I am. I can meet their expectations! I can please them too. Slightly neurotic - right?

My life goal is to glorify God. It doesn't matter what society deems "proper." It doesn't matter what people think of me. My goal is to bring Him glory by whatever means possible. Today that means staying focused, undistracted. It doesn't matter if I pack the red shirt or the blue one as long as I get packed. It doesn't matter if I can't practice my pitch or finish my proposal (gulp!) as long as I pray and keep my kids safe and happy. The distractions are in the details and I need to focus on the big picture. At least for today.

Guess who turned 3 yesterday?

Ellie, the budding photographer

Ellie wants a digital camera for Christmas. She talks about it all the time. (Well, that and her future wedding to the handsome man who will take all her money. Her words, not mine.) Karen is hosting a weekly carnival of toddler photography. Ellie's not a toddler anymore, but I think her work still qualifies. I recently told you about dress-up at our house. Here are some pics she took that same day.

Apparently Zach jumps on the couch when I'm not looking.

Some nice action shots there. And here's me, still in my fancy get-up, making dinner, oblivious to the circus taking place in the other room and the child descreeting documenting it with my camera.

Another shot of the living room, boy still in action.

And finally, a beautiful shot of recycling day mess.

I don't know. For a four-year-old, I think she's pretty good! Good grasp of composition and a steady hand. Not too bad. For more kid photography, check out the carnival at Life in the Crazy Lane.