It’s ok to not be good at something.  Let me say it a different way.  It’s ok to be bad at some things.  I kinda got that one in spades.  Sometimes Jeff needs an object for a sermon illustration.  I have been known to crawl into the attic on a Saturday night looking for just the right baseball mitt, feather boa, scrapbook picture, container of shells from a certain vacation, etc…

But sometimes what he needs is something he doesn’t know I have. (wait. what?)  A while back he wished he had a dead plant for a sermon illustration. I smiled.

Bam!  I got that. In fact I’ve got a couple of those!!  I kinda wondered how many dead plants he needed for his sermon illustration.

I guess I have always wanted to be as good as my mother and sisters with their green thumbs.  I grew up on a farm for goodness sake!  My mom is always so kind to say, “Well, don’t worry about it dear.  Sometimes it is the way the light is in the house.  It might not be your fault.” Sugar coating the fact that I’m a pitiful botanist by saying my home is not a greenhouse. My mum is one sweet mama!!

But….not to worry. I’m realizing that not being good at something, sometimes makes me perfect for Jeff and his sermon illustrations!!

happily ever after, beth

Lynz and I were talking about the search for God’s will within daily life.  It was a long phone conversation and there were lots of “um-hum” moments and some moments that were quiet.  But here’s what we took away from our joint expedition to the mountain of the mind of God.

He doesn’t hide His will from us.  We are not expected to look at door #1, door #2, and door #3 with a fear that we will “pick” the wrong one.  Sometimes there are innumerable “doors.”  Many choices.  And sometimes there are no choices. But in each and every situation God is not hoping we determine what He is seemingly keeping from us.  This is not a game of hide and seek.  His will for our lives is crystal clear in scripture.

Love God. Love people.

But that’s the forest.  What about the trees?

Psalm 119:10 is a great help.  “I have tried hard to find you–don’t let me wander from your commands.”  So when the decision isn’t clear, the choice is confusing, the direction uncertain…don’t wander from His commands.  Stay in the Word.  Find Him in prayer.  Then move!  Have confidence that the God of the universe can take your decision (made prayerfully) and guide your steps forward into His plan for your life.

It isn’t all about us anyway…as if we had the ability to catch God by surprise with our decisions!! He is sovereign over all (me included…right Lyndsey?)

Happily ever after, beth

So about this crying thing.  I don’t do much of it.  I live with very few tears (unless I’m in the kitchen chopping onions). But I cried a while back and here’s what happened.

A friend prayed for my children.  Out loud.  With me.  Not just, “God, help Beth’s children.”  But actually mentioned their names and stuff they’re going through. She put tenderness into her prayer so that I could hear.

And so I cried. Which I rarely do.

Any one else?  When other people love on your children, do you get all drippy too?

Why do I cry about kid stuff? What is it about my relationship with them that produces tears from eyes that are usually desert dry? Why do I miss them so terribly even when I am happy for where they are in life? And why is all this still true even now in their productive adult years?

My 2013 cancer didn’t scare me so much as it scared me for my children.  I didn’t want them to go through having a mother with cancer.  I didn’t want that struggle for them. I always played by the rule of a mama protects her kids from bad things. But God met them in that bad when I couldn’t meet them there.  I was completely focused on my effort to get well. I couldn’t “help” them.

Even so, they grew in ways that were not possible on the healthy side of the line connecting parent and child.

So what do I learn in this?  I am convinced that as their parent, I will be tied all my days to their happiness and despair. They aren’t called apron strings for no reason. But understanding that God’s love for them is intertwined in all their future good and bad leaves me with an audible sigh that sounds a lot like relief.  It compels me to untie my apron and leave the kitchen. He goes before and beckons them to draw near.  I may or may not be there to rejoice or cry with them, but my confidence is in God not me or them.

I have been watching from afar a young mother with children step very near the edge of eternity in her battle with cancer.  She has decided to prepare her children for her earthly absence by teaching them to find God on their own. Without her. She knows that the greatest lesson is knowledge that the absence of an earthly parent will never mean the absence of their heavenly Parent.

And so…back to my friend’s prayer for my children. Those tears were tender, not desperate. Thankful, not afraid.

Happily ever after, beth

She’s an introvert. Not a painful introvert, but also not the fulfillment of the token phrase, “Oh she’s a little shy.”  She recharges her spirit with quiet alone time. A true introvert.

So when she told me that her future husband has eight siblings, I did the math (I’m not good at math but this was important and so I counted up).  If every sibling procures a spouse and the parents gather them all around the table for Christmas morning breakfast, there will be 20 bowing their heads in prayer and diving for the hot cinnamon rolls. Nieces and nephews are being born and so July 4 picnics could sport more than two dozen family members eating burgers and jumping in the pool.  And if anyone brings a friend to join these gatherings, which already happens in this very gracious and welcoming southern family, well, my math begins to break down.  Goodness.  Don’t even get me started on the count of waffles for the New Year’s celebration! Using my fingers AND an abacus just might not be enough!!

But here’s the thing.  She loves it already. She has been part of many family “gatherings” this year and consistently expresses her complete joy and happiness at being included in this bunch of loving people. Sure, she has taken a walk around the farm alone, but it has been a quick one to calm her spirit.  Rejoining the family, that big group, gives her great joy. It’s her family too now.

I would never have put her in a crowd to make her smile, but I hear her happiness when she talks about being with his family.  It is scratching an itch I didn’t know she had.  Filling a void I didn’t notice was part of her person.

God’s got this.  He, not me, is planning her path and placing her where she can most glorify Him.

And so my lesson in this is being careful to not hold on to my well crafted picture of my daughter’s future. I say to myself. “Get out of the way, mum.  Your days of picking out her clothes are long over.  God is choosing her outfits now and this family fits her perfectly.”

Praise Jesus. I’m just the mother.  God is her Father.

I fold used plastic Target shopping bags.

I’ll admit it one more time—I fold used plastic Target shopping bags.                               You know.                                                                                                                             The ones with the red “target” on them.

Really.                                                                                                                                       I fold them.                                                                                                                              In fourths.                                                                                                                           And in fourths again.                                                                                                         Then I put them neatly in a container under the kitchen sink.

Menial does not mean unimportant.

You know, some of you do the exact same thing.  Not many.  But some.  We all have boring tasks that just seem to take little bits of time from our day.

However, from the naysayers who know that I do this, I’ve had some unusual reactions… “Oh Beth, that’s SO you!” or “Why do you waste so much time doing that?” or “______” (that’s computer talk for “blank stare”) and so for those reasons and others, I generally don’t let people outside my family watch me fold grocery bags.

But menial does not mean unimportant.

For years now, I have used those few minutes for prayer.  Now before we get all “Sunday School” here, just know that there is no agenda for the direction one takes for prayer during The Folding of The Plastic (how could there be?).

And so it has always been whatever is on the surface of my heart at that moment because surface things are urgent and can be tender.  There have also been times when my heart has been quiet because listening goes a long way in developing a closeness between two. God takes those moments and redeems the time.

He exchanges my hands folding plastic for my hands folding in prayer. And He and I are blessed with just a bit more growth in our friendship.

Because menial does not HAVE to be unimportant.

Happily ever after, beth

Scripture is filled with people looking for God.

Climbing mountains–Moses was investigating.                                                                       Crossing deserts–the Israelites were searching.

Walking into arks–Noah was exploring.                                                                                 Stepping out of fishing boats–Peter was testing.

Climbing up trees–Zacchaeus was inquiring.                                                                         Getting down on knees–a father was begging.

Sneaking in the dark of evening–Nicodemus was questioning.                                               Boldly in the light of day–the blind man was seeking.

They were all looking for God.

I look for God in the everyday of living not because He is hiding and needs to be “found” but because I don’t always hear His presence. I believe He is on the move and that movement is perceptible.

While hiking alongside a river, I was very aware of the “noise” of the water.  Water itself is silent, but it’s the movement of water that makes sound.

We live at the beach.  The water in the ocean is soundless, but it is the movement of the waves that we hear.

God is moving.  Always. We must watch for and listen for those movements to hear Him and know He is near.

Listen. His silence is audible.

Some want to live close enough to the beach to hear the water.  I want to live close enough to God to hear the silence.

Happily ever after, beth

I have a confession.   I don’t like starting.  Anything.  Starting stinks.

Exercise.  Diets.  Vitamins.  Flossing.  Journals.  Etc…

Things that I know I should be doing on a consistent basis.  Good things.

Here’s how I convince myself that I shouldn’t start.

“Beth.  Don’t begin that blog, because you know you won’t be consistent.”                            ***spoken with sarcasm in my voice and a roll of my eyes! (oh, and throw in a whiney voice on the word “know”)***

That’s it.  That’s all I have to say to myself to get in a funk and turn off the switch of determination. Just the potential of being inconsistent ends things before I even start them.

Sheesh.  Am I really the only one who thinks this way?  Does potential failure stop anyone else?

I don’t start cuz I might not finish.  So when my brain thinks that way…how do I respond?

I just don’t do it. (sorry Nike!)  I don’t start.

But here’s the thing…I finally finished something. I actually started it and then finished it!!!

That bottle on the right has only one left.  First time in 54 years that I have finished a whole bottle of vitamins.

Yup.  Uh-huh.  Up high.  Down low.

But here’s what I learned 54 years in the making.  There are some things that just demand a commitment and follow through.  Things like——-

Driving on the correct side of the road. *Committed and following through!

Not using a flagpole as shelter during a lightning storm. *Committed and following through!

Lifetime marriage.  *Committed and following through!

Consistency doesn’t seem to be a problem in some things.

And so I think the difference in consistency comes by fully believing the commitment made is right and good and necessary.

I believe taking these pills is important.  (Full disclosure?…I am also swallowing my 5 year prescription and an extra vitamin D each night, so it’s not just vitamins.)

So that’s it.  Just do it. (thanks Nike!)

The lesson I am learning is to look for those things with which I am struggling and then determine if my struggle is because of unbelief in the right-ness or good-ness of that commitment.  That unbelief ultimately affects my discipline needed to complete the task.

I must only commit to those things I fully believe are good and right and necessary.  The follow through will come.  God promises to give us power and love and discipline.  Consistency will follow.

“For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline.”             2 Timothy 1:7

Happily ever after, beth

**The verse I chose for the picture is not about discipline and consistency (the point of this blog post) but rather about the belief that my healing ultimately comes from God — with or without pills.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

Remember that game?  Silly me.  EVERY daisy petal says “He loves me!!”

Happily ever after, beth

I’ve done big. 2013 was a whopper of a year.

Multiple surgeries…painful.

2+ months of chemo…grueling.

33 rounds of radiation…exhausting.

Beginning 5+ years of medication…burdensome.

I’m not surprised at how I attacked each of those situations. While living through that status quo shift, I just put one foot in front of the other and got it done.

But what surprises me is how I am so bothered by little things. Insignificant things. How is it that losing my hair was met with a “meh” attitude, yet now when my purse strap gets caught in the car door, “meh” does not even begin to describe my passionate albeit unfortunate response?

Yeah. I can’t figure that one out either.

Happily ever after, beth

I think children’s books linger in our minds a long time.  Our whole family was worshiping together at a church in Charlotte when I realized the pictures on my mind during singing were from a children’s book.  A book I had read back in the 60’s while living in St. Catharines, Ontario.

So on this particular Sunday while I watched the worship leader raise her hands and sing “hosanna,” I was immediately transported back into the book where the little Jewish children were waving palm branches and looked very happy.

Two things I took from that moment.  One–happy little children don’t have a corner on the “praising Jesus” market.  Sometimes it is adults (happy and sad ones) who lift their hands and hearts in worship when Jesus is near.  AND. Two–we need to be VERY careful what our children read.

That morning I had a flashback from 2014 in Charlotte, NC to 1965 in St. Catharines, Ontario.  Almost 50 years later I still remembered what that book looked like.  Seriously…I remembered what that  “hosanna” PAGE looked like!

Hmmmm.  Me thinks it would be proactive to feed our children’s mind (and therefore memories) with correctness.  It will come back to them!!

Happily ever after, beth

It was a weary day.  For him.  For me.  But still we walked. Our pre-supper exercise remained unchanged.

We both noticed the oleander shrubs were black. Black because the cold of winter had come unexpectedly hard this year and hit the tender. The parts exposed were hurt.  The vulnerable branches were damaged.

Oh my.  I too have been hit. Cold has come and blackened my tender. My heart hurts. Bad hurt sometimes.

Just like those shrubs, my heart should stay closer to The Root.  Like those plants, the fringes of me wouldn’t suffer so when the cold comes.

And it does come.  The cold.  The carnage of suffering.

But just like those shrubs, life comes from the root. The picture I took of that same oleander plant now shows new life coming back.

Restoration comes after suffering.

Happily ever after, beth