Seeking Thanks in the Shadows

 

I looked around the bathroom at the gleaming mirror, spotless sink, and sparkling toilet. Satisfaction filled my heart as I thought, "This bathroom looks GREAT. Glad that's over with!" Subconsciously though,  I was setting a thank-trap. In my mind, someone would notice the improvement to our half bath, and say, "Thank you for cleaning the bathroom, Mom!" I should have known that's not how it would play out.

One of our kids walked in the bathroom and said, "This bathroom SMELLS like chemicals." "What?!" I retorted in disbelief. "But...(stammering)....didn't you notice how clean it is now?" They shook their head in disagreement. "No- I didn't notice that, I just noticed how much it smells like chemicals." My eyebrows froze at the top of my forehead as if I had overdosed on Botox. I. Can't. Even. Believe. 

Ah, the mirror of children. If anyone will show me just how selfish I am and just how much I need a Savior, it's the four Martins under my roof. Unwittingly, they've taught me infinitely as much as I've taught them. And that day, the picture I saw of myself in that streak free, Windex-ed mirror, was one that I've seen before. Instead of a no strings attached act of genuine love and kindness, my unnoticed upgrade had a taut string attached to it that led straight to my ego. Ouch.

Someone told me once that being a Mom is a thankless job. And in almost 12 years of being a Mom,  I've learned that she is partially right. There are parts of motherhood that I do as a sacrifice and a privilege, no questions asked. Then there are other times that I hope, just a smidge, that someone will notice me. That someone will catch me in the act and applaud. Yet sometimes it feels like I'm alone on an empty stage with no one in the audience. Just being real. Only now, I've come to learn that my job isn't thankless. There's always someone applauding faintly in the shadows. God.

The verse in Colossians that I've been zeroing in on since the first time someone rejected my cooking is this one:

  

 "Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people." 3:23

This verse has been the pillow that's broken my fall on more than one occasion. It's a two way street that leads to life in both directions. There's one road that encourages me to be excellent in all my work, because in the end, I'm not really doing it for people's approval, I'm doing it as worship to God. But oh, then there's the sweet road that leads another way. If in fact I never get thanks from people, I still win. Because in the end, it's not for them anyway!

That verse invites us all into a paradigm shift. Instead of chasing after the loud chords of praise from those we are positioned to serve, God shows us another way. He shows us that His long term, endless song of approval over us lasts longer than the one strum thanks we can get in this lifetime. That the pat on the back we settle for is eclipsed and overtaken by His loving and constant embrace of acceptance. How I want to default to the latter every single time. But I'm still in the process. Under construction. Not done. In His grace though, and I say this tongue in cheek, God is still giving me plenty of opportunities to practice. As He does you.

So the next time our hearts yearn for applause on a stage, may we be confident that God thanks us in the shadows. That even if no one else sees, He does. That even if the acts of service given aren't appreciated or even rejected outright, that He can see straight to your loving heart. 

Nothing is wasted. Not one ingredient, not one text or phone call, not one gift given, and not one toilet scrubbed.

He thanks you. For every moment that you give without expecting anything in return. For taking the heat when giving someone a cup of cold water. For every time you reached out and was pushed back. You are celebrated, noticed, and loved by the only one who matters. May His smile be the only reward we seek.

Fear Fires

 Since I was a little girl, one of the most common things I experienced was fear. Fear of the dark, fear of being alone, fear of punishment. It still creeps up more than I care to admit; fear of bad stuff happening to my kids, fear of the unknown, fear of change. Fear has a way of shaping our thoughts, altering our decision making, and eclipsing our faith. As much as I hate to admit it, fear has played a role in the times that I should have spoken up about something but didn't. I've let fear damage my relationships to the point where I've lost friendships. I've even let fear hijack my mouth when parenting my kids. It's like a fire that can cause great damage, and spreads quickly. How many times has a teensy fear spread like wildfire until I'm completely paralyzed? Too many to count. And sometimes, the damage is so great that I don't know how God could rebuild. Thankfully, His ability to rebuild triumphs over any destruction caused by those fearful fires. What do we do when we see a fear fire pop up? Do we try to stop it, or do we allow it to etch a devastating path in our minds, dreams, and relationships? 

One of the first fire safety tips I learned taught me what to do if my clothes ever caught on fire. Do you remember learning "Stop, Drop and Roll?" Thankfully, I've never had my clothes catch on fire, but maybe this tip can be repurposed into what we can do when we're afraid.

STOP.

The tendency I have is to let fear run its course until the "fire" is so big that it's nearly impossible to put out. I'll use a real life fear that I have to show you how it happens inside my head. If I am snippy with the kids, it looks like this:

Snippy with the kids ---> emotional wounds are caused ---> they'll never forgive me ---> they'll grow up deficient in love ---> they'll have unhealthy relationships ---> they'll end up in counseling ---> or jail ---> or worse

Sad, isn't it? Now although those things could potentially happen (I did carry them to extremes), I'm letting things that haven't even happened steal my joy as if they were really happening. It's true that me being snippy could hurt the kids, but if I focus on the fear, I can't have vision for how to course correct in the here and now. So when fear fires start, the best thing to do is stop.

Stop the fear in its tracks by refusing a chain of fears to be perpetuated. Stop, and capture the thought.

We take hold of every thought and make it obey Christ. 2 Corinthians 10:5

To every fear that lights up, yell "Freeze! Halt! Stop in the name of the law!" Is that fear something that would come from the heart of the One who wants to give you peace, joy, and wholeness? No. And in the case of my example fear, the solution can be as simple as me humbly apologizing. Then God can do something amazing like turn my Mom fail into a lesson for the kids to know what to do when they hurt someone, and show them that He is there to heal their hearts. He's good like that.

DROP. 

This is the opposite of the fight or flight response. Sometimes fear makes me fight; fight with the joy and peace that are trying to rule my heart. Sometimes fear makes me run; run from opportunities. But what I should do is drop; drop to my knees and give my fear to God. After all, He's the one whose shoulders are big enough to carry everything that's weighing me down. Prayer is like a fire hose that shoots water on hungry flames. Because the focus shifts from "how am I going to get through this fear?" to "God, You are big enough to handle this fear." 

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Philippians 4:6

When fear rears up its fiery head, drop to your knees (or drop what you're doing or thinking) and pray. Let worry be the fire alarm that a fear is blazing, and let prayer be the immediate action you take. This fear may be bigger than your scope of knowledge, but it's not bigger than God's. And in faith, thank Him for taking care of the matter, and taking care of you.

ROLL.

Rolling smothers out the flames by depriving them of oxygen; without oxygen, a fire goes out. Rolling around in God's goodness deprives fear of the power that it has to overshadow every good thing we have been given. It's hard to focus on ourselves when we are getting swallowed up into the goodness of God. 

The Lord is my light and my salvation—  so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble? Psalm 27:1

With the focusing of our minds on the power and majesty of God, the tables are turned. We no longer are cowering at the unchecked inferno of our fears, we are bowing at the greatness of God. Suddenly the power that fear once had is extinguished, and it is no more. If God is for us, who (or what) can be against us? There are shadows of the unknown, but God is light. There are hidden dangers, but God is our way, truth, and life. 

Stop. Drop. Roll. And give fear a reason to turn tail and run.

What's In Your Lunch?

Have you ever seen someone using their gifts and think, "Man, I wish I could do that!"? Like your friend who is an amazing cook or baker, or super athletic, or can organize like nobody's business? You see them in action and it moves you.  Inspires you. Makes you want to dig in deeper and be a better version of you; yeah, that kind of person. I am inspired by lots of those people too. However, there's a little guy in the Bible that inspires the daylights out of me. And I don't even know his name.

There's a story in the gospels about a certain crowd that is estimated to be in the tens of thousands who is hungry. I'm married with four kids, and I can attest to being intimidated by 5 hungry people. But if the 5 were tens of thousands looking to me to feed them? I might be tempted to toss a fistful of glitter in the air, squeak out a nervous "See ya!" and high tail it out of there. The funny thing is that Jesus wasn't flustered at all. His friends however, were.

This, my friends, this is where a big problem becomes the beginning of a miracle. Because in the crowd is a little boy who happens to have a small lunch with him (his Mom was probably a type A, but I digress) that consists of 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish. Enough for a little guy- but not even a drop in the bucket for the sea of humanity surrounding him. Later on though, Jesus says this about the loaves and fishes..."Bring them here." I feel that same invitation is one that He gives us today.

What's in your "lunch"? In other words, what have you been gifted with? Now you might be thinking, "OK, I do have this little gift, but it's nothing like Johnny P's or Susie Q's." And I would agree; it's nothing like his or hers. Because it's YOURS. It's the only "you version" of that gift in this entire world, and that's what makes it special. Which may lead to you thinking, "True, but what difference can I make?" And I might agree on that count too- because you're only one person. But my dear one, there's the God factor.

That little boy's lunch was proportionate to his size, but not even close to the size of the crowd. However, when the God factor entered into the picture, when the boy was willing to give it, and when Jesus took it and blessed it and divided it, the bread kept coming. The fish kept coming. That little boy's eyes must have grown like saucers when he saw his lunch that once fit into a little basket be multiplied to fill a boat load of baskets, all because he was willing, and there was a God who was all powerful. If you choose to offer up your hospitality, or your influence, or your administration abilities to God, the ideas will keep coming. The opportunities will keep coming. The resources will keep coming.

If God could create something out of nothing, He can certainly create something out of something, no matter how small. In your hands, your talents have a limited potential. In God's hands, they have a limitless potential. 

There is no talent too small that it can't be multiplied in the hands of a miraculous God. The only variable there is will be what you decide to do when Jesus says to you, "Bring it here." 

So what's in your lunch? You've been given a gift from God. There are ingredients in your lunch that are unlike any in the world. No matter how raw, or small in your estimation, you have something to give, and it was given to you by God. Choose to see your gifts through God's eyes.  Choose to listen to His call when He says, "Bring it here." And may your eyes grow like saucers when you watch your lunch for one feed multitudes. The crowds are hungry. The Savior is waiting. It's your cue.

Of Bath Robes and Silly Putty

Embedded in the fibers of my bathrobe is SILLY PUTTY.

It was an ordinary day last week when I noticed it. I went to pick up my beautiful L.L. Bean light purple bathrobe that my husband got me last Christmas, when I noticed that interrupting the bright color was another color. A light beige gummy texture had adhered to the terry. That's when it hit me: someone had put Silly Putty on my bath robe. I felt the mercury rising in my frustration-o-meter. "This is one of the only nicer things I own, and now it has SILLY PUTTY on it?!?!" I channeled my inner Sherlock Holmes, and pieced together a plausible story that explained this minor tragedy. Janessa (my 6 year old) was probably playing with the sinister goo, and instead of putting it back safely in its egg shaped case, she left it to its own devices. The putty then decided to make extra friendly with my bath robe, and the rest as they say, is history.

My frustration peaked again yesterday when I discovered that my newly organized bedroom  had ended up in a state of minor disarray. My spaciously streamlined dresser was now covered in various art pieces by Janessa. The Monopoly card game that I had tossed in my bedroom's waste basket had been resurrected again, and placed in a pile on the floor. "I JUST cleaned this room!!!! What is this?!?!" Steve and I have joked around through the years that there's only one word for mysterious messes, broken belongings, and abolished agendas. Sabotage.

Being a Mom has been one of the most honored privileges that I am blessed to be part of. I used to dream of what my kids would look like, sound like, and grow up to be. And yet, being a Mom, sometimes I get trapped in discontentment in the here and now. Being a Mom has chiseled me into a learned Type A. I make plans, I write lists, I clean messes. Sometimes I get frustrated when the kids take my two steps forward and turn into one step backward. And then I remember lyrics to a song by Trace Adkins called, "You're Gonna Miss This":

You're gonna miss this
You're gonna want this back
You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're gonna miss this

Discontentment settles like an itch on the skin of my soul, and instantly I'm tempted to scratch it with wishing away. Wishing away the frustrations, the messes, the ages and the stages. The "Why can'ts" and the "Someday when's" connect with my current irritations, and I'm given the false hope that the future will be better in some way shape or form. But the truth is that even if today's troubles are over, tomorrow will have new ones. I'm past children in diapers, but teens dating are ahead of me. I'm done with teething, but wisdom teeth are yet to come. I may have navigated through training wheels, but I'm raising 4 future student drivers. Shocking, but true.

I look at my bath robe in a new light. The stubborn substance enmeshed into those thirsty threads was placed there by the dainty fingers of a little girl who is absolutely priceless. A girl who uses those hands to draw me pictures of Mommy and baby animals, because she treasures the mother daughter relationship so much. 

A girl who grows a little older every day. A girl who will one day be a teenager, who'll be a young woman. A girl who I will one day try to wish back, because I miss her so much. Though I won't be able to bring her back, but what I can do is celebrate today.

This is the day that the Lord has made.
    Let us rejoice and be glad today! Psalm 118:24

Today, she is 6 and lives at home. She goes to kindergarten half the day, and comes home to eat lunch with me. She is my mini me in a million different ways. She has a feisty sense of humor. Today, I will celebrate who she is. Today, I will celebrate where each of my kids is at. Today is a day not for wishing away, but for slow savoring. So slow that when today becomes 20 years ago, I'll still have the taste of these fleeting days on my palate. I'll probably forget about the bath robe with Silly Putty. However the Janessa of today, I'm going to miss her. Let's look at the temporal in the light of the eternal. Let's overlook today's pebbles in the light of life's big milestones. After all, today's "sabotages" are tomorrows sweetest memories.