just in case

Just in case you have a 6-year-old son whose kindergarten teacher gives him an ink pen that doubles as a flashing, multi-colored light for his birthday.

And just in case that quick-witted lad sneaks this blinking ballpoint into his bed and flaunts it at his siblings in the trundle below and in the room across the hall when all are supposed to be asleep.

And just in case he’s been reprimanded for the above so he proceeds to dismantle the gadget for entertainment instead.

And just in case you and your hubby are in the kitchen steeping tea and jigging because whew! they’re all in bed! and looking forward to cuddling on the couch when you hear a “Psssssttt!” from down that hall.

And just in case the hubby trudges down said hall to the room of the Psssssttter and stomps back disbelieving:  the. boy. swallowed. a. battery.   ?!?!?!?

Just in case all of the above, there is a National Battery Ingestion Hotline for those susceptible to said consumption.

And the people at the end of that line will calmly query, “And why did the child put the battery into his mouth?”  And you might snort at the absurdity of it all.  Why, indeed?  For safekeeping?  For use as a supersonic spitwad?  And the Battery Ingestion Expert will recommend the ER and an x-ray and Is the child having difficulty breathing? Because then an ambulance is in order.  And meanwhile you are trying to determine if the steam crawling the kitchen wall opposite you is trailing from the teapot or your dear husband’s ears.

And FYI, the Hotline people will proceed to call periodically following the incident wondering if said object has “passed.”  Now, you might feel as if you are exposed to enough excrement in a day, what with a 3-month old and being in the process of potty-training the 2-year-old, but so be it.  If it’s going to save another several hundred, the dear husband says we will be searching the stool.

Just in case.

Now you know.

Heaven: the hope of Christmas

For this week's Enterprise...

                I was there when my Grandma died twenty years ago on November 19, a dull and drizzIy day.  I remember sitting on a windowsill in the family room on her floor and watching umbrellas scurry along the sidewalk below.  I remember playing Rummikub with Uncle Dave.  Mostly I remember waiting, and the sudden, shrill beeping of the machines.  I remember touching my Grandma’s puffy hand, and Mom and Aunt Carlene crying and hugging.

                The day of Grandma’s funeral was even colder than the day she died.  I wore my purple skirt and  lavender blouse and carried a sweaty wad of KIeenex in my hand.  I remember watching Great Aunt Marge sobbing and swaying in the pew in front of us and wishing that she would stop.

                My Grandma missed Thanksgiving.  She did not get to see me when I got my ears pierced for my tenth birthday several weeks later.  That Christmas our family gathered at Uncle Ed and Aunt Carlene’s house instead of Grandpa and Grandma’s.  Great Aunt Marge sent each of us eight grandchildren a hand-written note and a $100 bill.

                Grandpa missed Grandma.  I sat with him, Aunt Bubba, and Uncle Dave one Sunday afternoon, way in the back of the church sanctuary.  When the sermon started Grandpa pulled a poem out of his pocket.   He leaned forward and stared at the words on the paper for a long time, his elbows on his knees.  “I’m having my first Christmas in Heaven!  A glorious and wonderful day!  I’m standing with the saints of the ages, who found Christ, the Truth and the Way…”

…………………………………………………………

                What are you counting on this Christmas?  Does your hope for the holiday season depend on decorating your home?  The goodies you may or may not bake?  Buying or crafting or receiving just the right gift?  On going home for Christmas, or on who will or will not be coming home?  Peace on earth?

                I learned some things about Christmas the year that my Grandma died.  I learned that you can’t count on a person or persons to make your Christmas complete.  People die.  Divorce.  Move away.  I learned that no amount of material wealth can bring peace or joy to one’s heart.  As much as I enjoy giving or receiving a thoughtful gift, I cannot remember what I bought with Great Aunt Marge’s money, even though I’d never even seen a $100 bill before.  I learned that with time, all traditions change. 

                Grandpa had it right, in the end.  Heaven is the hope of Christmas.  Our hope for those whom we love, and the hope of our own hearts, too.  All of the distractions, disappointments, and depression that can consume at this time of the year come as the result of sin.  The result of Adam’s sin.  And your sin.  And mine.  “The wages of sin is death,” but praise God for the gift that He’s given to us, “eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 6:23).

                Is heaven your hope this Christmas?

                

meanwhile...

Eli

Sweetie Pie

grows and grows...

he's now three months old!

I put this outfit from Aunt Heather and her kids on him this morning and snapped these next to the living room window.

What a sweet, smiley baby he is!  Not long ago I was asking the Lord for grace to finish out my pregnancy and for the wisdom that B.J. and I would need to parent another child.  Now we can't imagine life without you, Eli Caleb!  What a precious gift you are!

reasons for Thanksgiving

Company!  B.J.'s brother Alex, his wife, Amy, and their two boys, Ayden and Avel.

Little Man's blue eyes...and an enjoyable day in Estes.

This mild-mannered Irish Wolfhound was one of three in a shop in Estes - HUGE dogs!

Avel, who'll be one year old this Saturday!

Eli smiles.

Cousins!

Driving to Denver.

We celebrated Ayden's birthday (Wednesday the 21st) by spending the afternoon at the Denver Aquarium.

Yes, these tigers were at the aquarium as well.

Nathan's favorites were the giant sea turtles.

What an amazing variety of sea life our God has created!

Touching the sting-rays.

Supper at the aquarium restaurant...

...and back home for birthday cake.

Friends and family members around our table on Thanksgiving Day...

...and many more gifts I haven't mentioned.

"Let us come before His presence with thanksgiving..."

Psalm 95:2

grace for the good girl

My column for this week's Enterprise.  I blogged in a similar vein almost 2 years ago.

“For seven years I lived like the prodigal son.  God’s grace drew me back.  I wish abortion was not a part of my story…but it is.  It’s the part of my past that the Lord uses to heal and give hope to others.”

                I’m sitting at a conference table in a gray basement room.  It is mid-morning, and the scent of coffee lingers in the air.  There are others at the table with me: a pastor, a nurse, a grandmother, a college student.  Together we learn about abortion from Kay, the self-proclaimed former prodigal.

                That same evening I learn of another prodigal: our pastor speaks on the life of John Newton.  Rev. Key notes the godly instruction that John received from his mother until she died when he was not quite seven years old.  He recounts John’s appalling decline into promiscuity, gambling, drunkenness, and the horrors of the slave trade, followed by his conversion and return to faith in the God his mother had so dearly loved.  We learn that the prodigal once notorious for his profanity became the pastor who penned the lyrics of one of the best-known hymns of all time.  For the second time that day I’m moved to tears as we sing, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                “I feel like I don’t have much to offer.  Like I need a story.”  I’m trembling as I say this, and the lentils that I’m stirring spatter on the stovetop.  My husband leans against the counter and looks at me.  “You don’t have to make up a story, Dear,” he says.

                It’s later that I realize he’s right.  I don’t have to make up a story: I already have one.  It’s true that it’d be stretch to make my story the story of a prodigal.  On the contrary, I’ve always been a “good girl.”  I was raised in a conservative Christian home.  I was an A student from kindergarten through college.  There is no promiscuity in my past, no drunkenness, no deep, dark secrets that I’ve long buried.  B.J. and I regularly hear comments on how beautiful or well-behaved our children are.  Jill trusts me to write this little column every other week.  To all outward appearances, I live a decent life.

                But during His earthly ministry Jesus taught that keeping God’s law required inward as well as outward obedience.  Our Lord equated lust with adultery, and name-calling with murder.  He taught the Pharisees that for all their pious deeds, inwardly they were filthy.  In fact, it is in response to their accusation – “This man receives sinners, and eats with them!” – that Jesus presented the parable of the prodigal son.  And it’s as I read those latter verses of Luke 15 over again that I see myself, after all.  No, not in the prodigal.  In the prodigal’s elder brother, and in the Pharisees that he represents.  Like them, I’m prone to think that my Father’s love is based on my own good deeds and external conduct rather than on His gracious character.  On who I am rather than on Who He is.

                It’s when I’m in bed that night that my sins rise up against me.  Bursts of impatience with my children.  A surly attitude toward my husband.  The squandering of precious time.  Those evil things that I’ve committed – that I wish I wouldn’t do, but still do.  Even more, there are the things that I’ve omitted – the good that I desire to do – that I should do – but don’t.  My lack of faith.  My lack of thankfulness.  My lack of zeal.  Opportunities to share the gospel that I’ve avoided.  The reality that in spite of all I’ve been given spiritually and materially – from my godly upbringing, to a faithful church, to a loving husband and children, to many gifts that I could use to bless others –  I’m prone to discontent and self-centeredness.  To pride. 

 And yet there’s this:  in spite of myself and the little that I’ve done with all that I’ve been given, the God of heaven willed to save a wretch like me. 

                I’m a “good girl.”  The amazing testimony of my life?  There’s grace for me, too.          

               

Willem plus tag plus slide

...equals shiner...

...a real shiner.

Romney's Religion

My column for this week's Enterprise.  And another column from one of my favorite bloggers that's well-worth the read.

“My passion flows from the fact that I believe in God, and I believe we’re all children of the same God,” stated Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney in his closing remarks at the town-hall style debate held on October 16. 

My ears perked up at Romney’s statement.  The Republican Party’s nominee for President, and the man whose victory speech I hope to hear one week from today, is a devout fifth-generation member of the LDS Church.  Notably, Romney’s running for office at the tail end of a decade in which Mormons were the fastest growing religious group in 26 of the 50 United States.  A 2010 census revealed that a dwindling 49% of US citizens are religious adherents.  At the same time, the LDS church exploded by 45 percent between the years 2000 to 2010. 

The Mormon religion was founded in the late 1820s by a young man named Joseph Smith, who dictated the writing of the Book of Mormon, one of four books which comprise the LDS canon.   Mormons consider themselves to be the true church of Jesus Christ, which, they believe, no longer existed at the time that God re-established it through Smith.  Though they regard the Bible to be flawed, they still recognize the King James Version of Scripture as one of their inspired texts.  Consequently, Mormons often use Christian terminology, but terms that are familiar to us have very different meanings in the context of their religion.  Know that when Mitt Romney states that he believes in God, the god that he confesses is not the God of Christianity.

First, though, it is somewhat difficult to determine exactly what Mormons believe.  Although they acknowledge four standard written works as mentioned above, they also believe in and highly esteem continuing revelation, which they believe god makes known through the church’s living prophets – namely, the president of the LDS church and his two counselors.  However, the “inspired” declarations spoken by Mormon leaders throughout history often contradict the approved canon as well as the oracles of the prophets who preceded them.  “The key to Mormon truth,” writes Latayne Scott, a former member of the LDS church, “is found in its ultimate truth-giver; its god.”

The Mormon god as taught was once a mortal man who lived on another planet, died, was resurrected and attained godhood through “eternal progression” by adhering to the precepts of his god.  Mormons believe that their god organized this universe out of pre-existent matter, and that all humans existed in infinity as spirits before he granted them physical bodies and the opportunity to pass through mortality and progress to godhood just as he had done.  Mormons deny original sin.  They also believe that there are three levels of heaven and that hell does not exist.  According to LDS doctrine, Jesus Christ and Lucifer are both children of god, conceived by literal sexual intercourse, and they lived with god on the original earth.  Mormons believe that Jesus Christ died to make atonement available to all, but in the end that atonement (the highest level of heaven) must be attained by obedience to the laws of the gospel and the LDS Church.  Along with that idea, they consider baptism by immersion in the LDS Church and the laying on of hands – also in the LDS church – to be necessary for salvation.

Ultimately, Ms. Scott reasons: “Mormon truth is like its creator – constantly changing and ultimately human in origin.”  The Mormon god is not the personal, incorporeal, omnipotent, omnipresent, immutable, eternal, only Creator God of the Bible.  And in contrast to the Christian doctrine of salvation by grace alone through faith in Jesus Christ alone, the Mormon religion emphasizes the necessity of good works and avoidance of external manifestations of sin. 

But do you know what’s even more astounding than the fact that millions adhere to Mormonism’s bizarre, unfounded, illogical, and often contradictory doctrine and history?  The reality that there are Mormons more motivated to spread the lie than we Christians are motivated to share the glorious Truth of the gospel.