Older and Wiser

Age is realizing that the newly-weds in their twenties are no longer your peers.


Maturity is giving up late nights and sleeping in for the sake of your child.


Wisdom is admitting that you don't know as much as you think you know.

Who Is My Neighbor?

I can only remember two times in recent years when I was helped by a complete stranger.

The first was when I was a mom with three young children. While at a toy store, my oldest daughter tripped and banged her head against the corner of a low table. The skin on her forehead was split and bleeding. There, in the middle of the store, I tried my best to calm my daughter and steady my shaking hands while looking for bandages in my bag. But the bleeding wasn't stopping. I forgot about my purchases and tried to round up my children, but with my screaming daughter in my arms, I could not carry my younger daughter also. I was about to make two trips to the van (the parking lot was right outside the small store) when a woman came and asked, "Is that your other daughter? I'll help carry her to the car." She was my angel that day, and I will never forget what she did.

The second was when I was pregnant and grocery shopping with all my children. As always, I load the children into the car before I load the bags. A man saw me dealing with all that, and offered to put the bags in the trunk for me. I have to say, that in all my combined months of being pregnant, I have never had a stranger (besides this man and baggers at the check-out) offer to help me put groceries in my car, even if I was trying to lift a giant box of water bottles at Costco.

This has made me more sympathetic to those in need, and more aware of our society growing more distant on a real, personal level (despite what 'experts' say). We have become people who stick in our ear buds and avoid eye contact. It's now 'mind your own business', and 'don't say anything because you may come across as offensive, racist, sexist, or intolerant'. But I still believe in offering assistance to the elderly. Yes, I may get an answer like, "No, I don't need your help" but at least I asked. I still believe that men should offer their seats to women, and open the door for them. Yes, a woman is perfectly capable of opening a door for herself, but that's not the point. I believe that we need to look out for those who may be in need of help, may that be a child at the park who needs her shoe tied, a man in a wheel chair who can't reach a box of cereal on a high shelf, or a stranger whose car broke down by the side of the road. And I might offend that child's parents, that man who thinks I'm treating him as 'handicapped', and that stranger who had already made a call on his or her cell phone, but hey, didn't Jesus offend some people too? And He asks me, "Who is your neighbor?"

Why I Write

I'm back and ready! During my days off from writing, I was able to rest my mind and work through some things.

One of those things was the discouragement that came from seeing that none of my submissions last year bore any fruit. I had been daydreaming about how I would tell my husband, family, and friends that I had won a contest or signed a contract... my little heart flutters at the thought of receiving recognition from a big-time editor and admiring glances and attention from people. 

But I have nothing to show for all my hard work last year... or do I? If I write for money and prestige, then no, I have nothing. But that cannot be my reason for writing. I cannot write just to say what someone else wants to hear.

No, I write because God puts words on my heart and in my mind. I write because God opened my eyes to His truth and His glory, and through my writing, I hope to do the same for someone else. I cannot cater to editors and publishers, even if that means I may never be 'published'. (tangent: In one of my submissions for a contest, I quoted I Corinthians 13, even though the magazine was secular. I knew that that might knock me out of the running immediately, but I left that paragraph in anyway.)

God works in me, and I have so much more to learn. This was a good lesson, and I am ready to write again, with a new focus. Here's to another year of writing!

(And thank you for the little notes that you leave on my blog. I am encouraged when I hear that you are encouraged.)

In a Solitary Place

I apologize for not writing for more than a week, but sometimes, it's best for me to take a break because I can overthink life. Rest is good. I'll be back when I'm ready.


Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Mark 1:35

Mustard Seeds

I used to think that missionaries were supers-- supermen, superwomen, super-Christians. They must have a better connection with God; they had text-messaging while I still snail-mailed. Or they had a mountain of faith, compared to my grain of faith.

But Jesus says, "I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."

So my grain of faith should be enough. Enough to fly me across the ocean and and live in a country where English is not spoken. Enough to give me courage to choose work that pays less, but reaches more people. Enough to know that God can change a person, any person.

I discovered today that even missionaries can have faith as small as a mustard seed. We spent the day with our friends William and Larisa (I know this is the third time I've written about them, but most of us have people in our lives who consistently nurture us in loving ways-- William and Larisa are some of mine) and they shared with me that they are unsure of their next destination, but they are sure that they need a home from which they can do their ministry. Where that home will come from? God will provide, as He always had. But it sometimes keeps Larisa up at night. She and her husband discuss it over and over, they pray and they pray, they ask and they ask their connections for guidance and prayer. They want to make good parenting decisions as their children get older, and they ask me-- me!-- for homeschooling ideas. Unlike my idea of the super-missionary-Christian, they often don't have it all figured out before they get on the plane. Their faith right now feels small, as small as a mustard seed. But the difference, I think, between them and me, is that they will still step out with their mustard seed firmly in hand, whereas I would hold back and wait for a sprout, or better yet, a root or branch before I trust God.

We each hold our mustard seeds, and if we all stepped in faith, we would move many mountains. Imagine a world like that!

(Please pray for William and Larisa as they continue to shine the Light for Muslims in Europe, Asia, and Africa. Pray that God will provide a home for them and their six children, a home that they can use to teach and serve.)

The Jell-O Story

     There once was a girl who wanted to make some Jell-O. The shiny, green cubes on the box looked so enticing-- oh she could hardly wait!

     Because she had never made Jell-O before, the girl was sure to read the directions carefully.

     Step 1: In a bowl, mix gelatin with 1 cup boiling water. Stir until melted.

     Step 2: Stir in 1 cup cold water.

     So, the girl got a bowl and a spoon, and put a kettle of water on the stove to boil. But as she waited, her excitement dwindles. What's taking so long? she wondered.

     She checked the stove. Yep, it's on. She waited some more. Any minute now, she told herself. But no whistle, not even a tiny peep, came from the kettle's spout.

     Finally losing her patience, the girl decided to skip onto Step 2. She poured the cold water into the bowl and stirred until the water boiled. Then she measured the hot water, just like the instructions stated, and added it to the green mixture. After a few stirs, the girl spooned the liquid Jell-O into the waiting bowls. Into the refrigerator they went! What a delicious snack they will be!

     A few hours later, the girl returned, eager to enjoy the fruit of her labor. But instead of refreshing, smooth Jell-O, she found bowls of lumpy, green slime.

     What had gone wrong? she thought. She reread the instructions, and realized that the gelatin needed to be melted by the hot water first, then diluted with the cold water. The girl learned two lessons that day: one must be patient when cooking, and following directions are important.

The girl was, of course, myself, and to this day, I am deliberately patient and careful in the kitchen. But my daughters are not. After two minutes of stirring, I hear,

"Is it ready yet?"

"Am I done yet?"

"How much longer, Mom?!"

And that is when I tell them the story of the girl and the Jell-O, not skipping over the fact that the girl was me. My daughters have not yet tired of hearing that story, and the lesson I'm trying to pass on is slowly sinking in. It is my hope that they can learn from my mistake, as simple as it was.

Children LOVE to hear stories. My children especially love to hear stories about my childhood ("Tell us about the time you got bitten by the dog!") This is one of the simplest ways to pass on your narrative. Use stories to teach, to share, and to grow together. Lay them down to help make the path that your child will take.

Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.

Proverbs 22:6

(For more, read my previous post Passing on Your Narrative.)

New Day, New Year, New Mercies

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him."

Lamentations 3:22-24

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, because I think a person should make changes whenever necessary. But I do believe in God's mercies, and that He designed time with a purpose. After a hard day, I can go to bed and look forward to a fresh start in the morning. And if I have several hard days in a row, I can look forward to a fresh start the following week. Because God gave us the rhythms of days, months, and years, we can stop, rest, and start over again with renewed hope and faith. His division of time is a mercy in itself.

So I start this year with a heart full of trust in the One who made this year. Whatever sadnesses and disappointments happened in 2011, I can say, "I will wait for him."