Restoration

The basics.   That's what I'm relearning right now; the basics of my faith.  Lately, I've forgetten what is most important.  I've lost myself in theology and homiletics and doctrines.  Now I'm trying to find myself again in the simple, beautiful truths of the Gospel.  

I've been challenged to give up the unnecessary tasks that I've been clinging to, and slow down the pace that I've kept for so long.  So I rose to the challenge and started analyzing my life to see what I could give up and delegate and eliminate.   It hasn't been easy, but it's been necessary and refreshing.  Not only was I presented with the challenge to lay aside excess responsibility, but I've been reminded to engage in hobbies that refresh my spirit.   

It feels strange to type that;  an oxymoron.  When I think of hobbies, I don't think "spiritual growth."   I think "waste of time."   But with help from friends and the One who lives within me, I'm learning that my way of thinking isn't always right.  I'm remembering that it's in the most unexpected times that God speaks most clearly to my heart.  

Over the past month, I've given up several responsibilities that were monopolizing my time.  So there've been a few minutes of free time (gasp).  Last week, I got home from work and went down to my basement and hauled up an old coffee table that I picked up for free.  This coffee table is downright ugly.  It's finished in an orangy-gunstock color.  Someone used it as a workbench, so there's a dozen different colors of stain on the top, along with several holes from varying sizes of drill bits.  But I can't tell you how solid and sturdy that table is.  I about put my back out just carrying it up the stairs.  

When I first saw the table, I didn't see the ugly stain or the drill holes.  I saw its solidity, and the potential for what it could be with some elbow grease and a little know-how.  I'm currently right in the middle of refinishing it.   It's been slightly disassembled and heavily sanded and thoroughly cleaned.   I had to get down to the "bare bones" of the structure before I could start refinishing it for my intended purpose.  

And while I've been disassembling and sanding and cleaning, God has been reminding me that this is what the Church sometimes looks like: a pile of unwanted, underutilized furniture.  I can't tell you how many men and women that I've talked with lately that have absolutely no idea how much they have to offer.    When they look at the themselves, they see nicks and scratches.  They see all the damage that the world has done.  Maybe some of the damage was self-inflicted.  They feel like they've been discarded and left out on the curb for trash day.  They've believed the lies that they're unwanted or unskilled or unsightly.  But I've been blessed enough to be able to see beyond the surface.  Sometimes, God gives me glimpses of how solid and sturdy people are.  He lets me see the potential that lies within an individual.    He has reminded me that He's able to disassemble, repair, and refinish hearts and minds.  He has reminded me that He can accomplish His purposes with willing hearts.  He has reminded me that He is in the business of restoration.  

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: the old has gone, the new is here!"

Not the Happiest Mother's Day

All I wanted for Mother’s Day was a card from my husband and a picture of me and my kids all dressed up and ready for church.  I received neither.   I left for church fuming because my husband didn’t spend $4.99 on an overpriced Hallmark card designed by someone sitting in a cubicle.   I was doubly mad because my two-year old decided to hate me and didn’t want to sit still for two seconds to take a picture with me and her brother.  

I’ll be honest...  I didn’t have some instance of revelation or some heart stopping moment that caused me to snap out of my horrendous mood.  I’m stubborn, so it took me an entire day to realize how petty and childish I was being.  

I know there are some of you who think Mother’s Day should be a day for honoring the woman who birthed you.  There should be phone calls and cards and flowers and breakfasts in bed and jewelry and heartfelt letters.   I had that expectation this morning.  I thought that after spending 18 months of pregnancy, the least my husband could do was buy a stinkin’ card!  And M looked really cute this morning with her tights and tunic top and flower headband.  All I wanted was one picture! 

But I made myself choose joy instead of anger.  And over the course of the day, my mood changed.   My husband didn’t buy me an overpriced card for Mother’s Day.   But he does leave me notes of appreciation and encouragement all throughout the year, for no reason at all.   He didn’t make me breakfast in bed or take me out to dinner.   But he always does the dishes after dinner, and helps fold laundry when it starts to pile up.   

And my kids wouldn’t sit still for a photo.   But I’m thankful that they’re healthy enough to run around and throw a fit in protest.   That picture wouldn’t have been representative of what life at our house looks like, anyway.   We don’t live in our “Sunday clothes.”  I spend the majority of my time without makeup.  Who am I kidding?  Most of the time I refuse to put on basic supportive undergarments.   And M generally has breakfast in her hair, and dirt on her hands.  And L typically smells like poop or spit up.  I’m okay with that.  

So instead of focusing on what I didn’t get on this one day of the year, I looked at what I do have the other 364 days of the year, and I’m thankful to have been given so much.