If Smells Had Color

If smells only had colors
I'm certain I would see
Little puffs of brown from the baby next to me.
Halfway through the sermon
My stomach gave a lurch
and I was sorely tempted to sprint right out of church.
The daddy is a'rockin'
The baby gives a coo
and every time dad pats his back
I get a whiff of poo.

Tolerance

I've been watching the news which I should probably shouldn't. It occurs to me that:

Toler​ance is the stick people beat you with when you disagree with them. Sadly the person holding said stick rarely engages in self flagellation."

Treasures in Heaven

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven where moth and rust do not destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matt 6:19

I've been reading a very interesting book entitled The Prodigal God. The book follows the parable of the prodigal son that Jesus taught. In it, the author demonstrates that in this parable, the elder brother is as lost as the younger brother. It has been life changing for me in that I feel as though I am looking at myself through a microscope. Whenever I've read this parable, I have always identified with the older brother and I have had a hard time understanding all of the joy and jubilation about the younger brother's return home. I suppose I take it so personally, because I've tried so hard to prove to myself and to my parents that I am worth loving. See! Look at me, I'M living the way you taught me to live! I've felt the pain of perceived rejection and have compared myself to others. It's been hard for me to understand how it is that parents treat children differently and it's been a process in learning that I can't afford to take it personally.

In the book, the author states, "The anger and superiority of elder brothers, all growing out of insecurity, fear, and inner emptiness, can create a huge body of guilt-ridden, fear-ridden, spiritually blind people..." The question here is what is the elder brother afraid of? I believe that he (or I) is afraid of not being loved. Perhaps he worries that the father loves unequally and that there isn't enough love to fill his heart and make him feel secure in the love of his father.

I have observed that parents do often love unequally. Sometimes, they favor one child and shun another. If you are the child who has been shunned or has been abandoned, it's hard to believe that God could ever truly love you. It's hard to fathom that there is enough of his love to go around. It's hard to really know, in the very kernel of your soul that God delights in you.

As I've been mulling over these truths, I've been thinking about all of the things that elder brothers do to demonstrate their worth. They word very, VERY hard. They accumulate stuff-cars, houses, jewelry, important companions of high social standing all in an effort to show the world and themselves that they matter. In my own life, I've found myself trying to stockpile enough material possessions so that I will feel secure.

Just this weekend, as I was praying about all of my wrong attitudes I realized the contradiction between the way we act and the way Christ acted. Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. So, where was Jesus' treasure? He had so much power and charisma that he could have been the richest man, the most popular man, in the world. He could have had a harem of women vying for his affections and he could have crushed all of the religious and societal leaders of his day. But his treasure was in heaven.

It occurred to me this week that Jesus came to earth to make you and to make me part of his treasure. He endured insults, homelessness, hunger, and a death of capital punishment all so that we would be his treasure in heaven. All so that we could share in the glory that he has there. So, as an elder brother, what am I afraid of and why am I so insecure?

Where my treasure is, there will my heart be also. Thus, I need to focus all of my energies on storing up my treasures where they will really count. I need to stop being a disapproving elder brother and be willing to humble myself and know that God loves me enough that I don't need to be proleptic about protecting myself and my future.

Thankful

Today I am thankful for answered prayers. I am grateful for a God who does for me what I can not do for myself.

My Day! 2004

My Day, by Deborah Oliver

The guys have gone to Vegas, yes they have flown the coop;
And so it stands to reason, I'm ten feet deep in poop.
From noses to bottoms, I get to clean them all
Including the potty that's floating down the hall.

Now I like home improvement, but this one is a bummer
Because I never planned on learning to become a plumber.
I went into the restroom to see that all was cool
And make sure there weren't any sharks 'swimming in the pool'

Something was amiss, there was no water in the bowl,
So I leaned in a bit closer and gave the knob a pull,
I lept back in revulsion as the toilet gave a rend,
And vomited back at me the contents hiding 'round the bend.

I plunged, and swore, and plunged; but it wasn't any use
Why is it that when Brad is gone, life gives me this abuse?
Off I go to Wal-Mart to find myself a snake,
A tool from which no 'occlusions' can hope to escape.

I'm knee deep in poop and it occurs to me
That while I'm at this task I should charge a handsome fee
The pay ain't much and I demand a raise
For everyone one of us who has had this kind of day!

So, let's all have a laugh-this one is on me
Here's to the 27th Wives and my victory!

Enough

I wrote earlier about wanting to be more. I truly do long for that fulfillment. I believe that God has given me that longing, but I am not sure how to achieve the more he would have me to be. Simultaneously, I recognize that this innate drive can be perverted in such a way that I end up attempting to glorify myself rather than God.

Conversely, I recognized something today as I visited with a friend. While part of me longs to be more, there is also a part of me that cries to be Enough. Enough for what? Important enough regardless of my achievements, social status, appearance, wit, etc. ad nauseum, that my parents would stop what they were doing, without thought, if I needed them. I long to be valuable enough to merit consideration, at the very least, to those who are supposed to love me. I suspect I am not the only person in this world who feels that way. In fact, I would guess this intrinsic desire is part of humanity.

My story is a little long and complicated in this regard. How did I arrive at this emotional place? I suppose that as I was growing up I was a little girl who didn't necessarily feel good enough. For reasons that only became apparent in my late twenties, my mother left my father when I was two. I met her again when I was 24. We just didn't have contact for decades and I felt in my child's mind, that I must not have been enough of a reason for her to want to stay. Why wouldn't she want me? Additionally, when I was eleven my beloved grandmother died. It was only later, in a fight with my stepmother, that I learned she committed suicide. This affected me deeply and reinforced a sense that I was continually being left by those I loved.

When my Dad remarried, I had a difficult relationship with my stepmother. In her opinion, I was too fat, not ladylike enough, and never quite adequate enough to warrant unconditional acceptance. She constantly admonished me about what 'nice girls' do and don't do and frequently refused to buy me clothes unless I lost weight. Thus began an obsessive, frantic attempt to be slim enough and to be perfect enough. Compared to what? Some unattainable and highly subjective standard. Clearly that ongoing dynamic led to hurt feelings, resentment, bitterness and not a small amount of conflict. She was one of those people who says the most outrageous things in the heat of an argument; statements intended to inflict pain. Things like, "Look at yourself, no wonder you don't have a boyfriend!" when she felt I was too heavy. Or, "I hope you NEVER have a daughter like you!" (Was I so awful?) For whatever reason I was unable to shake those statements off. They became some of the lies that I, without any awareness on my part, began to believe about myself. "I am not good enough. I'll never be good enough." And while by her standards that may have been the case, those were falsehoods.

The constant, oppressive expectation that I need to be perfect and look perfect caused me to internalize the pressure and pile more expectations upon myself. In some ways, I ended up crippling my own heart. Despite my efforts at obsessive self improvement, I couldn't ever make her happy. Furthermore, I was unable to prove to myself that I was inherently, intrinsically worthwhile and I was unable to feel peace and contentment.

On the other hand, and much to my step mother's revulsion, I was without question my father's favorite child. I reveled in that! In his eyes, I could do no wrong, because I was his princess, which is precisely what the inner soul of any young lady wants to be. :) It was a glorious time in my life. From the view atop my pedestal, the world was my oyster. And in my mind, while others had neglected me, I believed I had at least one person who would never fail me. After all, I would always be a daddy's girl; my father's daughter.

However, as years came and went, so did a successive string of wives. With this most recent wife, I experienced what I thought would NEVER come. The father who raised me, had custody of me as a child, and utterly adored me disappeared. To this day, I roll my eyes as he extols the virtues of her children, their spouses, and her grandchildren. It hurts me deeply to know that I can count the number of their visits on one hand. I guess I always hoped I that the mere existence of my two amazing children would be enough to create a longing in my father for a relationship with them even if he no longer desires one with me.

In truth, I've sinned in this situation as much as anyone. I took my eyes off the prize; off of God my father. I've expected people to fill that part of my heart that can be accessed only by God. I look over the fence and feel bitterness when I perceive a slight instead of immediately refocusing on God and thanking Him for provision.

There have been hard times in my life. Moments when I was utterly, truly abandoned. I spend three agonizing weeks in Barnes Hospital with a ruptured appendix and for the most part, I was alone. My father came once for about five minutes and my step mother popped in to St. Louis to see me; but she went shopping instead. As I type these words, they seem Jerry Springer-esque and absolutely unbelievable. But God stayed with me in my hospital room. He never left me, not for one second. His was the invisible hand I held during the many CAT scans and painful medical procedures. His arms were the ones that held me throughout those long lonely nights in that sixth floor hospital room.

I've cried many tears over the years as so many others have. Wasn't I important enough that my folks would WANT to be with me in the hospital? Aren't I "enough" merely by being their daughter that they would walk on water to be with me in case I died?

I know this sounds like a whine fest. And for many years, it was. In fact, I probably excelled and earned top marks in self pity. I bore my grudge with all the ferocity that only an Italian woman is capable of. But as I grow, God continually reminds me that I am ENOUGH...ENOUGH for him. I am ENOUGH to God merely because I am his child.

In Psalm 27:10, Kind David said, "Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me." Those are powerful words! He takes us just as we are! I am learning, processing, and realizing that it isn't my job to achieve some subjective standard to earn the approval of those around me. That is tantamount to digging through the dumpster behind McDonald's for food, when God himself has invited me to his house for dinner. He reminds me that I will always be welcome there. And next to me, there is an empty chair at the table that is reserved for you. God truly wants you, just as you are, exactly where you are, to be welcomed into his presence.

This slow and progressive realization is helping me to allow myself to be imperfect. What freedom there is in letting those emotional burdens drop! Certainly I'll be tempted to turn back and try to pick them up. But this is a problem that can be solved by abandoning the lies that I have believed about myself and seeking God to fill that need. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever and he will not fail me.

Tears...for Josie

Becoming a mother transformed me from being a 'doer' to being a 'pit crew leader.' It is my job to fix things as they break and ensure that my kids can zip back into the fast lane of being children. I wait off to the side, tools of parenthood at the ready, waiting for the next flat tire. In this accessory role, I am realizing a new kind of pain, a more intense experience of pain. It hurts me to see my children struggling in a new school, missing friends, and attempting to catch their balance in our new city.

In the last two years, we've moved twice. In the last month, we crammed everything that would fit into our camper and drove from Anchorage, Alaska to Colorado Springs. While we are used to change, that never makes it easy especially in the middle of a school year. This week, my heart literally broke for my daughter as she flopped onto the end of my bed, rolled onto her stomach, and began leaking tears. "Mom, I miss Alaska!" she sighed. What does the pit crew do in this instance? I found myself grasping at straws, trying to comfort, but feeling every bit as bereft as she is. How do I soothe her heart? How do I fix this?

Then, if we look around us, everyone cries, everyone experiences some degree of pain. Are the tears we cry lost as they evaporate? Do they ever have an impact? Do they matter? I've been mulling this concept, and so I wrote this brief 'poem' for my daughter. We've read it together and I hope in some small way, she feels that her pain does not go unnoticed by her mother or by God.

TEARS
My heart cries a stream of tears
Each one shimmering as a pearl
You catch them gently, one at a time
Stringing these gems like dewdrops
Along a blade of grass.

When eternity beckons
I'll find not one was lost
Or cried in vain
And that You have kept perfect count!

You will finally show me what you've
Been working on all this while
Each tear a diamond in the crown
Fashioned just for me
Will take my breath away as
they reflect the splendor of
Your Glory