Staying Upright

Posted on September 17, 2014 by Margaret

Emerald, my 7th-of-9 grandchildren, will be a one-year-old for only another month or so. Her cousin Andrew from England (#8) will be one for 8 more months. In the general scheme of things, both are relatively new walkers, and watching them get around is comedic entertainment.

A walk around the block is an athletic event for a new walker, and both Emerald and Andrew still lead with their tummies, shoulders back, arms out to the side for balance. It’s a charming, brief stage of life.

When a baby is learning to walk, he falls down continually, though he eventually develops a toddle and falls less often. Still, it doesn’t take much to throw him to the ground. But for all one-year-olds, popping up without damage is the usual outcome of a fall.

A school child who falls doesn’t pop up as readily. Tears flow, and there might be a need for a cartoon-enhanced Band-Aid. But he, too, heals quickly and forgets his tumble in a hurry.

By the time we’re adults, falls are nearly non-existent. We’ve become good on our feet and sure of our step. If we do go down, it’s quite a crash, and before we get up, we pause to see if we’re hurt. Often it’s 24 hours later that we “see” what we really did through stiff muscles and fresh bruises.

The other day I took a fall of my own after tripping over a lamp cord. No harm was done, and I was glad no one saw me, but it made me decide I didn’t want to fall again. A broken bone, common at my age, would be less than convenient, and I’m making an effort to walk carefully, not carelessly.

If we live long enough, however, none of us will be walking. Old folk’s homes make good use of wheelchairs, and as the Bible says, aged people are sometimes taken places they don’t want to go. That’s because they can’t walk in the other direction.

When that time comes, our walking will have to be done in another realm, the realm of faith. Scripture tells us it’s best to walk by faith in God rather than by sight. The verse implies we ought to be faith-walking throughout life, not just in old age, depending on God’s guidance rather than on what we see.

When we’re able-bodied, walking through life without many physical falls, it’s easier to fall spiritually and not know it. But when we’re in a bed or wheelchair, faith-walking comes more readily. Maybe that’s the best kept secret of old age.

Meanwhile, I’m seeing two little one-year-olds walking with enthusiasm and managing life completely by sight, not by faith. But that’s ok for now, because once in a while they walk right into the arms of a grateful grandma.

“We walk by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7)

Praying and Praising with Mary

I’m praising the Lord that medical personnel found a good vein during Monday’s infusion.
I’m also thankful I have only 3 infusions left (out of 18 total).

Making a Good Impression

Posted on September 17, 2014 by Margaret

Bookstore shelves are loaded with parenting titles, but the one I like best is a 1979 book by Anne Ortlund: CHILDREN ARE WET CEMENT. It’s a powerful statement with accurate parenting implications.

When workers poured the concrete for our patio 28 years ago, our five children each pressed their palms into the wet cement, along with a quarter from their birth years. I pressed in a penny dated that year, 1986, next to the line-up of hands, to mark the date those childhood palms were set. As soft as the concrete was when we touched it, shortly thereafter it became rock-hard and has been that way ever since. Without the use of a jack-hammer, the hand impressions are permanent.

As children arrive into our families, they’re soft and impressionable, “wet” with potential. Parenting them is the most important assignment we’ll ever get, a serious responsibility given to us by the Person who created every baby and has specific plans for each life. The way we live in front of them leaves a permanent mark.

While spending time with my grandchildren this week, I’ve seen again how supple the mind of a child really is. Children spend the lion’s share of their waking hours imitating the rest of us. If we open a kitchen drawer, as soon as we close it, a watching child opens it again, following our example.

Little ones don’t need a reason to imitate us. They do it instinctively. We own the power to be examples for good or evil, an enormous responsibility that should cause us to keep our lives clean as we go along.

Modeling well in front of one and two year olds is easy. In front of teenagers it’s more difficult.

But we do our best, because we want to give our children the strongest possible springboard into adulthood. Despite multiple failures and a list of if-only’s, we keep trying. Knowing we’re being carefully watched is a strong motivator!

As a child of God, I wonder if I’m carefully watching Jesus in the same way. Do I study his life and try to emulate him? Or do I dismiss that possibility, knowing I could never match him? Jesus instructed us to watch what he did, then copy it. Do I?

Of course I’m going to fall short, just as children fail to duplicate adult behavior. But that doesn’t keep them from trying, and the same should be true for me. Although I’ll never be able to exude the fruit of the Spirit as flawlessly as Jesus did, with practice I can improve.

Watching my grandchildren try, fail, and keep trying encourages me to do the same.

“Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” (John 13:14-15)

Coming Up Short

Posted on September 15, 2014 by Margaret

Until recently at my house we were still working with an ancient fuse box and glass screw-in fuses. Since we had circuit-breakers at our last house, moving to the cottage brought an electrical learning curve. At first I couldn’t tell if a fuse was blown or good, and it was a guessing game trying to link their power with certain areas of the house. Gradually, though, the fuse box and I became friends… until last summer.

My electric water heater would work fine for a couple of weeks, then go cold. I’d replace a couple of fuses, and it would work again until a few weeks later. One day while at the hardware store buying more fuses, I described this to the clerk. “Are you using the right number?” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “two of them.”

“No, I mean the number on the fuse. They have different strengths. Check your fuse box. Sometimes it says.”

And sure enough, I’d been using 20’s in two holes needing 30’s, shorting on power to the water heater. After I corrected my error, all was well. If only life’s other shortages were as easy to repair: shortages of sleep, money, patience, energy, wisdom, all kinds of things.

Each of us has felt pinched in specific ways from time to time. For example, every new parent knows about sleep shortages and later learns about patience shortages when their children test them.

Nate and I had financial shortages for many years. Families in other countries find themselves short of food or medicine. People in jobs that require creativity find themselves short of ideas, and those needing physical strength in their work become short of energy.

But the worst is when we feel shorted by God, that he hasn’t come through like he said he would. We claim his promise to provide for our needs and wonder why we’re short on cash. We put him first, believing he’ll direct us, then wonder why we’re unemployed.

I’ve found it helpful not to look at the current-day shortage but rather at past provision. It’s the manna principle. God told the hungry Israelites to collect only enough for “today.” If they gathered extra, it rotted.

That’s often how we define our shortages: “I made it through today but I need to know I’ll have enough for tomorrow.”

If we apply the manna principle, we’ll focus on the first half of that sentence rather than the last. Worrying about stockpiling “extra” is wasted effort.

I remember when a grandchild asked me for some juice. She usually only drank half, so I filled her cup accordingly. As I gave it to her, she cried out, “No! All the way full!”

Thinking she must be very thirsty, I filled it to the top and handed it to her. She said, “Thank you,” and skipped off to play. Later I found her cup. She’d drunk only half.