Tiny Titanic... My Tongue Prayer

A bit in the mouth of a horse controls the whole horse.
A small rudder on a huge ship in the hands of a skilled captain
sets a course in the face of the strongest winds.
A word out of your mouth may seem of no account,
but it can accomplish nearly anything—or destroy it!

It only takes a spark, remember, to set off a forest fire.
A careless or wrongly placed word out of your mouth can
do that. By our speech we can ruin the world,
turn harmony to chaos, throw mud on a reputation,
send the whole world up in smoke and go up in smoke
with it, smoke right from the pit of hell.

James 3:4-6 the Message

Talking about controlling this tongue of mine is a bit embarrassing (but what's an red faced moment between reader and blogger... fun for you and positive reinforcement for me... right?) So, we had a rough start to our school morning; there was yelling, some tears, frustrations flying right and left, from parent to child and back again. As I buckled "A" into her car seat and halfheartedly kissed the Stig, I told E! she needed to hustle and quit whining. As the Stig pulled the car out of the garage, I was in such a funk, I didn't even turn and give our traditional family goodbye - the sign language fingers pressed into "I Love You". I headed in to the house to begin my Sabbath (my day of rest.) But there was no rest in me - just restless discontent. What had happened to our morning? Where had we stepped off the happy trail onto the tracks of this train wreck? So I made a split second decision - I needed to talk to my family - I needed to apologize. We still had time... they hadn't been gone more than three whole minutes.

I speed dialed the Stig who picked up on speaker phone... and that's when I heard it...

"Hi, Momma!" E said in this perky little voice. As if nothing had happened. She was doing just what she's seen me do a hundred times, stuff the feelings and answer the phone in a voice nothing like my own. She asked my how I was doing and what my plans were for the day. I sat there with my mouth agape. When my whits came back to their seat, I mustered up the courage to apologize. I told all three of them that my attitude had been stinky that morning, and I really intended to work on that. Both girls were quick to say, "It's ok, Momma!" while the Stig, wizened to my quick fix tricks, stayed quiet. My sweet husband is on to my need to hastily say I'm sorry and move on... Lets say he's heard my phone voice a few times.

My phone voice is not my true voice - it is what I sound like when I'm not sure what or who I'm facing. It can turn on a dime. It feels fake and forced. I don't like that once I identify the caller, it either drops an entire octave and I get real or it continues in a falsetto and I take on a persona that is so bogus even my 4 year old is on to it.

So how do I shed the phone voice and harness this tongue of mine? How do I turn this HUGE ship (our family) with one little rudder (my tongue)?  It starts with a prayer:

Father, reclaim my tongue.
When it wants to fly from this mouth of mine
     cause it to sit quietly in it's resting place.
When criticisms tickle it - when anger burns it
     give me the wisdom to be silent and retain none of fury's sting.
Speak into this heart the words that improve silence...
     and the willingness to discern the difference.
Guide my tongue to be that tiny rudder that turns this big ole' ship around
    and give my children eyes to see me cleaning up the oil spill my tongue has caused
    and a desire to use their mouths to praise and bless - to build and grow.
And thank you for being patient with me while I work on this tiny titanic... my tongue.
Amen.

Now I'm off to paint a few "Watch your Tongue" signs and write this scripture out for my memorization wall. Because really, this is a BIGGIE! And if I can get this one controlled, God can use me for better things...

Which in the end means less of me and more of HIM!

Four Blessings

I love asymmetry... when things are slightly off... not perfectly paired.  A grouping of three, five and seven = I totally dig it!  Pictures that aren't centered. Mismatched patterns. Dishes with flaws and cracks.  Shabby chic. Upcycled. All those things really turn my crank! I once was working on a project with Anna Thomas (who at the time was five years old and wiser than I'll ever be.) I put a grouping of three flowers in the corner of a picture frame and Anna pointed out that I needed to balance out the frame by adding three on the opposite side. I explained that it was asymmetrical and without blinking she replied, "Well I don't like it. I'm VERY symmetrical!" I loved her spunk - and her apparent understanding of a word quite outside her normal vocabulary at the time... but I digress.

As it turns out - I like asymmetry best on my terms. Example: On my way home from grocery shopping - The Stig calls to give me a "heads-up!"

"The girls moved in together, " he said matter of factually. "I dozed off and E said something about how she wanted to sleep in A's room... forever... and then next thing I knew she had moved her stuff into A's room."

"WhAt?" I groaned. This was not part of my PLAN for Saturday. I had laughingly posted to FB this morning that we were on plan #852 (after having exhausted both the English and Greek alphabets worth of letters in ONE morning!)... but this was taking my flexibly and bending me into GUMBY!  I mean I was just getting used to the idea that the crib that had formerly occupied one wall of our home for the last 7.6 years, was in fact on it's way out the door. I was coping (I thought) pretty well with these new changes... making plans to sew a tutu-bedskirt with my mother-in-love.

"Just remember that from the day we knew that "a" was coming, you wanted them to be best friends for life. This is just them trying to find their way. E needs you to allow her to try this out - it will only take about five nights of "A" talking her ear off and they'll soon be back to sleeping in their own pre-appointed rooms, " the Stig encouraged. I was not so easily encouraged.

Later that day, "A" asks me to take a picture of her hands cupped round four tiny M&M's... I resist the urge to grab one out to "make a better shot"... and she tells me, "There's one here for everyone in my family!" Now the shot that had formerly looked "artistically bleh" becomes something precious and sacred. Because I realize - there are FOUR of us - nothing asymmetric there. And I TOTALLY dig that we are four.

Last night (five nights on the dot) we put the girls to bed at 8:15 PM and for the next three hours we laughed and listened as E tried to reason with her four year old roommate, "You have to stop talking! Okay... I have a plan... You lay your head down and I'll tell you a story!" (*ten minutes time elapses*) "Yeah... Now you REALLY have to close your mouth... I've got another plan... this time you whisper quietly into your pillow while I fall asleep." (*more time passes*) "Enough already! Daddy!"

The Stig looks over at me this morning with that "I told you so" grin he's so good at. The girls were impossible to wake up - mainly because they had pulled the seven & four year-old equivalent of an "all nighter!" I had to admit - it was pretty funny - even if we were thirty minutes late for school!

Jeremiah 29:11 talks about God having a plan. Plans that include hope and future - but don't necessarily guarantee symmetry and balance.  I wonder if He looks at my attempts at life and laughs as I try to convince Him, "Okay... I've got a plan. You lay your head down and I'll tell you how this should go!" Does He shake his head and gets the giggles when I try to "perfect" His perfect plans. Does He look at my hands holding four sticky projects and think, "Man, I wish she'd picked up a better number than FOUR!" or does He pour into my outstretched hand more blessings that my dirty palms can contain?

I just love that the Stig was right - the girls are headed back to their own rooms tonight, and without my losing my grip on life over it (*pause and celebrate growth with me!*) And I'm also glad that God's math/balance isn't exactly like mine. Two, Three, Six, Eight... Who do we appreciate?
Isn't God a hoot?

More of you God... less of me!

The Mighty Oak was Once a Little Nut

At an early age my mom "gave" me a hymn and a scripture - to be fair, she gave my sister one of each too. I can remember feeling so special when they read "my psalm" or sang "my hymn" in church. In some way it rooted me to the ancient words to have others join voice and song to confirm what I had come to think of as mine.

And so it was when E was just a bean of promise on the computer screen, we were looking for a cute little name to use when speaking about said bean without calling the baby, "Bean." E was not our first pregnancy and loss had become all to familiar to us - but we decided to claim the promise of Psalm 66:5 "Awesome are your handiworks, O God!" and from the moment we gripped onto that promise, she became "AwEsome" (ok... I just capitalized the 'e' there to be cute!) The hymn I sang as I rocked my ever growing belly in the overstuffed chambray covered rocker my in-love's had given to me, was "Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing"  Six months after she danced into our lives, when my daddy baptized her on my sister & brother-in-law's ranch, we built an ebenezer. Everyone who came to the baptism brought a rock from the place they called home - and we piled them on top of each other as a reminder that God is our "Rock of Help."

When "A" danced onto the scene we had no idea she was coming. To say she was a surprise is the understatement of our lives. We were still grieving the loss of our twins at 18 weeks gestation - and not at all sure which end was up. I hung on to the sweet words of the song "Glory Baby" and spent the next four months sick... thinking the whole time my thyroid was going wacko (which it was) but all the while sweet little "A" was spinning and forming and dancing around my insides. And it came to pass (and pass... and hurl... and upchuck) that on December 19 (the day after our due date for Tripp & Kennady) I pee'd on a pregnancy test and almost fell off the potty when I saw "Touch Down Jesus" = two lines confirming my mother's suspicions. We were already in the second trimester - God totally surprised us - but this time the computer screen held the image of a perfectly formed little person - no bean of promise here! She had hands and feet and eye sockets. We were so blown away. When we showed little E the picture of her little sibling, she said, "Isn't she sweet... let's call her Honey!" I ran for my bible and found her verse in Psalm 119:103, "How sweet are your promises to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth." And with a laugh I KNEW that Honey's song would be "Great is Thy Faithfulness"! As I rocked E to sleep every night we would sing the chorus to my mother earth shaped belly as "A" knit and spun and twirled.

Several nights ago, I was tucking "A" into bed. Somewhere between reading Guess How Much I Love You and reciting her night-time prayers, she asked me to sing the "Acorn" song. Now, she has asked me to sing songs before about purple dragons or ladybugs... so to that vein, I started to make something up (you know the way mom's do - Familiar tune + goofy lyrics = pure silliness and eruptions of laughter.)

"No, Momma! Not a made-up one... the one about my faithfulness!"

Okay... now I knew what she wanted, but what made her call it the "Acorn" song? So she reminded me that ONE TIME when she asked me why I sing songs to her about God, I had told her that, "a little nut grows into a mighty oak." And somehow she came to think of her song as a little nut... a bean of promise... roots going down and spreading deep.

As a parents, both by birth and by choice/of the heart, we do that hard work of loving these little nuts into the mighty oaks of righteousness! (Isaiah 61:3) So I say, love on! Dream big! Pick a hymn of blessing for your child (even if they are 35 and have children of their own!) Choose a scripture - a promise to claim and pray over their lives... choose to be a blessing... choose to be blessed... choose to bless. When you look at the rings on a tree you can see the years that were hard... rings mark things like drought, plight, fire and flood. Make your mark on the rings of your children's lives... mark them with a blessing and stand firm in the knowledge that He "who knit them together in their mother's womb/heart" loves them ever so much more!

Planting Trees means more of you God... and less of me.

Holy Trifecta Batman!

Today is my Trifecta...

It's Derby Day - So there was a lot of horsing around at the Lessner home. We pulled out the stick horses and did a few laps around the living room, hoping to run off some of the excess energy that "A" had built up after spending the last few days home with a "stummy" virus. Special thanks to my parents, Ran & Joyce Loy for the awesome hat from the San Diego Hat Co. I must say, I DO love this hat!

It's Cinco de Mayo - Since I felt a bit of a "stummy" ache today, we are postponing our usual New Mexico Hatch Green Chili Flat Enchiladas and Rita's until later this week... it still counts right? (For my sister's recipe for NM Green Chili check out In the Kitchen!)

And (drum roll please.....)

It's my blog-o-versary - One year ago today, my dear friend Lauren Pickle Day made me this spiffy little resting spot to mark progress in my spiritual journey, wander around in my daydreams and keep written benchmarks for my life with the Stig and these girlies of ours.

Psalm 19 sums up my plea (in this blog) to the true Holy Trifecta:

May the words of my mouth 

And the meditations of my heart

Be pleasing to You, my God

You're my rock and my redeemer

You're the reason that I sing

I desire to be a blessing in Your eyes

Every hour and every moment

Lord, I want to be a blessing in Your eyes.

 (Shane & Shane take me straight to the throne room with their version of this one) 

Sweet friends - my prayer for us as we embark on yet another year of grace, is that we chase after Him like there's no promise of catching Him tomorrow. May we each feel the warmth of His smile as we run headlong into His arms of mercy. What a great day to be His child... We are blessed... and today we stopped to take notice!

So don a funny hat, cook up some food that's good for the soul, run a few laps around the house on a broom (on the off chance that you find yourself in a house without a stick horse), and celebrate today the things that draw you close to the Trinity. 

Three times More of You Lord, and way less of me.

Seawiously!?!?

"...Jesus spoke a prayer of thanksgiving.

 He broke the bread and said, 

'This is my body, which is given for you. 

Do this to remember me.'" 

1 Corinthians 11:24 (God's Word)

It's happening again... He's revealing Himself to me through a common message. One that is echoing in my waking thoughts, whispered prayers and nighttime dreams. I see it on the page of books and colored petitions. I hear it in both the voice of the sage and the child.

Take * Thank * Break * Give
These words were a call to eucharistic living at a recent college retreat the Stig and I helped with. We watched as the simple act of slicing apples, boiling them with a bit of water and some cinnamon - drove the participants into the Stig's kitchen - the place where he shares the language of love through food. Loads of college students - cradling warm bowls of homemade applesauce, and a generous foaming of Redi-Whip, in cupped hands - whispering words of thanksgiving.  The simple act of taking an apple, giving thanks for it, breaking it down - whirring it around an a blender - and giving it to hungry college students (who were the most appreciative group of people we've ever had the pleasure of working with!) was pure gift. I tucked those words away in my prayer journal (take/thank/break/give) - having wrapped doodles and sketches around these words as a benediction - an act of grateful thanks.

Eucharisteo *
I felt led to suggest a book to my Wednesday morning Ladies Bible Study - not even sure why I was drawn to this particular book other than the title - One Thousand Gifts. Opening the pages we found the word "eucharisteo" used over and over again. A call to do just what it's Greek meaning charges, "to feel thankful, to be grateful, to give thanks." I love the way this book is wrecking us for what the world calls "normal living" - I find myself jotting down thanksgivings on the back of grocery store receipts, grabbing the camera to take a gratitude picture for the meal set before me... looking for the blessing in both the beautiful and the ugly. And my Wednesday morning Sistas - we come every week like wrung out dish rags, having wiped up the remains of the day - looking forward to the promise of being rinsed out by a gracious Savior... hallelujah!

The Body of Christ... take it Sewiously *
I was helping "A" clean her room - she was sporting a tutu (as usual) and I was toting a trash bag (doing a bit of Spring culling, if you will.) She was working in the home center - that's what she calls the little kitchen in her room, mainly because that's what they call it at school. Picking up a small plastic poppy seed roll, she turned to me and said in a "vewry" grown up way, "The body of Christ... take it Sewioulsy!" Somewhere along the way, one of us, either the Stig or I, must have told her it was serious... but we missed the mark. We should have told her, "Take and remember. Take and give thanks. Take and break so that you also can give." The great thing about parenting... is knowing that God is the only perfect parent. There's lots of room for grace. So next Sunday if the Lessner's linger at the rail awhile - you know why. We're taking advantage of a teachable moment... with a teachable child. And praying that we too may be More like Him... and less like ourselves!

We are FRamily

The Stig and I come from wonderful Godly families. We are part of a legacy of love that began years before our own parents were born.
The Stig is southern by birth - I am by choice - having drank my share of sweet tea to solidify the deal. Because of the way we were raised, we both got bit by the hospitality bug... but that's only part of the story.
The similarities are striking: Our dads are rock solid - men who love a good joke, are fiercely loyal and love their wives best and most. Both moms are crazy about their grandchildren, are their children's best cheerleaders and their husbands best friends. (We openly refer to them as mothers-in-love...) We each got a sister out of the deal - both of whom are strong of will and spirit - beautiful through and through. Our brothers-in-law who provide for their families, serve God in their daily life and work and helped to create the sweetest niece and nephews this side of the Rio Grande. Those cuties lovingly refer to me as Aunt Spazie... but that is another blog entry!
But having an awesome family doesn't mean that there isn't room in your life for more... like Jello... there's always room for more family.
Sometimes don't you wish you could PICK your family. You know, choose from among your friends. Who, if you could graft them into your family, you would. Well we have... and we call them FRamily. Friends + Family = FRamily!
We coined the word with three other couples about 14 years ago. We found each other and realized that something fit. We were "right" for each other. It's fun because in a family, you just accept an "Aunt Spazie" as part of your birth-rite.  But in a FRamily... you CHOOSE an Aunt Spazie. They get me... that's not to say they always understand my quirky ways... but they accept me.
We've experienced a lot together; baby Jesus in the Nativity play, birthday parties, graduations (Kindergarten & High School), baptisms and confirmations, a grandchild, tons of "inside" jokes, lost teeth, 1st dates (and the dreaded interview by those dates with the Stig), infertility, job loss, and foreclosure. We've shared dark nights of the soul as well as Rockie Mountain highs! When I lost the twins, the FRamily girls brought a meal in and shared it with me. During a recent move, the FRamily packed up our house - ignoring my dust bunnies and 1,000,000 plastic lids - they were the hands of Christ to us. Our FRamily practices hospitality - and we do it well! (Ooh.. I should so do an entire entry on FRamily Values... hold me to that idea!)
Proverbs 17:17 was the second bible verse I memorized as a child, "A friend loves at all times, and a brother was born for adversity." This FRamily does love at all times - even when I'm feeling "un-lovely" - they have wrapped their arms around my shoulders (or at times put their hands over my mouth!) and just LOVED. Freely and with great abandon.
The one thing that we can all point to as the KEY element in our FRamily-ship is our Heavenly Father. He brought us together - and our lives are richer for His blessing of FRamily.
The Lessner's continue to graft others into our FRamily circle... Two fairy God-mothers, four favorites in Canada, an angel in Morocco, a chocolate God-father and the biggest heart in Denver. As our FRamily grows so grows our family; stronger, fuller, and More like Him (less spazie like me!)

Children's Stations of the Cross

Stations of the Cross

 I created these stations for the Contemporary service at Holy Spirit Episcopal Church.
Two years and a "chance" meeting with Lisa Puccio later - and both the book and video formats were birthed!

Thank you to Lisa Puccio who wrote such beautiful words to share this story of sacrifice.

Huge hugs to the kids from Holy Spirit Episcopal School who gave such honest and beautiful voice to those words.

And to those who believe that through art, God can be found again and again, we pray you peace be the journey!

God gets all the credit... all the glory!
Less of me and MORE of you Lord.

Hook, Line & STINKER

The Stig and I have tried to keep up with the Texas pilgrimage of loading our kids in the car, eyes to the bar-ditch, looking for just the right field of bluebonnets to take our annual pictures in.
This year was no exception. We all wore white t-shirts (and can I just tell you how stressful 2 kids and white shirts can be if I let it!?!?) and blue jeans as we headed out into the wild blue yonder to find the perfect place.
The Stig and I are chatting comfortably in the front seat, while Sammy & Dean serenade the girls in the back (nothing like the Rat Pack to set a peaceful mood.) It's one of those times when you have your husband's undivided attention - and I was "All IN" - keeping with the Texas theme... (vague reference to Texas Hold 'Em.) I'm telling him about what I think we should do about the drainage situation at the house, how I believe that we really should try to plant the tomatoes in the ground rather than in containers because everyone tells me it's so much better, and how I've decided its really time to "Blog or get off the Pot!"
E is resting quietly in her booster seat, thumb firmly set in her snaggle-toothed mouth. But "A" is babbling not stop (I have no idea where she gets it!?!?) She is talking to her hand, and to her sister. She is asking about the length of our car ride, her hair and when we're going to get a snow-cone (I'm thinking, in that shirt... Never.) She barely takes a breath before she launches into "I Set Fire to the Rain" at full voice, while Frank croons softly through the car speakers. I reach forward to turn down the noise and realize it's "A"... I ask her politely, to please sing quieter. She sees this as a perfect opportunity to engage me in mindless chatter (she has no idea that this is MY time to fill the Stig's ear!)
I turn to her and ask what she wants. And the little three year old STINKER says, "Oh, nothing Momma. I don't even know what I'm saying... I just wanted you to hear me."
Isn't that really what we all want? To be heard. Jonah, from the belly of the fish said, "I called out to the Lord, out of my distress, and He answered me; out of the belly of  Sheol I cried, and you heard my voice." (Sheol being the realm of the dead - Jonah 2:2)
I wanted the Stig to hear me. "A" wanted her momma to hear her. And we, the children of the Most High God want to be heard. Fun part is He wants us to call on Him... and He wants to answer us too!
I guess the real question is will we take the bait? When we're given the time, will we take God at His word and share with Him our deepest hopes and dreams, our common everyday problems, and our funny little stories?
Today Lord, I want to take you Hook, Line & Sinker (with a side of stinker too!)
Reel time... More of you and less of me.

My Knight in Orange Crocs

This morning started like most school mornings; alarm clock, snooze button, bible study & iced tea, (I never have caught on to that coffee thing - just give me an iced beverage and "Katie-bar-the-door"!) We'd had our snuggle-ups, and were in the midst of the morning rush -  downing breakfast, donning the uniforms and getting in the car.
Monday's are my Sabbath. My day of rest. My time set aside to recharge. So on Mondays the Stig takes the wheel in the carpool line. I get A&E ready for school and out the door, and he pretty much handles things from there.
So E's dawdling over a bowl of rice krispies and bemoaning the fact that I only allow ONE tablespoon of sugar to be added to the milk/cereal mixture. "A" has chosen pop-tarts (I know... the breakfast of champions) and as God would have it, ran from the kitchen because nature was calling.  I am standing next to the fridge, swathed in my fluffy pink towel wrap getting the last of the lunches packed. I shut the door on the fridge, hear an awful sliding noise, feel something heavy hit my left kidney, and then the sound of shattering glass and the skittering of 1,000,852 pieces of glass as they trail across my tile floor.
Before I really have time to process what has happened, I scream. And I don't mean the sweet, "Honey? Can you come into the kitchen for a sec?" I mean SCREAM for the Stig. It was guttural, it was full of fear and it was not in the slightest bit sweet. I knew I was cut, but I had no idea what my real injuries were. I was imagining (at the speed of light) all manner of things.
It was at this point that I realized that E was still in the room. I calmed my voice and told her, in no uncertain terms, to stay put. The Stig comes flying into the room, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, as I hear the water for his shower heating up, and "A" singing to herself (probably into a hairbrush at the bathroom mirror.)
The Stig takes one look at the situation and sees that I am barefoot and bleeding. He tells me where to put my foot down, throws me a towel to staunch the bleeding (which all by the way were just nicks & grazes - no real damage) and leads me out of the kitchen.
I look back at E who is munching away at Snap*Crackle*&Pop, say a quick thank you prayer that she was way out of the line of shrapnel and that "A" for all intents and purposes is indisposed with an audition for American Bathroom Idol.
And it hits me... right between the eyes, as my husband runs for his orange Crocs (did I blog that out loud?), and sweeps up my mess, still with the toothbrush firmly gripped in his mouth. I'm not doing this alone. This man is so good to me. When I screamed, he came running. He is so precious to me - but how often I forget.
I have two friends who right now, because of life/work situations are separated from their husbands. What would they have done this morning if the glass top to their cake pedestal had fallen off their refrigerators. Would they have skyped their husbands mid-scream? Would they have reached for their cell phones before the broom? Probably not. They would have braved the wreckage, rolled up their sleeves (because who really runs around in a fluffy pink towel wrap in the mornings, right?) and gotten the job done.
I am blessed beyond belief. Most days I know it. Some days I need reminders. Today was a noisy, bloody reminder - that man is to be cherished and loved. He is to be respected both in my words and in the tone of them. He is to be honored in his home and outside as well. He is mine - and I must take care of what had been given to me.
One of my devotions, Proverbs 31 Ministries posted to Facebook today, "In the way we talk, think and act... 'Be kind to each other, tenderhearted... (and forgiving)'" Ephesians 4:32 Oh, sweet friend how I needed to be reminded of that today!
So tonight, as I set the table for our Celebration Dinner (it was report card weekend - and we're celebrating progress both big & small, academic & character driven) I'm going to make sure I find a way to honor the Stig... my hero. Maybe an aluminum foil crown - for my knight in shining armor. Who came to my rescue today! And maybe as we sit around the table, eating hot dogs by candle light, I'll find just the right words to tell him again how very much I love him!
I'm heading in to mop the floor by hand - I think I only picked up 1,000,843 pieces of glass and we all know there really were 1,000,852! On my knees Lord, more of you and less of me!

Tooting my own horn...

Our morning drive to school this week found the girls and I grooving to the tune of our favorite "pump you up" song Ready to Go! We'd cracked open the sun roof on "Surely Goodness" (the name of our RED Jetta - the white one is called "Mercy".) The Lessner girls were singing full voice and rocking the choreography!
With one hand on the wheel, I was mentally organizing my "to-do" list for the day, refereeing a debate in the back seat about who got to pick the next song, calling out spelling words to E! while assuring "A" that in fact she would be putting on her socks and shoes when we arrived at school. Oh... and I was cleaning out my purse (having just finished applying my mascara in the rear view mirror - I moved on to the purse purge because that's what I do at red lights.)
"Backpack"... "Wintertime"... (*insert words of encouragement here*) take a sip of water and a vitamin... "Yes, 'A' you have to wear socks..." My hands were no where near 10 OR 2 as I dug deeper into the purse; one dead receipt for bread and nail polish, the remains of snacks long since consumed by my children, loose change... HONK!
I look around thinking, "What goober honked at me?" The girls chimed in with a question, "What did you do?" to which I launched into a diatribe about how just because someone honks at you does not necessarily mean that you've done something wrong - it sometimes a matter of opinion blah, blah, blah until the their eyes glazed over and they began a conversation about their school's policy on bubblegum.
I began to look around for the "honker" and saw that my "next-door-driver" was starring at me as if to say, "What? Why did you honk at ME?" at which point I noticed my hand resting suspiciously across the center of my steering wheel. That's when the light bulb went on... I AM THAT HONKER! I gave the (not-to-be-confused-with-a-honker) fellow driver the obligatory "I'm sorry" look and placed my hands back at the aforementioned proper driving position and continued our commute as one being sent to the principal's office. Mine was the drive of the contrite - I had seen the error of my honk - and it had me thinking.
Many times I have prided myself on being a multi-tasker. Someone who can juggle many things - and make it look effortless. And yet I know the danger of that thought process as well. Often I miss being present in the moment because I've "got to get a picture of that" or I can think of a million things that are (in reality) "urgent unimportant" and allow the "urgent important" to take a backseat. In all honesty - this is my SECOND attempt at this blog today. I had it all ready to hit publish and instead hit a little red x... UGH! Distracted and busy are more than buzz words to me - they can suck the Jesus plumb out of me if I'm not careful.
So, today, I'm going to ask as the psalmist did that God, "...direct my footsteps according to His Word, so that no sin might rule over me." (Psalm 119:133 paraphrased) A great way, might I add, to start the first day of Spring Break!
And in this may we find so much less of me, and soooooooo much MORE of YOU!

Be honest... then TRUST!

Psalm 13:1-2 & 5-6
"How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?
But I will trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for He has been good to me."

You know God's really trying to get your attention on something when a scripture keeps popping up - in multiple unrelated places... like so many dandelions in spring.
Four times this week, Psalm 13 has come to me, once through a bible study, the next time I caught myself singing one of the phrases (actually referencing Psalm 40 - but with that same question, "How long?") Another time, I was leafing through an old notebook and found a reference to Psalm 13 in the margin; thinking, "This address sounds vaguely familiar!?!?" I looked it up and found myself face to face with the question again, "How long?
Then this morning, I opened up my email account and found that a devotional I subscribe to was using Psalm 13 as the basis for today's meditation. Now I'm beginning to think He's trying to tell me something. (I know "Duh!" right?)
That's when I saw it on the page of my bible. In green pen I had written some time ago,

"Be honest... then TRUST!" 

How often do I try to shield God from my true thoughts and feelings - like He needs me to edit my real emotions so as not to offend Him. Yet here in the pages of my bible I have evidence, that King David (a man after God's own heart... something I want to be after) was honestly exasperated. David cries out to God with a straightforward annoyance, "How long?" He was being honest... truthful, sincere, candid... frank. Whatever you want to call it.
And yet I sit before the Lord with an eraser - furiously writing, erasing... re-thinking... rubbing my pink gum eraser plum through my mind - much like a first grader and math homework. When clearly, God wants me to be honest with Him. He'd rather I spell it out as clearly, plainly and with as much emotion as this drama-momma has within her. It's like God's inviting me through David's example, "Just get it out, baby-girl! Get it off of you... and then trust that I'm listening, that I'm working all things together for your good."
Beth Moore said on Tuesday at 1st Baptist in our The Law of Love - Lessons from the Pages of Deuteronomy, "It's impossible for God to get tired of us!" I'm holding on to that promise today... with all that is in me! Believing that He wants my direct questions... and then my TRUST!
What about you sweet friend? Are you crying "How long?" Know that He hears you and is not surprised by your frankness... Let it go... Get it out. And then TRUST!
Oh, that in the end we may have more of you Lord, and less of ourselves!