As I walked in the door of the little soup kitchen a pleasant sight greeted me. People sat at the tables visiting and chatting with each other. A warm feeling of happiness filled the small room. As I began talking with the old women, the injured men I realized that these people were not all that different from myself.Of course I have plenty of food and they have none, but I realized that they were just people that needed God's love too. As I began serving the tasty food their eagerness, their excitement broke my heart. The looks of sheer joy on their faces at the food I am so privileged to enjoy every day humbled me. Suddenly my problems seemed minor and inconsequential. As I looked them each in the eye, instead of seeing dirty, weather worn old women and raggedy little children I saw souls longing for Jesus’ love. It brought me joy to see that my little act of kindness, just a few hours out of my busy day brought so much happiness to these people. As I sat on the floor playing a wild game of duck, duck goose with these tiny kids I realized that there was no where I would rather be. I was just a fifteen-year-old girl trying to feed the souls of the people around me and I feel like I was blessed even more than I was a blessing. Apparently my joy showed through my face because as I was walking out a shiny faces old man smiled at me and said "Girl, your smile could light up the darkest room".
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Feeding Souls by Sunny
As I walked in the door of the little soup kitchen a pleasant sight greeted me. People sat at the tables visiting and chatting with each other. A warm feeling of happiness filled the small room. As I began talking with the old women, the injured men I realized that these people were not all that different from myself.Of course I have plenty of food and they have none, but I realized that they were just people that needed God's love too. As I began serving the tasty food their eagerness, their excitement broke my heart. The looks of sheer joy on their faces at the food I am so privileged to enjoy every day humbled me. Suddenly my problems seemed minor and inconsequential. As I looked them each in the eye, instead of seeing dirty, weather worn old women and raggedy little children I saw souls longing for Jesus’ love. It brought me joy to see that my little act of kindness, just a few hours out of my busy day brought so much happiness to these people. As I sat on the floor playing a wild game of duck, duck goose with these tiny kids I realized that there was no where I would rather be. I was just a fifteen-year-old girl trying to feed the souls of the people around me and I feel like I was blessed even more than I was a blessing. Apparently my joy showed through my face because as I was walking out a shiny faces old man smiled at me and said "Girl, your smile could light up the darkest room".
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
My 40 Days for Life Experience
"I will never be the same again, I can never return, I've closed the door. I will walk the path, I will run the race, and I will never be the same again." -Hillsong
Sometimes an experience comes along that changes the fabric of who you are as a person. Deep inside. I have recently experienced just such a watershed moment. Nearly three weeks ago, I went to pray outside of an abortion clinic for the first time.
As I got out of my van half a block away, I did not feel anxious or apprehensive, even though I was going into a new situation. I felt like I was born for this moment. I had a sense that this was an important beginning. Goodness knows I had always wanted to do something to help. As I made my way to the sign up sheet for the 40 Days For Life, I saw other prayer volunteers walking up and down the sidewalk praying. A sweet lady with a rosary asked me if I was "going in there" or if I was here to pray. As I signed in and got my sign, she and the others were very helpful. All of a sudden, I looked up into the parking lot of the clinic, saw people coming in and leaving, and the full truth and reality of what I had until then merely known intellectually smacked me in the chest and grabbed me by the throat, leaving me breathless. Women were going in there, in that unassuming brick building, carrying their babies inside them. They came out empty. Those little babies were being murdered almost before my very eyes. Dear God. For the rest of the time, all I could do was hold my sign and cry. Poor little babies. Poor girls who were deceived by this culture of death surrounding us.
What could I do? What in the name of all that is holy could I DO? No one can put back together a torn apart infant; no one can put back together the torn apart heart that I knew these women would have one day, maybe even today. "Dear Jesus, you can do all things. Won't you please look down here upon us, your poor desperate people, and save them?"
How could I possibly love the boyfriends who were shooting the breeze and laughing with the guard while inside their children were ripped from the one place in all this harsh, cold world where they should be safe? How could I possibly love the clinic worker who shouted,"We'll take good care of your daughters when they come to us too."? Jesus, you love them. I want to.
I spent the evening completely immobilized. I lay in my bed all evening, tending to things when I had to, but feeling as if my heart was being squeezed by a giant, invisible fist. Now I know it was. The potter must sometimes crush and squeeze His clay in order to make it softer, and more fit for His purposes. I have been back. I will continue to go back. It is hard, yes, and sometimes I will cry. I know that Jesus weeps over this injustice, and this servant is not above her master. I weep, and I will never be the same again.
Sometimes an experience comes along that changes the fabric of who you are as a person. Deep inside. I have recently experienced just such a watershed moment. Nearly three weeks ago, I went to pray outside of an abortion clinic for the first time.
As I got out of my van half a block away, I did not feel anxious or apprehensive, even though I was going into a new situation. I felt like I was born for this moment. I had a sense that this was an important beginning. Goodness knows I had always wanted to do something to help. As I made my way to the sign up sheet for the 40 Days For Life, I saw other prayer volunteers walking up and down the sidewalk praying. A sweet lady with a rosary asked me if I was "going in there" or if I was here to pray. As I signed in and got my sign, she and the others were very helpful. All of a sudden, I looked up into the parking lot of the clinic, saw people coming in and leaving, and the full truth and reality of what I had until then merely known intellectually smacked me in the chest and grabbed me by the throat, leaving me breathless. Women were going in there, in that unassuming brick building, carrying their babies inside them. They came out empty. Those little babies were being murdered almost before my very eyes. Dear God. For the rest of the time, all I could do was hold my sign and cry. Poor little babies. Poor girls who were deceived by this culture of death surrounding us.
What could I do? What in the name of all that is holy could I DO? No one can put back together a torn apart infant; no one can put back together the torn apart heart that I knew these women would have one day, maybe even today. "Dear Jesus, you can do all things. Won't you please look down here upon us, your poor desperate people, and save them?"
How could I possibly love the boyfriends who were shooting the breeze and laughing with the guard while inside their children were ripped from the one place in all this harsh, cold world where they should be safe? How could I possibly love the clinic worker who shouted,"We'll take good care of your daughters when they come to us too."? Jesus, you love them. I want to.
I spent the evening completely immobilized. I lay in my bed all evening, tending to things when I had to, but feeling as if my heart was being squeezed by a giant, invisible fist. Now I know it was. The potter must sometimes crush and squeeze His clay in order to make it softer, and more fit for His purposes. I have been back. I will continue to go back. It is hard, yes, and sometimes I will cry. I know that Jesus weeps over this injustice, and this servant is not above her master. I weep, and I will never be the same again.
Oatmeal Kisses
I, for one, need to remember how fleeting the days of childhood are, and treasure each one.
Sloppy Oatmeal Kisses......
A young mother writes: "I know you've written before about the empty-nest syndrome -- that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now, I'm up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots. The baby is teething; the boys are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you.''
OK. One of these days you'll explode and shout to the kids, "Why don't you grow up and act your age?"
......and they will.
OR:
"You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do. And don't slam the door!"
......and they don't.
You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy -- bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way.''
.......and it will.
You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you'll say, "Now, there's a meal for company.''
.....and you'll eat it alone.
You'll say: "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do your hear?''
.....and you'll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghtetti.
No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms.
No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps.
No more clothespins under the sofa.
No more playpens to arrange a room around.
No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent
No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathrooms.
No more iron-on-patches, wet, knotted shoestrings, tight boots, or rubber bands for ponytails.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it.
No baby sitter for New Year's Eve.
Washing only once a week.
Seeing a steak that isn't ground.
Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings.
No car pools.
No blaring radios.
No one washing her hair at 11 o'clock at night.
Having your own roll of Scotch tape.
No more dandelion bouquets.
Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste.
No more sloppy oatmeal kisses.
No more tooth fairy.
No giggles in the dark.
No knees to heal, no responsibility.
Only a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?'' and the silence echoing,
"I did."
by Erma Bombeck
Sloppy Oatmeal Kisses......
A young mother writes: "I know you've written before about the empty-nest syndrome -- that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now, I'm up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots. The baby is teething; the boys are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you.''
OK. One of these days you'll explode and shout to the kids, "Why don't you grow up and act your age?"
......and they will.
OR:
"You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do. And don't slam the door!"
......and they don't.
You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy -- bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way.''
.......and it will.
You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you'll say, "Now, there's a meal for company.''
.....and you'll eat it alone.
You'll say: "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do your hear?''
.....and you'll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghtetti.
No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms.
No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps.
No more clothespins under the sofa.
No more playpens to arrange a room around.
No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent
No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathrooms.
No more iron-on-patches, wet, knotted shoestrings, tight boots, or rubber bands for ponytails.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it.
No baby sitter for New Year's Eve.
Washing only once a week.
Seeing a steak that isn't ground.
Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings.
No car pools.
No blaring radios.
No one washing her hair at 11 o'clock at night.
Having your own roll of Scotch tape.
No more dandelion bouquets.
Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste.
No more sloppy oatmeal kisses.
No more tooth fairy.
No giggles in the dark.
No knees to heal, no responsibility.
Only a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?'' and the silence echoing,
"I did."
by Erma Bombeck
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Kids in the Kitchen
Lately I've realized that we've been concentrating very hard on the academic side of education. That's great. But I do want to include a few more practical living skills. So, what we are going to do is this: teach each child (besides the baby) to cook two meals, and each week they will do that until they have mastered those two. Then they get two more.
Sunny the Teenage Wonder is already quite a capable cook, but would like to expand her skills. We'll be having chicken a l'orange for a few weeks, it looks like. Ivanhoe, my knight in shining armor is eight and will do well with pigs in a blanket.
I think it will be fun. And give me a few nights off dinner duty! If I can ever figure out how to put pictures on here then I'll post some.
In addition to that Sunny will be honing her photography skills. I'm not sure what to have Ivanhoe do besides swordfight constantly, maybe drawing lessons from our Draw Squad book.
Wish me luck!
Sunny the Teenage Wonder is already quite a capable cook, but would like to expand her skills. We'll be having chicken a l'orange for a few weeks, it looks like. Ivanhoe, my knight in shining armor is eight and will do well with pigs in a blanket.
I think it will be fun. And give me a few nights off dinner duty! If I can ever figure out how to put pictures on here then I'll post some.
In addition to that Sunny will be honing her photography skills. I'm not sure what to have Ivanhoe do besides swordfight constantly, maybe drawing lessons from our Draw Squad book.
Wish me luck!
All the Moms Will Understand
Sometimes, in this hectic life, a little humor is necessary. So, here is a day in my life. I found this old joke, and it seemed quite appropriate.
How many women with PMS does it take to screw in a light bulb?
One. ONE!! And do you know WHY it only takes ONE? Because no one else in this house knows HOW to change a light bulb. They don't even know the bulb is BURNED OUT. They would sit in this house in the dark for THREE DAYS before they figured it OUT. And once they figured it out they wouldn't be able to find the light bulbs despite the fact that they've been in the SAME CUPBOARD for the past SEVENTEEN YEARS.
But if they did, by some miracle, actually find the light bulbs, TWO DAYS LATER the chair that they dragged from two rooms over to stand on to change the STUPID light bulb would STILL BE IN THE SAME SPOT!! AND UNDERNEATH IT WOULD BE THE CRUMPLED WRAPPER THE STUPID @*!#$% LIGHT BULBS CAME IN! WHY?! BECAUSE NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE EVER CARRIES OUT THE RUBBISH!!
IT'S A WONDER WE HAVEN'T ALL SUFFOCATED FROM THE PILES OF RUBBISH THAT ARE 12 FEET DEEP THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE HOUSE. THE HOUSE!! IT WOULD TAKE AN ARMY TO CLEAN THIS...
I'm sorry... what did you ask me?
Friday, November 6, 2009
The Real World Meets the Chicken Coop
How many of you were threatened with physical harm by one of your co-workers today? Ladies, were any of you threatened with assault by one of the men you work with? Did anyone touch you inappropriately as you walked past? Of course not you say? Well then, what about laugh at you because you've gained some weight in the past few years and call you hurtful names in front of everyone? Or if you are a man, were you mocked today because you aren't as tall, muscled or manly as some of the other men you work with? No? You're probably thinking about how such things just don't usually happen in your world. About how uncommon that would be. About how if there were not a good and quick way to stop such intimidation, you'd be looking for a new job very quickly.
Well then, why do we send our children to places where this behavior is common? In the adult world, most of us do not look for terrible labels to put upon others, then publicly taunt them day after day. But children do. Everyone has heard the phrase "children can be so cruel." Yes they can. More cruelty happens than we as adults would be willing to put up with. Yet many send their young and vulnerable children, these who they love so much and would give their very lives for, into this gauntlet every day to "be salt and light." Children are very impressionable. Tell them who they are enough and that is who and what they become. Fat girl. Hoe. Wimp. Stupid. Scum bag. Are we sending those who we should be protecting out into a situation we ourselves would not be willing to face, day after day, year after year?
So many times we tell ourselves that things are not this way at our childrens school, they have a great teacher. I have worked in the classroom environment, and all of my readers have gone to school in one. The teacher is just one person. Please, don't place such an unrealistic expectation on her. She can not monitor every communication that goes on among 20-30 students. Surely you remember? This woman can not possibly be expected to assume responsibility for what goes on when she is trying to teach, on the playground, in the bathrooms, and that whispered word in the hall.
Maybe your child is not one of the ones labeled so harshly. I am so happy for you. But are they one of the ones who is intimidating others? Please, don't just quickly say "of course not, we are a Christian family. We teach him better." What children do to learn to survive in a community of under-supervised and often unkind peers would surprise you. If nothing else, they are learning to stifle who they really are so they will not be picked on. The wonderful person your child came into this world as is submerged under this "groupthink", this pack mentality. So he can survive.
If you have ever owned chickens, then you have a great example of a group of children with the pack mentality. There are usually a few dominant chickens. They get the best places to sleep in the roost, they get the best places to peck for seeds and bugs. The other chickens know when they see them coming to scoot over or be pecked. And God have mercy on the poor chicken who gets an open wound. The others will mercilessly and viciously peck him until he is dead.
Poor wounded kid, whose ears stick out too much. Poor little girl, who weighs a lot. Poor pecked boy who just does not fit in somehow, and is ridiculed day after day. I'm so sorry your momma thinks you should "learn to deal with it, we all have to deal with it sometime." ANATHEMA!! Your parents are not spit on in the hall every day while the others snicker. And all the time they are rationalizing your agony...peck...peck....peck....you're hurting, why are they doing this to you....."what's wrong with me?....I'm such a loser"....peck....peck...."why does it have to be this way, Mom can't I please stay home from school?"...peck....peck. Then you wonder why they turn to drugs and alcohol, sex, cutting, binging and purging, and isolate themselves in their rooms or on the computer as soon as they're old enough. Why don't they communicate with you any more? YOU PUT THEM IN THIS POSITION. You let this happen! They've learned to deal with it on their own the best they can with a parent who believes that their child should have to deal with things they themselves do not.
And if your young person is on the other side, congratulations. You have either raised a dominant chicken or they've put their trust and efforts somewhere other than in the loving heart of their parent. You may still have a great relationship by the grace of God. I'm happy for you. But she has still seen and learned day after day a lesson not true in the "real world." Fit in or be ridiculed. Walk to the beat of someone else's drum.
I know how much you love your child. I am not saying that anyone is deliberately out to hurt their precious son or daughter. I have perhaps spoken harshly in this post. It's nothing against you, reader. I simply felt the need to speak very candidly. I want children to be placed above our race for the status quo. All I ask is that we remove our rose colored glasses long enough to stare into the possibly harsh light of the truth. And though its glare sometimes blinds, I think our beloved young people will be better off for our efforts to see.
Well then, why do we send our children to places where this behavior is common? In the adult world, most of us do not look for terrible labels to put upon others, then publicly taunt them day after day. But children do. Everyone has heard the phrase "children can be so cruel." Yes they can. More cruelty happens than we as adults would be willing to put up with. Yet many send their young and vulnerable children, these who they love so much and would give their very lives for, into this gauntlet every day to "be salt and light." Children are very impressionable. Tell them who they are enough and that is who and what they become. Fat girl. Hoe. Wimp. Stupid. Scum bag. Are we sending those who we should be protecting out into a situation we ourselves would not be willing to face, day after day, year after year?
So many times we tell ourselves that things are not this way at our childrens school, they have a great teacher. I have worked in the classroom environment, and all of my readers have gone to school in one. The teacher is just one person. Please, don't place such an unrealistic expectation on her. She can not monitor every communication that goes on among 20-30 students. Surely you remember? This woman can not possibly be expected to assume responsibility for what goes on when she is trying to teach, on the playground, in the bathrooms, and that whispered word in the hall.
Maybe your child is not one of the ones labeled so harshly. I am so happy for you. But are they one of the ones who is intimidating others? Please, don't just quickly say "of course not, we are a Christian family. We teach him better." What children do to learn to survive in a community of under-supervised and often unkind peers would surprise you. If nothing else, they are learning to stifle who they really are so they will not be picked on. The wonderful person your child came into this world as is submerged under this "groupthink", this pack mentality. So he can survive.
If you have ever owned chickens, then you have a great example of a group of children with the pack mentality. There are usually a few dominant chickens. They get the best places to sleep in the roost, they get the best places to peck for seeds and bugs. The other chickens know when they see them coming to scoot over or be pecked. And God have mercy on the poor chicken who gets an open wound. The others will mercilessly and viciously peck him until he is dead.
Poor wounded kid, whose ears stick out too much. Poor little girl, who weighs a lot. Poor pecked boy who just does not fit in somehow, and is ridiculed day after day. I'm so sorry your momma thinks you should "learn to deal with it, we all have to deal with it sometime." ANATHEMA!! Your parents are not spit on in the hall every day while the others snicker. And all the time they are rationalizing your agony...peck...peck....peck....you're hurting, why are they doing this to you....."what's wrong with me?....I'm such a loser"....peck....peck...."why does it have to be this way, Mom can't I please stay home from school?"...peck....peck. Then you wonder why they turn to drugs and alcohol, sex, cutting, binging and purging, and isolate themselves in their rooms or on the computer as soon as they're old enough. Why don't they communicate with you any more? YOU PUT THEM IN THIS POSITION. You let this happen! They've learned to deal with it on their own the best they can with a parent who believes that their child should have to deal with things they themselves do not.
And if your young person is on the other side, congratulations. You have either raised a dominant chicken or they've put their trust and efforts somewhere other than in the loving heart of their parent. You may still have a great relationship by the grace of God. I'm happy for you. But she has still seen and learned day after day a lesson not true in the "real world." Fit in or be ridiculed. Walk to the beat of someone else's drum.
I know how much you love your child. I am not saying that anyone is deliberately out to hurt their precious son or daughter. I have perhaps spoken harshly in this post. It's nothing against you, reader. I simply felt the need to speak very candidly. I want children to be placed above our race for the status quo. All I ask is that we remove our rose colored glasses long enough to stare into the possibly harsh light of the truth. And though its glare sometimes blinds, I think our beloved young people will be better off for our efforts to see.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Holy Nation vs. Royal Priesthood
A Holy Nation. A Royal Priesthood. Which one do you choose when it comes to educating your children? I have heard people say that they choose to send their child to public school in order to minister to the lost children. To be salt and light. Listen mom or dad, I don't mean to be rude, but you need to wise up about the pressures your kids face and what is really going on in that school building, in the back of that bus, and in the girl's bathroom. Do you honestly remember anyone in there praying together or was it mostly girls in there talking about guys, and vice versa?
God called the children of Israel an holy nation. And a royal priesthood. A holy nation implies a separation. Holy means separate. You do not walk in the way of sinners, or even put your foot on their path. A royal priesthood would seem to be a contradiction to this. A priest would be going to minister to those who are lost, and therefore would be spending time with the lost. I think there is an order here though. The two concepts work together.
Let me ask you something. We need to be honest here. Are you really and truly sending your child out into the government run schools in order to preach the gospel? Or is that just a holy sounding cop out? If you are just going with the flow of the culture, and don't even want to bother to think deeply about your actions in this area, then don't bother reading further. If you are truly motivated by the love of God for lost children, and it's not a cop out, please consider the following.
You must be a holy nation before you can be a royal priesthood. You must have something to give before giving. The peer saturated, culture driven world of the schools is not a place where your child is going to become filled with the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of wisdom. They will become dependent on the good opinion of their age mates. Even if your child is a strong believer in Jesus, he is still a child and at a very formative time in his life. What he is around eight hours a day is going to influence him more than the time he spends at home or in church.
God has given the responsibility to you. You and no one else will stand before God, parent, and answer for what is done with this child. Did you choose to sacrifice him on the altar of convenience? Did you choose the path of least resistance because none of your friends do it any differently? Or will you choose
to search and pray for God's will? Think of the fruit you want to end up with? A young adult who is not afraid to be different. To share the gospel in a hostile environment. Then help him grow into a holy nation, then send him out as part of the royal priesthood. Do not send him to wander aimlessly through the halls of a corrupt institution and hope for the best. Disciple him, at home, day in and day out. Homeschooled children learn to evangelize right along with their parents in real life. A holy nation that is made up of a royal priesthood.
God called the children of Israel an holy nation. And a royal priesthood. A holy nation implies a separation. Holy means separate. You do not walk in the way of sinners, or even put your foot on their path. A royal priesthood would seem to be a contradiction to this. A priest would be going to minister to those who are lost, and therefore would be spending time with the lost. I think there is an order here though. The two concepts work together.
Let me ask you something. We need to be honest here. Are you really and truly sending your child out into the government run schools in order to preach the gospel? Or is that just a holy sounding cop out? If you are just going with the flow of the culture, and don't even want to bother to think deeply about your actions in this area, then don't bother reading further. If you are truly motivated by the love of God for lost children, and it's not a cop out, please consider the following.
You must be a holy nation before you can be a royal priesthood. You must have something to give before giving. The peer saturated, culture driven world of the schools is not a place where your child is going to become filled with the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of wisdom. They will become dependent on the good opinion of their age mates. Even if your child is a strong believer in Jesus, he is still a child and at a very formative time in his life. What he is around eight hours a day is going to influence him more than the time he spends at home or in church.
God has given the responsibility to you. You and no one else will stand before God, parent, and answer for what is done with this child. Did you choose to sacrifice him on the altar of convenience? Did you choose the path of least resistance because none of your friends do it any differently? Or will you choose
to search and pray for God's will? Think of the fruit you want to end up with? A young adult who is not afraid to be different. To share the gospel in a hostile environment. Then help him grow into a holy nation, then send him out as part of the royal priesthood. Do not send him to wander aimlessly through the halls of a corrupt institution and hope for the best. Disciple him, at home, day in and day out. Homeschooled children learn to evangelize right along with their parents in real life. A holy nation that is made up of a royal priesthood.
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