to know love: April 2008

Charlie used to have a little piece of paper taped to his dashboard. "Comparison is the thief of all joy." I think it is a Bill Goans quote. How true is that? Unfortunately, no matter how true I know it is, I still allow that little thief to get in. To my head. To my heart. And just steal away! What a weasel he is! I've always been susceptible to this subtle larceny. "I wish I was as thin as she is." "I wish I could dance like her." "I wish I could be as outgoing as she is." "I wish I was as spiritual as they are." "I wish my house were as beautiful as hers." "I wish I had her discipline." "And her haircut." "Ooh, and her shoes." Seriously!? I even compare my...uh, blogginess to others...wish I could be as consistent as Millie in documenting Maddie's days or as eloquent and witty as Emily or as creative as The Nester or as inspiring and impactful as Nate (I could go on an on--you can visit all my blogging friends from the links on the right). And now, I have a whole new party that the little thief shows up at...uninvited of course...motherhood! Really, I haven't been as bad as I thought I might. I think God's (and others') gentle reminders that every baby and every parent is so different has been helpful. The area where I struggle the most (and it's a lot) is being a working mom when the majority of my friends stay at home. Whew--yep, that's a hard one.

Anyway, now that you know my dark little comparison secret, I feel comfortable enough with you to share some more secrets. Forever ago, I was "tagged" by a friend and my sister. For all you blogosphere newcomers, apparently that means that I have to tell the world (or at least the 8 people that read this on a regular basis) 7 strange things about me. I definitely came up with more than 7, but I will spare you the list of 17. So, I know you've been waiting for it...in no particular order...drumroll please...

1. I like to mash up my food. Actually, only 2 foods. One is Life cereal. It simply must be mashed for me to eat it...well, at least for me to enjoy it. The other is peanut butter and banana. I like it piled high between two pieces of white bread and of course some of it "on the side" as I used to remind my mom when I was little. It's gross, I know, but it sure is tasty! On another food note, I love the combo of chocolate cake and orange juice--mmm-mmm!

2. My top front teeth are kind of fake. My friend Whitney and I share this as a common bond. I think hers are all the way fake, though. Several years ago, I got veneers over my 6 front teeth--think of them as slipcovers for your pearly whites if you will. It was partly due to my bite being affected because they were too short and partly because I wanted them whitened. The end result was quite nice, but it was a pretty traumatic experience. (Note #1: When the dentist tells you not to look in the mirror when you go to the restroom in the middle of a procedure, DON'T DO IT! Note#2: When the dentist tries to give you a temporary dental fixture and tells you that they will hold up fine until the permanent ones are completed, DON'T BELIEVE HIM! This is a lie! Your fake, temporary teeth with crack and crumble in public and you will have to hold them in with denture cream!) I also learned through the whole ordeal, that I have a "gummy smile", as was used to describe my mouth situation by two different dentists. Go ahead, you have my permission to look at my gummy smile the next time you see me.

3. Not only did I have short teeth, but I also have short legs. They are disproportionate to my body which is why it makes finding pants a chore! They've been a barrier not only in fitting rooms, but also in many a dance class. That is why I considered it a most high compliment when one of my teachers in college yelled above the music, "Travel! Use that floor space! Look at Kelly with her short legs go--good girl!" I am afraid Maddie has inherited this gene too. Although I must say the short-leg look is good for her. Just look at her--she sure is cute!

4. I am a bit...how should I say...challenged when it comes to riding a bike (my friend Blair can empathize, as she notes on her blog). I kept my lack of bike-riding skills hidden for a long, long time. Many years of my life I just "preferred to walk" when I received the invitation to bike. I avoided it and my cover was not blown...until we took a group of high school kids for a week-long adventure camp in California. Of all the adventures one could choose to make a part of that week, someone had to choose mountain biking. I've got a word for it and adventure ain't it. Anyway, it's not that I completely did not know how to ride a bike...I learned when I was a kid...sort of. I don't know if I had a bad fall or what, but one day I just decided it was not for me and didn't ride again after that...until my training. Yep, we spent many a late night practicing in empty parking lots before our trip. God bless my husband...my trainer...may you have the same patience teaching Madison as you had with me. Because I will not be subjecting myself to that two-wheel torture again.

5. Remember Language Arts? I was a fan. Not so much of the literature part (although I do love to read), but more of the grammar, spelling, sentence structure, penmanship part. For some reason, just as numbers just make sense to some people, prepositions, periods, and palindromes have always been my forte. I used to love dissecting sentences and bad grammar is a pet peeve of mine (now I am beginning to worry that this sentence is not grammatically correct!).

6. I like to peel things. If paint has dried in the paint tray, I'll be peeling it out the next day. If glue has dribbled down the side of the bottle, I'm on it. And the happiest peeling opportunity--the aftereffect of a bad sunburn. Again, God bless my husband. He has fallen victim to my peeling obsession more than a few times.

7. I am a pseudo-organized person. That is, I would love to say that I am an organized person (as I believe it is most certainly a virtue), but if I did I'd probably kind of lying. The truth is that I long for a life of order and organization. I don't think there's anything wrong with my expectations, but I find myself falling into the "if only" trap too often. "If only I could just get _____ organized, I'd be able to ____________." So, while everything in my house has a place and I am good with a calendar (most of the time), I am far from the organized woman I would like to be. However, those little things that I do manage to get under control--now they are a big deal. I'm talking about cd's-arranged-in-alphabetical-order-by-artist-and-release-date big. Very important--no crucial--to the daily functions of a household. I'm talking clothes-hanging-in-the-closet-according-to-type-of-clothing-then-by-sleeve/pant/skirt-length crucial. I have more of these obsessions, but, alas, I must leave part of me a mystery!

Well, if you have stuck with me to the end of this long post, you are truly my friend. And you deserve a gold star. Or a cookie. Or maybe some chocolate cake and orange juice.

And if you are thinking about playing some cruel joke on me next time you come over by messing with my cd's, don't even try it.

"I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the LORD. For his whole life he will be given over to the LORD."

~1 Samuel 1:27-28

I've always had a hard time with the story of Abraham and Isaac. And now that I have a child, understanding it has become even harder. God asks a dad to journey with his only little boy up to a mountain top where he is commanded to take his life. Why would our loving God ask such a horrible act from his servant Abraham? The crazy thing is that Abraham was obedient! He did it! (can you sense my self-doubt that I would follow through in the same way?) Well, he didn't really do it...he didn't end up having to...but he was prepared to do it.

So, as we dedicated Madison to the Lord last Sunday, I've thought about this near-tragic event that occured so many years ago. I can imagine an old man whose youth has been rejuvenated by the energy, curiousity, and playfulness of his young son. Their journey may have begun with conversation and maybe some laughter, but I bet with every mile, Abraham's heart becomes heavier. I imagine that, as they neared the place where the sacrifice would be made, Abraham is overcome with weariness--not so much from traveling, but from his torment within. I can imagine his face, the dirt from a three-day journey streaked by tears that flow silently and forcefully when his son asks him,

" Father...the wood and the fire are here...but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?"

(Gen. 22:7)

Just as God spoke to Abraham that day...as he taught him...as he protected him...God uses this story to speak to and to teach me. I can make sense of this incomprehendible request by knowing that God wants me to know He is sovereign. That He not only sees, but orchestrates the bigger picture. That His requests of us might seem crazy. Irrational. Non-conforming to the world. Like asking us to move to another country where we will be separated from family, friends, and all that is familiar, in order to share Christ with "the nations," as my sister is doing. Or asking us to trust Him admist what might the greatest tragedy imaginable, losing a child, as dear friends of mine experienced recently. Somehow I think Abraham had glimpse of God's big picture. He told this to the guys that were traveling with him,

"We will worship and then we will come back to you."

(Genesis 22:5b, emphasis mine)

Even though he was prepared to do what God had told him to do, I think he believed God would extend His protection and His mercy and that, in some way, God would allow him to return with his son. I am challenged by Abraham to be faithful. obedient. trusting. So, as we dedicate Madison to the Lord, may we do it daily. With faithfulness, obedience, and trust.