Indecisive? Me? No Way.

Have you ever watched a shell on the edge of the beach being tumbled about by the waves... advancing toward and then receding from the shore?  The shell progresses forward, rolling over and over, only to suddenly shift directions and lose ground, regressing back into the depths.  With the next wave, the process repeats itself.  If the waves are coming hard enough, the movement appears almost chaotic.  If the poor shell had a will to get itself up onto the sand, it seemed to be losing the battle.


Well, tonight I observed a similar battle in my eldest son.  He was wrought with indecision over whether to stay home and eat dinner at home or whether to come with me to the YMCA, wait until I finished my class, and then take me out to dinner with a gift card he had won in a school contest.  He went back and forth over and over again in a chaotic painful motion.  He was torn between spending time with me, but at the risk of a boring wait and late night, and being in the comfort of his home, but at the risk of eating a dinner that wasn't his favorite.  Poor guy!

Zac comes by this indecision fairly honestly.  Just ask my husband, my sister, my mom, or anyone else who knows me well, and they will tell you that decision making is not my strong suit.  It is not as simple as that, however.  There are varying degrees of decisions that need to be made and, with that, varying degrees of decision making skill.  Some decision making is far easier for me than others.  I will, however, save that discussion for another day...maybe a rainy one.

I'm not sure why it is decision making is so difficult.  However, I have learned something over the years about this thorny process.  I do much better when I realize the following:

1. Most often, I can make a good decision.  The outcome will be fine.  No need to panic.
2. Most often, there are two good choices and either one can lead to a good result in my life.  Unless, of course the choice is between blatantly wrong and obviously good stuff - then, of course, there really is no decision that needs to be made.  The answer would then be clear.
3. Most often, I will feel better once the decision is made and stuck to.
4. Most often, everyone around me will feel better once the decision is made.
5. If I am asking for God's input in the decision and trying to follow Him, He is likely pleased when I finally make a decision.  It means that I trust Him in my life and with the decisions I make in an attempt to honor Him.  He is big enough to help turn my decisions into good outcomes.

Tonight, in the end, Zachary chose to stay home.  Right up until I pulled away, however, he waffled in that indecision.  It was hard, painful really, to watch.  While I was away, Ken reassured him that some indecision is normal, especially at this awkward advancement of puberty.  Ken said he was relieved to hear this.  When I got home, I reassured him that I understood.  And, I told him that I knew where he got this swinging preference pendulum from.  I think he was relieved to hear this as well. 

More decisions need to be made tomorrow...and the day after that.  Hopefully he won't tumble back and forth quite as hard as he did tonight.  Hopefully along the way, he will learn some of the things I have about making those decisions.  And, hopefully, he will advance enough to grab a hold of the shore and rest for awhile with a decision that has been made.

Words That Can Crumble...

Today at lunch, a co-worker of mine asked, "does anyone know of a good alarm system they would recommend?"  She proceeded to tell us that she and her husband were looking into an alarm system because of recent robberies in their neighborhood situated out in the country.  This sparked stories from others about the time their houses were robbed.  These kinds of discussions always end up being kind of  fun, as inevitably one story teller tries to out tell another.  I must admit, I jumped in with the story about the time my sister was house sitting for a neighbor and we eventually found out that a man was "living" there secretly while the neighbors were away.  True story. It was a lively discussion.

Suddenly, however, in the span of one sentence, the conversation left a bitter taste in my mouth and sent my thoughts whirling.  I know the sentence was made with no malicious intent.  In fact, the speaker later tried to explain away her comment, perhaps realizing the sting it may have caused.  The woman, a very nice woman, was talking about a car suspiciously parked on the street in front of the acreage lots out in the country.  It was suspicious because of where it was parked, because of a missing license plate, and because it sat there for some time, "appearing" to be "casing out" their neighbors luxurious acreage home.  But, then came that stinging sentence. "...and there were two black guys sitting in the front seat."

 The sentence was not, "there were two unfamiliar guys in the front seat" or "there were two guys we'd never seen before" or, even, "there were two guys we didn't recognize as being from our neighborhood."  It was, "...and there were two black guys sitting in the front seat." I missed the next several seconds of what she said as that sentence echoed momentarily in my mind and I immediately thought of my son.  Oh, how I hope he is never on the end of a sentence like that, used in that way.  It was not intentionally hurtful, but the sting was still there.

Later on in the conversation, the woman did explain that there are no black families on their street, which is why it seemed out of place.  She even stated something like, "I don't mean to sound prejudice or anything...it just didn't make sense for them to be there."  It was an attempt to put context to the sentence.  But, by that point, the pain was already unintentionally inflicted.

Now, do not get me wrong.  I am not an overly politically correct person.  I don't know what the latest politically correct terms are for the variety of people groups we have in our country and around the world.  As well, I am sure that somewhere along the line I have said or done things that I would now hit myself over the head for.  As well, I am not someone who thinks we should never use someone's ethnic or racial identity to talk about a person or explain who someone is.  In fact, ethnic/racial identity is a major part of who someone is and impacts how their world view is shaped.  Ethnicity and racial identity are good things that should, to some degree, be acknowledged and celebrated in the world.  However, this kind of statement, especially if left hanging with no further clarification, holds within it history of inequality and judgment based on racial biases.

When, therefore, in my mind does it make sense to describe someone by including their racial or ethnic identity?  Okay - this is risky to put out here because I, myself, am not from a minority group.  I am merely the fierce lioness-like mama of someone who is.  Therefore, my opinion comes only from me, a very white middle aged youngish woman.  In my mind there is no reason to discuss this identity unless the identity is specific to their description for the purpose of distinguishing one person from another or for clarifying an appearance for appearance sake.  For example, if I was describing my son to someone because they were going to meet him for the first time in the library without me, I may well say, "he's 8 years old.  He will have on ripped jeans and a dinosaur t-shirt.  He has black curly hair and dark brown / black skin."  In order to help identify my son to someone unfamiliar, it makes perfect sense that I might include that "he's black" or "he's African", especially if they did not know that my son was adopted.  Similarly, I would describe distinctive features of my daughter perhaps as, "she is a bit of a princess warrior.  She will be wearing the pretty pink dress and dirty sneakers.  She has long blond hair and greenish blue eyes."  If I was describing a woman that I saw whose beauty struck me, I may say, "she was thin with dark eyes and long dark hair.  Her skin was a lovely olive tone, very Mediterranean in appearance."  I may also describe someone that I am referring to in a crowd by including their race, if it would help to identify them.  For example, if I was telling someone about my friend Marcus across the room, I may say, "He's the African American man over in the corner wearing the white t-shirt."  If the crowd had many white t-shirt wearing dark haired men in it, it could take me a long time trying to narrow down the list otherwise.  There would be no negative connotation behind that kind of statement.

However, race or ethnicity does not need to be used by itself as part of a description when those features do not set them apart from someone else, especially when there is some negative tone attached.  As my wise sister, Sue, says, "If you wouldn't normally say something like 'the blond person', there is probably no reason to say 'the black/Asian/Mexican person'."  Generally, people wouldn't use the same type of description for someone who was white.  For example, it is highly unlikely that this woman at the lunch table would ever have said, "...and there were a couple of white guys sitting in the front seat" or "....two blond haired men..."  Similarly, if I am discussing students at my school as being rowdy in the hallway, I hope I would not ever say, "there were a bunch of Hispanic kids messing around in the halls."  It should suffice it to say, "there were a bunch of kids messing around in the halls."  Now, if I was trying to identify those students to someone else for some follow up action and didn't know their names, I would likely use multiple physical descriptors to help determine who they were - just as I would if they were white students.  Get the difference?

Words - little combinations of letters on a page or formed in our mouths - are powerful.  They can be powerful in a good encouraging way or in a hurtful awful kind of way.  Words can build someone up or they can tear someone to pieces.  When spoken in love, they can crumble walls.  When spoken in ignorance or hate, they can crumble confidence, spirits, and lives.

I know the intent of this woman was not malicious.  Yet that simple sentence brought out so many protective instincts in this mama bear.  I think I need to gird myself for days to come when someone says something out of ignorance or hate to or about my child that causes me to stumble.  Sadly, it is bound to happen.  It already has happened.  And, I need to be ready to choose my battles and decide when to graciously ignore an unintentional arrow, when to humbly educate, and when to fight with love and passion for what is right.  It's something I will have to think about...and pray about.  I will also have to remember to watch my words in order to use them to crumble walls, not crumble spirits.  Ultimately, I will have to use that Jesus vision that I long for.  That's the only way I will truly see people the way they are meant to be seen.

Ben with his old best buddy and little sister out for his 8th birthday - getting their karate on!

Ben sporting his super strength with his scrawnier  best bud.

She Speaks Conference Scholarship Contest

I think it was about 2 years ago, while we were living in Calgary, Alberta, when I first saw an advertisement for the She Speaks Conference advertised on the Proverbs 31 website.   I was immediately interested and my thoughts began to swirl.  My mind was mostly filled with questions about whether or not I could possibly attend the conference.  Could I afford to go financially or time wise?  Which track would I take?   Would my husband support my desire to go?  Would it be worth it?  I was sure it would be an amazing experience, but wondered if anything could possibly come out of my going anyway. In the end, I took the practical approach and did not register for the conference.

This week, She Speaks Conference is running a scholarship contest.  Once again, my interest is peaked and I have decided to enter the contest.  The conference is part of the Proverbs 31 Ministries, whose mission statement reads, "Proverbs 31 Ministries brings God's peace, perspective, and purpose to today's busy woman".  The ministry is based on principles, not surprisingly, from Proverbs 31 in the Bible.  If you are familiar with Proverbs, you may know this chapter as the "the one about the woman who can encourage and frustrate you all at the same time unless you take a deep breath and remember God's amazing grace."  The Proverbs 31 woman stands as a flawless example of a Godly woman, but who, for many, feels far out of reach.  This is the reason that Proverbs 31 Ministries is so valuable in supporting God's girls to be the best we can be.  The She Speaks Conference is an opportunity for women who have a heart for God and who feel called to share God's heart messages with others through speaking, writing, and women's ministries.  It is an equipping opportunity designed to share tools, insight, wisdom, and practical direction for moving forward in these areas of calling.  According to Lysa TerKeurst, president of Proverbs31 Ministries, "She Speaks is not just another conference … it is a true experience with God and a revival in your calling!"

I have long had an interest in public speaking and, more recently, in writing.  Perhaps the initial spark of desire to be heard was ignited when I was on-stage back in the old days of community theater, school productions, and show choir concerts.  I was more extroverted then than I am today.  Yet over the years, the spark was fanned and I found myself enjoying opportunities to speak out in front of others, primarily women, about all sorts of things.  School presentations.  Campus Life nights.  Speech-Language Pathologist related workshops or conferences.  Intervarsity girls' nights or retreats.  Women's Ministry brunches and dessert nights.  Young adult ministry events.  Baby and bridal shower devotionals.  The opportunity to teach, share, and hopefully encourage others - whether it was in their faith or in the way they learn or communicate with those around them - provided me with a good mix of excitement, passion, and humility.   And, they required a big 'ole dash of reliance on God's Spirit and wisdom to pull me through. 

Recently, and I mean very recently, I started this blog.  It sprung out of the "blogthinking" going on in my mind for a few years now.  The title came from the stark reality that I am not who I once was...nor am I yet all that I am to be, thankfully.  God truly is not finished with me yet.  He's not finished speaking to me or shaping me with regard to most, if not all, areas of my life: as a wife, a mom, an adoptive mom, a mom of a child with special needs, a former (but kinda still) pastor's wife, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a nature lover, a beach walker, an injustice hater, a speech language pathologist, a friend, a neighbor, a cheerleader, a discipliner, a creator, and on and on.  

I am sure He is not finished with me yet, either, in terms of the way that I view the world and others around me.  The older I get, the more I realize that I need to view the world and those in it through Jesus vision.  When I rely on my own filters, I am more critical and judgmental than I ought to be.  I am more likely to find fault and make blame, rather than simply love and accept someone for who they are and where they are in life.  Not to say that I can't encourage or support someone to be more of themselves and more of who they were created to be... but I need to do this because of who they are and who God is, not because of who I am.  I need to love and serve as Jesus does.

I would love to win the scholarship to this conference.  It would be such an encouragement and joy to further explore sharing the messages God has placed on my heart with others - to have the support of others who do this on a regular basis.  I am not entirely sure how God would ultimately shape the experience or what would come out of it.  But, I am confident that it would help me refine how well I share the things God has for me to share with others, whether through conversations over coffee or within the context of a conference.  I don't expect to be a world renowned speaker or top selling author, but there is no telling what God expects and has planned for me.  If, after attending the conference, I could speak more clearly of the famous One and His love for us - to my husband, my kids, my neighbors, my co-works, my family members, the grocer, and so on - it would all be worth it.  I do hope I am picked, but if not, I will be happy for those who are chosen and will trust that God's going to use me no matter what, in His way and in His timing.  Thanks for reading!

My sweet children - they keep me humble, inquisitive, and often in stitches!

The Shoe is on the Other Foot

Ugh.  The shoe is on the other foot and it is not that comfortable...after all, your left foot is not meant to fit in your right shoe, is it?  Neither is it comfortable to fall asleep on the "wrong" side of the bed or sit in the driver's seat of someone else's car.  What is the proverbial shoe, you ask?  It's almost embarrassing, really.  I should be, and I think I am, really happy about it.  But, nonetheless, there is something uncomfortable and unfamiliar of being on this side of the fence.

I got an e-mail just a bit ago, from a woman I have only met briefly, asking me out for coffee.  Weird, huh?  I don't mean "weird...she asked me to join her for coffee."  I mean, "weird...this makes me feel awkward."  This woman is from the church we have been going to for a couple months now.  She seems like a lovely person - cute, bubbly, friendly, a young mom.  Yet, this role of "reaching out to another" is usually - historically - the part I have played in this scenario.  Not that I have always done it as well as I would have liked or as often as I would have liked, but being the P.W. (pastor's wife) for so many years...all my married years...I was accustomed to reaching out...hoping to draw in, to encourage and to support.   And, now, here I am...the new girl...a visitor...not quite "in" yet.  Here I am...the one being reached out to, being drawn in, encouraged, and supported.

For pretty much 16 of our 17 years of marriage, I was automatically "known" within our churches or ministry work Ken was leading.  While there were moments when I wanted to hide briefly from this inherited-by- marriage position, it was a place that I enjoyed and which felt familiar.  In truth, I really loved being a P.W..  I would never have changed it and miss it deeply some days.  It gave me an opportunity to speak into lives naturally.  It made sense that I would reach out and draw in.  I loved (and still love) meeting and encouraging others - it gives me such joy and energy.  Yet now, I am just another new person in the crowd trying to figure out how I want to be known...if I want to be known...in the church we are attending.

Of course, I want to be known.  Who doesn't want to be recognized and known?  Who wouldn't love to be noticed and invited for coffee?  But it feels so strange.  It's like the first time I went to a Women's Ministry event here too...walking in, without responsibility or having played a major part in getting the event organized, felt so odd and foreign.  And, I really only sort of knew one other person in the room.  I wondered, "is this what it is like for someone new?"  And now, I feel grateful and awkward all at the same time over an invitation to coffee.  Wow.  Who knew I might feel this way?  Who knew it would leave me feeling so vulnerable and out of sorts?  Why is that?

I have my suspicions as to why it feels so strange.  I don't think I can articulate all of them...not today.  But, when you are shaped and molded in one direction for so long, a shift in direction is bound to feel funny.  It's bound to stretch and sometimes stretching hurts.  Sometimes it gives you that "it hurts but in a good way" sensation.  I think that is what I am feeling.  At the same time, I feel a sense of "oh no - what if she doesn't like me?"  Funny that I should feel that way.  It's not something I feel very often and I rarely felt it when the shoe was on the other foot.  After all, I was the one inviting or reaching out...I'd made the choice to seek someone out.  But to be sought out...that's a whole 'nuther matter.  There are so many thoughts that I have that I can't write down right now.  I try to be vulnerable as I write, for my sake as well as for anyone who might read.  But I just can't write them all down...I start, then I stop, and start again...deleting, rephrasing.  It just won't come.  No matter.  The words that won't come will be worked out eventually - maybe not here and maybe not even out loud - but they will be worked out.

I hit send and accepted the offer.  The details still need to be worked out.  I have a few days, at least, before the shoe adjustment will take place.  I think I need to go have a chat with God about this one.  He'll help the words come and I'm sure He will stretch me until I say, "yep, that hurts, but in a good way."  He alone can take my awkward insecurity and turn it into gracious acceptance of a lovely gesture.  He alone can give me peace enough to not be worried about whether or not she likes me...after all He is the One that made me.  He alone will work out the knots in my stomach.  And, I am pretty sure, that in the end, He will make sure the shoe fits just the way it is supposed to.

Sweet Treats

My sister's daughter, Jessica, and I at Lake Superior.

Last night, my sister, Sue, and her bubbly daughter, Jessica, came over to babysit so Ken and I could go out for an anniversary date.  While I was tidying up for her arrival and thinking about the food they might munch on, I thought about some of my younger days of babysitting.  In particular, I thought of babysitting for Curt and Debbie.

I loved babysitting for C& D.  One of the main reasons I enjoyed sitting for them was because of the great goodies they always had on hand in their cupboards.  C & D had an amazing supply of treats; all sorts of Little Debbie delights, chips, pop, cookies, candy, and so on.  "Help yourself to anything you want," was often a parting comment.  I always felt like I hit the jackpot because, for the most part, we had little of that kind of food at my house.

Looking back, I am a little embarrassed at how often I took advantage of "helping myself" to the delicious decadence of the empty calorie heaven.  Back then, I'm sure I did not even consider that C & D might come home and laugh at how this sweet, thin, teenager must have turned into a ravenous junk food scavenger once the garage door went down.  Yet for me, there was something really fun and special about that occasional stock up on sweets.  Something comforting, oddly enough.  Definitely, it was something I looked forward to and got excited about.  And, it seemed to hold me over for a while, in terms of needing a sweet treat.

Last night, I thought of how my poor sister and niece would not nearly have as many fun treats to choose from as I did at C & D's.  But then another thought occurred to me...strange how my brain makes these connections.  There have been a few friends...or more specifically, moments with friends....that have felt like those goody raids to me, only with much greater significance.  There have been those moments with a friend when I feel like I needed to take in as much as I could, during the short time that I had, in order to make the effect last.  Or, when I have met someone who seems to have such an amazing depth, wisdom, and spirit to them that I hate to have to leave this new found "friend".  I've especially felt that way when I've met others who have a unique passion and fire in their bellies - for God, for the lost, for orphans, for the hungry, for the world.  Sometimes, it is a moment when the depth of conversation or time together is so rich that it courses through my veins, able to sustain me for a time.  It is so much more than the day to day touch and go relationships that we have with so many throughout the day.

I hope everyone has had the chance to have these kinds of moments with a friend or a loved one.  They may be few and far between, but like the goodies at C&D's, they can stay in your mind for a long time, cropping up in your memories when you least expect it.  They can "refresh" you when your day to day interactions may not be quite as sweet.  They can hold you over for a time and give you encouragement for days to come.  They are the moments that take a relationship just a little bit deeper.  You can't really force them, they just seem to be. But, when they happen, they are surely sweet!

Ouch!

Ever have one of those moments with your kids that makes you laugh, but also makes you cringe or ache just a little inside?  On one hand, the comment or thing they did was really quite cute and innocent.  On the other hand, you wonder if there isn't a nugget of truth sneaking out.  Perhaps there is more to the comment than meets the eye.  You know, like, when my angel of a girl, Eliana, patted my tummy and said, "you look fat, Mommy."  There was no maliciousness meant in it.  It was kind of cute and funny, but there was a silent sting that came with it.  Ken quickly reassured me that in no way, shape or form did I look fat, but the unintentional punch had already landed.  Or, for example, like the time my wise eldest son Zac said, "Miss Deanne makes way better brownies than you."  Huh.  Does she now?  Well, this morning I had one of those moments with my love of a son, Benjamin.

I had not yet rolled out of bed when Ben came snuggling in beside me.  I LOVE it when Ben cuddles in next to me like that.  It is one of the few times when he remains still, quiet, and close...simply wanting to connect physically and emotionally to his momma.  Thinking I would give him the best start ever to his day, I quietly announced, "Guess what, Benjamin?...Today, I am taking you in early to school for 'Goodies with a Great Gal.'"  "Oh.  You are?" replied Ben with a hint of excitement, but questioning in his voice.  "Yes, I sure am," I say confidently.  "Do you want to?" he asked.  "Oh, yes, very much so," I smiled.  "I didn't know we had that today," said Ben.  "Yep, we do.  It will be fun.  Donuts, games, movies..."  "Well, okay then.  Nice!"

A minute or two passed while we quietly lay there a little longer.  Then it came.  "You know, Mom, I think I'd rather take the bus today."  Not sure he understood me...or that I understood him, I said, "oh... But if you take the bus, then I won't be there with you for treats."  "I know," he said, "I just really want to ride the bus this morning.... I don't like Kid's Company and I just want to ride the bus."  "But you don't have Kid's Company...you will have donuts and Mom and games and movies...." (I should explain here that Kid's Company is the before school care that Ben attends three days a week.  He does not really mind it, but on those three days, he does not take the bus.  And, Ben LOVES riding the bus.)  "I know," he restated, "but if I go, I won't get to ride the bus and I have Kid's Company tomorrow."  "Oh...okay...well, if you really don't want to go have donuts with me, you don't have to.  But you need to make sure Dad can stay long enough to get you on the bus....if he can then, then you can stay and go on the bus..." 

Ben lingered a little longer next to me, despite my gentle encouragement to go find out if our change of plans would work for everyone involved.  My hunch is, in his silence and waiting, he was conflicted and torn...I want to be with Mom, but boy do I ever want to be on that bus, with my friends, with my increasing independence....  Finally, in the end, the bus won out and off he went to clear the plan with Ken.  I followed a minute behind him as I could hear the confusion in Ken's voice.  I explained the situation to Ken, smiling and thinking it was funny that a bus ride, which is taken 7 times a week, could possibly trump a donut.  That just wouldn't happen in my world. 

And yet, while I think that "bus over donuts and games" is very cute and kind of funny, a little piece of me is sad.  How is it that a bus ride can also trump time with me?  Thankfully, I am not so full of myself that I linger here long.  I realize that the Goodies with Great Gals isn't about or for me.  Nor, in fact, is the decision to ride the bus.  Rather, it is about Ben desire for increased independence, familiarity and routine, fun with his bus buddies, and a little bit of control.  There was nothing personal or intentionally hurtful in his choice.  I know this.  I should be prepared for this.  And, yet, there is a momentary bite.  Just momentary...at least this time.  I must admit, the "you look fat, Mommy" took a little more time to get over.  :)

I am sure that, in time, there will be more moments of these double edged comments from my kids or others in my life.  Hopefully, as I grow older and more confident in who I am and who God made me, the sharp side will seem duller and the funny side will seem more silly.  Hopefully, I will take myself less seriously and just have a bit more fun along the way.  I know that if I did, we would all be a little bit happier in the end.

Leftovers

Leftovers are NOT a hit in my house.  Sometimes, I intentionality make leftovers so that I don't have to make a meal the next night or so that Ken and I have lunches ready for the next day.  Sometimes, however, leftovers just happen.  Someone didn't eat quite as much as I expected and there they are...the leftovers.  I am always optimistic when the leftovers first show up, thinking that I've saved some future food work.  But, more often than I like, I am disappointed when the leftovers are still in the fridge a few days longer than they should be.  The truth is, in my house, there are few foods that really seem as good the second time around and no one in my house really likes eating the same thing twice in a row.  Leftovers never really seem that appealing. But, hit or no hit, sometimes we just have to have the leftovers.

A friend of mine, Heather Dawson, recently posted something interesting about leftovers on her Facebook status.  It read: I served guests our fridge leftovers tonight. On purpose- to remind us to not give our leftovers to God. It was amazingly uncomfortable for everybody, so why is it so easy to do with the king of the universe.

What a wild experiment!  Brilliant really.  Here is what she said later in the comment stream that followed.

Nobody knew what I was up to, except our 2 oldest kids, who were writing down the comments being said. "why is this still frozen?" "weird dinner" "why are we eating this?" "are you serious? What else do we have?" "what are the grown-ups supposed to eat?" "wow- you're really going all out huh?" (sarcasm) "can I have something else?" After revealing what I'd done, even more truth came out: "it was awkward" "I was embarrassed for you" "i thought you'd just had a bad day" "I couldn't believe you would serve such a weak/weird meal to guests". "i wanted to order something to bail you out and not make you look bad" It was a very convicting reminder of how we often treat dinner guests better than we do a perfect, holy, sovereign God who gave His life to rescue us. Don't let Him be an afterthought...put time into Him. Give Him the first 10% of your gross income. Make sure things that you do will actually matter in 100 yrs. Don't just offer up a quick prayer at the end of the day and call it good! Don't give God leftovers...

I love that Heather did this.  She is a gutsy and Godly woman.  Her conclusion was convicting and challenging.  


God deserves only the best that I have to offer.  Sadly, I usually fail to give Him my best.  Yet, oddly enough, I could be satisfied with only His leftovers or His crumbs.  Sometimes, I live in a way that only grabs at the crumbs, rather than taking a hold of His full meal.  And, amazingly, in spite of myself, God still gives me His best.  The woman in Matthew 15:21-28 understood the fact that Jesus's leftovers were more than enough for her.  And, yet, He gave her His very best.

Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.”Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.”
He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”
The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said.
He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
“Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table. 

Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment.

God truly does gives us His best, if only we will look for it and take it.  I hope that I, in return, will give Him my best.  After all, I'm sure that leftovers are not His favorite dish either.

I have many more thoughts about this topic of leftovers and God, but I need to sleep.  If I don't get enough sleep tonight, I will be giving everyone all sorts of leftovers tomorrow.  So....goodnight!