hearingnseeing
Hearing and seeing God in everyday lifeArchive for children
Witness of Omission
If you read last time, you know I am teaching in the preschool Sunday school class. Last week we learned about David and Goliath — inspired by finding a parachute in the teacher prep room. The kids have wanted to play with the parachute since we found it but I just couldn’t find a way to work it in until last week. We put foam balls in the middle and if you got hit you were “goliathed.” We played the various elementary games too with such a fun tool! It turns out the foam balls I had bought on a Christmas sale were Rudolph noses (or clown noses) — and if you can imagine, Sunday school class was a little, er, active. This morning, 5 days later, is the first day I am walking normally again — my poor underworked muscles!!! No parachute this Sunday.
I am learning from these little ones, though, particularly in our games and crafts together. Some children have to have all the rules spelled out before participating and even then have to contemplate their every move — like the little guy who took about a full minute to pick his Red Rover to come over — and the same with Duck Duck Goose, going around and around and around. Some want to copy the craft exactly and wouldn’t think to “color outside the lines.” And then, of course, there are others who think everything is okay until specifically ruled out — which often makes for progressive rule making and changing . . . it is a challenge to stay a step ahead of them all!
I gamed and crafted with my own children but don’t remember so much “re-directing” that needed to take place. This was not, I believe, because of some behavior of my kids, but because along the way they figured out how to behave in this family. And Sunday school class is bringing together 8-12 different family’s ways every Sunday and trying to make them coexist in relatively one way. No big revelation here, just what is.
Last night I talked with a friend about her Christian witness at her place of work — or her perceived lack thereof. She said her coworkers knew her as a “Jesus Girl” and that she attends church, but beyond that, her witness was not happening because of the nature of her employment. Surely many of us are not able to speak of Jesus in much of our day. She called it her “witness of omission,” particularly omitting snappy words and tempers! but not talking about God things either.
Maybe there is more to this “witness of omission” thing, though — like a witness of no intention, for good or for ill. It is that which we just do and live, not unlike these children in my class, having acquired such living along the way. It is perhaps the essence of who we are and the outflow of our hearts and habits — and our responses to those doing the very same thing. We witness like this all the time, with or without words.
Monitoring our intentions and omissions, our behavior and witness is probably no easier than managing a room full of 4- and 5-year-olds . . . but maybe no harder either, just, again, progressive.
Well, I just liked that, the “witness of omission,” hadn’t heard it said quite like that before, and wanted to put that thought out there today for someone else to say, Hmmm. Made me take a look at my own heart and habits . . . and think about how God wants me to live . . .
Easier to Plan than Thank
It is my pleasure to be teaching the preschool Sunday School class these days. I remember back from my substitute teaching days half the high school class that walked out on me after discussing that being in school after age 16 was a choice and not an obligation. Rookie move. I remember the fourth graders trying to trick me by speaking Spanish, which I knew too much of. One time I had kindergartners and all they wanted to do was wipe their noses then hold my hand (shudder). But over the summer I was asked to help in the VBS with preschoolers. At one point, I had 17 little ones all listening to a story quietly. While I strongly forgo saying I have a “gift,” I will say at least I had their attention!
This Sunday I am bringing in a pumpkin and we are dissecting it and then gluing together paper pumpkins with “filling” (yarn and pumpkin seeds) as a Thanksgiving lesson. I like the International Children’s Bible’s take on the end of Psalm 63, which will be the Scripture to guide our lesson:
You take care of the land and water it.
You make it very fertile.
The rivers of God are full of water.
Grain grows because you make it grow.
10 You cause rain to fall on the plowed fields.
You soak them with water.
You soften the ground with rain.
And then you bless it.
11 You give the year a good harvest.
You load the wagons with many crops.
12 The desert is covered with grass.
The hills are covered with happiness.
13 The pastures are full of sheep.
The valleys are covered with grain.
Everything shouts and sings for joy.
Yesterday I did not sing and shout for joy. Actually, I think I know why so many Psalms have the dichotomy of moods all wrapped up on one psalm. It is like movie Inside Out — where the more mature emotions are complex, filled with joy, sadness, anger, anxiety, whatever – all in one memory or moment. I thought to myself, No wonder people chose to be busy this time of year — it keeps the haunts at bay. Quiet moments often unsettle the dust and bring tears to the eyes. And so it was for me yesterday. I found it easier to plan for Thanksgiving than be thankful for it.
Then I sat at my desk with Bible, pencil and journal, a favorite place and time in my house, and the sun shone on me at that moment. Quint, right? But true. These past days have been a bit more winter than fall and full of clouds and wind — except that moment yesterday morning when the sun broke through and joined me, gently dispelling the shadows in my soul. Yep, I was heart and mind thankful then, and softened, and blessed (verse 10).
Lord, May you bless the land, provide rain and make things grow; May my heart be likewise fertile soil; and May I thank and serve You always as Lord of the Harvest.
Happy Thanksgiving, people, the National Day of Thanks to God!
Sand and Seashells
Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I have only posted 4 times this whole year in a blog nearly 5 years old. I have heard and seen God many more times than that, right? And honestly, every now and then something would happen and I would think, Oh, yeah, that would be something fun to write about it! But I didn’t, and I haven’t. This blog has always been just an extension of my heart, and truly I have battled much this year with the hardening of it. I had panic attacks this year landing me in the ER and long-lasting anxiety following. A son graduated and went to the Service. A friend died unexpectedly and grief and mourning overwhelmed me once again, this on top of the other regular haunts.
But it is fall now and my favorite time of year. The colors have peacefully changed, no early harsh freeze, no strong wind rushing leaves away. And I saw a guy with a metal detector yesterday. While that may seem like a “Squirrel!” sort of comment in this post (if you’ve seen that movie), it was truly just an, Ah, Lord, there you are at it again! and I was compelled to pick up the pen, er, keyboard, once again after a 4-month hiatus.
A friend gave me a book called Devotions for the Beach by Miriam Drennan after I returned from a visit to San Diego. Within a few hours of our landing at the airport there, we had gone to the beach. Oh how I will never forget my girl rushing to waves before I had even donned on my suit shouting, “Save the shells!! We have to save the shells from those mean waves! Save the shells!” Truly, we found more sand dollars than shells, but it was her determination to any hostage upturned by the outgoing tide. I have since said that if I come up missing some day to look for me there. Who knew the Pacific was so cold and salty??! says the naïve in-lander…
Yet the waves of this year have pulled me under often and I have struggled. Again I will say, Thank you, Lord, for Your faithfulness! I read a devotion out of that book yesterday about beachcombers with their metal detectors seeking treasure in the sand, whether old coin or broken toy. The author’s point is not missed on me; “Seeking God and His truths can be a balm to a scorched soul, bring peace to a troubled heart, and offer joy to a frazzled spirit.” (pg 13).
I read that in the morning and went to work. Later, on the way to pick my girl from school activities, guess what I see in the middle of the pee-wee football field, days after cleats and dogs hundreds of people — it is a man with a metal detector.
And that is just like God.
I just had to write about that. Isaiah says to seek God while he may be found — I am so thankful for God’s I Am Here! yesterday. Thank You, Lord!
Isaiah 55 — that will be my afternoon sit-in-the-fall-sun reading today and I will think of sand and seashells. How about you?
Into Dark Waters
We have a new old favorite place. It is a short walk away and is open again to passers-by. A few years back, one of the land owners had roped it off and chased us off with colorful threats, showering us with gravel as she peeled out in her old beat-up truck. So we stayed away. Since her departure, the ropes have come down and we again have enjoyed nearly daily visits to The Pond. A fellow local has brought her 11 full-grown ducks to live in this new habitat — as opposed to a kiddie pool in her yard within the city limits. I am still chuckling over the vision of her bringing these ducks to the pond in her car . . . I can only imagine! We bought pellets for the koi and catfish and the ominous ghost-like schools of minnows. Yesterday we saw the toads and their long lines of eggs. I even took my camera, pencil and paper down there the other night and just took in the beauty!
Now the boys have rediscovered the pond as well. I had taken a gaggle of girls down there with me yesterday to check it out, maybe wade a bit, see the ducks, feed the fish. You should probably know that it is a man-made pond fully lined with concrete (and presumable lots of slimy moss underneath) — actually, I don’t know if it is cement to the bottom or not — and there is a pump and a well. It is not drained over the winter but the level of water significantly decreases. I may have mentioned this pond before — and the original 3 ducks I visited there all winter long on my walkabouts. It is pretty small, easy to swim across in all directions of its oval.
But back to the boys — the girls were doing their girl thing — toes in the water, daring each other to touch the toads, trying to get the ducks to come near — when we heard the boys long we saw them. I kind of enjoy watching 13- and 14-year-old boys — clinging to their boyhood while looking curiously at manhood — unabashed in their loudness and antics in front of any aged girl! They came over the hill, doffed cloths in full stride, and headed straight for the raft. They pushed it off and headed to the deep water, dove, flipped and fell in – all within minutes of our first hearing them. The girls and ducks matched their noise level and made this adults just a little jealous of their freedom of flight! Yes, I did yearn to get in!!!
But the water is dark! The fish nibble at your toes. The walls are a one-slip-of-the-foot-and-you-are-fully-in type. So I just sat sunning and not supervising at all — until the girls wanted a boat ride. Then they wanted to jump in just like the boys. It was a quick No for all the girls not in my family. But for my daughter, I hesitated. The boys had been in and out of the raft many times by now. It was at least 13 feet deep where they were at — but still, the idea of jumping into dark waters causes my heart to skip a beat — what if ___ and there are many words to fill in that blank.
Her brother’s voice echoed in my head at the moment — “C’mon, Mom, let her go!” It was the voice of the brother that always thought she was too coddled and got away with everything. Whether his voice was, Let’s see if she has any guts! or, This will be good for a laugh! — I am not sure. But I heard his voice as clear as day in his absence.
She can swim well. I felt it was safe enough. I was close by to help if needed. I could tell she wanted to, but was also afraid to; and growing up with only brothers, she was determined to do what the other, but older, boys were doing. I finally consented and said Feet First Only! — and so both happened. She did show plenty of guts, but her little head bobbed up quicker than quick and she skittered back to the boat before the fish could find her tasty; and then the laugh ensued, just like her brother thought it would (yes, I laughed too!). She couldn’t get back into the boat very easily, and all in all, once was enough for her that day. She gave me a play-by-play of it all the way home, pleased with herself she was!
I think I will come back to this moment with her again in her life as she ponders another jump into dark waters, that place where you are pretty sure is safe to go but whose wait on courage is causing the pause.
I write this to you today not as some spiritual lesson, not a Go be courageous! bit. This is just something ordinary that happened, maybe even hardly worth writing about. In my Bible reading today, though, I was reminded that if God has given you some sort of blessing, it is for His glory and purpose — not our pleasure alone — for His gifts are to be shared. Yesterday was a great blessing; Thank You, Lord!! I write today that you might be aware of your own blessing, that God may swell in your heart as well, that you may be a conduit of God’s goodness to others. I will try to do the same.
Psalm 67: May the Lord be merciful and bless us. May He smile with favor on us. May Your ways be known through the earth, Your saving power among people everywhere. May the nations praise you, O God. Yes, may all the nations praise you. Let the whole world sing for joy because You govern the nations with justice and guide the people of the whole world. May the nations praise You, O God, Yes, may all the nations praise You. Then the earth will yield its harvests and God, our God, will richly bless us. Yes, God will bless us, and people all over the world will fear Him.
The Best Valentine Ever
I read a love story last night. It was quite different from the smut novels I read in college or even the “Christian” romance of my high school years (interspersed between reads of Frank Peretti and Stephen King). Last night’s story left me hopeful and encouraged! The servant so faithful and God-fearing, the maiden seemingly raised for the moment, willing to follow God right into a man’s arms. It was a story of praise and thanks and left me praising and thanking as well — just as a good story should! — and is layered with meaning for the one lingers. Of course after reading it to my young daughter, hoping she will be like the maiden some day, well, she just thought the nose ring was cool. I suppose give it some time, eh?
It’s in there for you to read too — Genesis 24. God’s Word, the best Valentine ever.
‘Tis the Season
The all school Christmas program — remember? Girls in frilly dresses and boys in ties (some of them), cranky parents and crying babies. You see it all at that program too — the parents filming every fa-la-la to the ones who are covering up their dinner drinks while talking too loudly throughout the whole thing. In the end, it’s just for the kids, right? But out of the mouths of babes…
This year’s program was something about a pirate’s Christmas, the pirates meeting “white beard” (as opposed to blue beard, black beard, yellow beard, etc.). They come in contact with the elves and learn that giving is what you do at Christmastime. In the end, the pirates want to give the elves something back for the gifts from Santa, so some of them take off their eye patches and present them to the elves. At that point, after giving away his eye patch, one pirate says something like, “Wow, I can see two times as good now!” and the audience laughs. Kudos to the writer of this unknown program, whoever you are!
The message of the pirate holds for this for me: While I, too, can see clearly out of two eyes, this time of year my vision is clouded by the hustle and bustle, the buying and baking, going and worrying and, particularly for me, criticizing myself and others. It is hard to be jolly while ’tis the season. But if I can just take that dark patch off, with the Lord’s grace, wow, I know I can see twice the better.
Yep, easier said then done. Always is. But worth it, I think. Argh!
James 1:22 (NIV) Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.
Where Thanks is Absent
Did you watch Little House on the Prairie? Did you read the books? Do you remember in The Long Winter how the girls had to stay under the covers all day just to stay warm (alive) in that harsh winter? I was very thankful for my goose down and chenille this morning — and equally thankful for the thermostat in my control.
As tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I easily go down the litany of things I am thankful for – health, home, family, friends, work — all the big ones. I have read the books, (tried to) keep the thanks journal, heard the sermons. I understand that lack of gratitude is in cahoots with entitlement. I also have a pretty good grasp on how little, it any I “deserve,” from blessing to salvation. So I should be thankful. Scripture in I Thessalonians tells me to give thanks in all circumstances. I get it. But I am not.
I cannot keep secrets from God; He knows. How many times have I said those words over the years? How much comfort they have given me when I could find no other words! But truth is, He knows also those areas where thanks is absent, surrounded in the assumption that I should have had it differently. I have sat, and a little uncomfortably, on this truth since I realized Thanksgiving was nearly here; but it was the first thing I said to myself, that which I was not thankful for, long before that which I was.
Again and again, though, since God is the faithful one, He shows me this and a way to stay malleable. I am, have been, like the inconsolable child. I did not get my way. But I have not seen a child remain that way indefinitely under the love of a parent. Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3-4 NIV) Kids learn to trust their loving parents and rest in that, not needing to understand. They have a humble childlike faith — and to those Jesus commends.
“It can’t beat us!” Pa said.
“Can’t it, Pa?” Laura asked stupidly.
“No,” said Pa. “It’s got to quit sometime and we don’t. It can’t lick us. We won’t give up.”
Then Laura felt a warmth inside her. It was very small but it was strong. It was steady, like a tiny light in the dark, and it burned very low but no winds could make it flicker because it would not give up.”
― Laura Ingalls Wilder, The Long Winter
Thank you, Jesus, for your light in the dark parts of my soul, where you take a simple faith and grow it into full trust in You. Amen!
52 Weeks
Tomorrow is the actual anniversary day, the 10th. The date never made a difference to me except on June 10th, a Wednesday, a full gestational age. Wednesdays have been the marker for passage of a time that has not moved at all. Today is 52 weeks. That many ago I shouted, “Donuts!” to wake the 13-year-old. It was our stop before the doctor for his toe. I brought him home, went to a hair appointment and returned not 60 minutes later, looking for my son who will never return to me. Again, why could the Lord have not given me a flat tire that day? Suicide kills so many things.
There is no object lesson here or hearing some quaint quip or seeing something worth describing. Not this post. But writing has always helped me feel better. And so I think of my family and friends who have been with me this frozen time. I think of the Lord who allows, who gives and takes away. I think of His Peace and Comfort, even if I am that child who is hurting, refusing the band-aid because it might hurt when removed. I think of the trip with my family today to a quiet place and worry over the quiet moments. I think of Jesus who wept tears of blood waiting for the time to begin before his last hours. I weep thinking of these next few days, the last of my firsts without my son for me and my other children, knowing a little of the courage to endure. Already the phone calls and texts from loving family and friends break me down every time. Yet, again, writing has always helped and so I share with you. If any encouragement is to be had, know that I have survived, and small as it is, a hope to thrive remains, and maybe, just maybe, on this side of Heaven as well.
Isaiah 61.
Blessing of Laughter
I learned something last night not from a screen. Old school, I know. I was lying in bed next to my daughter — it was later for her than usual and she had hit that point of too tired to fall asleep right away. Our black cat came to visit us, which is rather rare for this non-lap cat, but he did let me pet his face for a while. When the cat had had enough, he just ambled away over the lump of my near-asleep girl’s belly. There was not the usual, Ugh, get off! or the push to move him away faster — and how is it that cats have no manners at all?? What happened, though, was this noise hard to write about. My daughter just like expels this air forced out by a 10-pound cat, kind of like a, P-uhhh. Man, did that strike my funny bone. And in absolute seriousness, half-conscious, she says, That is not funny. Which, of course, made it more funny, to which she replies, Just go to sleep! Poor girl — and I wonder, will she even remember this morning?
So I laid there shaking the bed, trying not to make noise, but really laughing. What a silly thing to strike me, right? But as I lay there wiping a tear on my pillow case, it occurred to me that the same muscle and mechanism used in that kind of belly laugh is the same for the gut-wrenching, body-wracking sob. This, for me, is true. I just hadn’t thought of it like that before.
What a capacity we humans hold for great and deep feelings, good and bad!
Elijah of the Bible hit a low point, ” I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, broken down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.” The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and scattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave . . . and then the Lord spoke with Elijah giving guidance and comfort as the story continues. You’ll have to read it yourself in I Kings 17-19)
The same God who creates the powerful wind also has an unbound capacity to speak in a gentle whisper. Don’t you love this? May God grant you the blessing of laughter today! But if it is your time for those far darker moments, may the Lord bless you with his powerful and gentle presence, whispering, comforting, guiding.
Mystery Meat
It started off with a birthday party invite in another language with English subtitles. And when I dropped my girl off yesterday and the party had not started,the birthday girl wasn’t even there yet, I figured I had better stay and wait for a while. Someone asked me Drink? to which I replied No, thank you, and was brought a glass of iced white drink. I just watched. There was a baby there and every male that came through the door had to go coo, cluck, kiss or pick her up in hello. That made me smile. I found the teenage girl spoke English, a relief to me, but I still felt pretty out of place.
After about a half an hour, the party girl and some other guests arrived and I felt I could go. I figured the mother this whole time was cooking in the kitchen and asked the teenager to make and introduction, but because I am nosy and the smells in there were amazing, I stuck around for just few moments.
There was a woman at the stove about my age using a spoon and a colander to allow chili drippings in while leaving the seeds out to this enormous pot that took up two burners. She kept tap, tap, tapping on it for a few drips out at a time. This was going into a mixture containing small cubes of meat and covered with this red chili sauce. At this point, the Grandma comes over and shoos the other lady out of the way and just gets her hands right in there to squish the chili sauce with much faster results. It smelled wonderful. I asked, and maybe understood?, if I could look under the lid of the other giant pot. Someone said “beans.” At my house yesterday morning I had put navy beans and chunks of ham in a crock pot with a bit of carrot and onion – kind of boring next to what was then handed to me in a cup — beans and bacon and a ton of cilantro and a big green chili thing and carrots and I am sure what else. It was so yummy. So I paid my compliments, made my apologies for not being able to communicate, took my beans and white rice drink, and left my girl with instructions for her to call me back when ready to go.
Over 3-1/2 hours later, she still hadn’t called. I decided I had better go and check on things and the party was still quite going on with lots more kids and people. One of the Aunts befriended me and interpreted and filled me in on the going’s on. Of course she asked if I wanted something to eat and our conversation was largely about food since she loved to cook. She took me back to the big pot of red sauce and meat and gave me a tortilla to use — but could not tell me what the meat was (likely pork or beef — I think). This is not my usual – I could never be a Survivor – and while not really picky, certainly I am not brave to try new things regularly and avoid mystery foods. But I tried this stuff and had to ask for a second helping. Then she had me try the chicken salad and the pineapple cake and more drink. She was a great hostess and I was SO glad she was there to help me navigate 2 miles away from my house. I decided if ever I was invited back, I would ask to look under the pot lid again.
Hearing and Seeing is intended to be about hearing and seeing God in everyday life. Most often it is a nature thing or something happening within my world, my family, my home. I have the internet and books to connect me to other ideas and such in this very small town. After yesterday, however, I think I have become complacent in that existence, have enjoyed the isolation and to some extent the control I have over my narrow social life. I went to bed last night with my mind abuzz and thoroughly enjoyed the food! I believe it might be time to use a wider lens and broader scales. This is like mystery meat to me — letting go a little more of the need to know and opening the other hand to accept what I cannot anticipate. Do you really think I am up for this adventure, Lord?
I have to sign off but do not have a verse coming to mind so I will end in a prayer for me and maybe you:
Lord, Help me take steps along the path I do not know along the way that you are guiding me. Please forgive my self-induced doldrums and help me keep my eyes on you no matter the terrain. Thank you for loving me! Amen.
hearingnseeing 