Graces

Showing grace by entering his world:

Showing grace by allowing him to enter ours:

Lavish Grace

My husband writes excellent posts. I find him incredibly profound, and yet somehow easy to read and simple to understand. I am very fond of my head. πŸ˜€

He recently has written up a few posts expounding on principles that Mr. Wilson spoke on at a conference we attended in April. One of them discussed the emphasis on grace that we need to have with our children, just as God has with us (His children). Steven and I have constantly gone back to this theme of grace, grace, grace ever since the conference, and I feel like it is changing not only my parenting, but also many of my relationships in general (I posted this last fall, which is another great reminder of grace spilled into relationships). It is beautiful. It is freeing. It is powerful.

In this post Steven wrote emphasizing grace in parenting, he talks about how God lavishly dumps heaps of grace upon our heads, and how we need to imitate that by lavishly dumping it upon our children as well: “We should overflowingly spill grace to our kids.

Steven and I have discussed, on occasion, different ways that we spill grace to our Gabriel (and to our other babies too). Diligent, consistent training & discipline is one way we spill grace (one of our imitations of God). Teaching & indulging curiosity about God’s created world. Reading extra books at bedtime. Having a cookie picnic on the kitchen floor just for fun. Laughing over spilled milk instead of crying. Allowing jolly messes to be made (I’m thinking blanket forts, fingerpainting, and trucks in the mud) and joyfully cleaning them up. Adding bubbles to the bath. Not exasperating. Playing silly games over and over and over. Showing them how to use the vacuum. Teaching how bread is made, how to chop onions, how to pour lemonade. Taking them places, even if it’s just to the bank. Jumping in mud puddles, and following it up with a lesson on laundry while drinking hot cocoa. Singing, praying, going to church together. Partaking of the Lord’s Supper together.
This list could be endless, and I could go on & on — which just reiterates the point that we have endless opportunities to overflowingly spill grace to our kids. Especially because, as Steven says, faithful discipling & disciplining of our children is the first & foremost way of spilling grace upon them — and we all know that there are countless times in every day where we are able to spill that particular grace! πŸ™‚

But what I really wanted to share here was a simple yet profound statement my husband said to me when we discussed this a few days ago:

  • Showing grace to our children isn’t just entering into their world — it is that, but it is only partly that. It is also allowing them to enter ours.

Isn’t that profound? And isn’t that excellent? How God-like!! Just as He enters our world, He allows us to enter His as well. In part now, and in fullness yet to come.
All honor, laud, and glory be to Him.

Good Old Quotes

“To be Queen Elizabeth within a definite area, deciding sales, banquets, labours, and holidays; to be Whitely within a certain area, providing toys, boots, cakes and books; to be Aristotle within a certain area, teaching morals, manners, theology, and hygiene; I can imagine how this can exhaust the mind, but I cannot imagine how it could narrow it. How can it be a large career to tell other people about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone and narrow to be everything to someone? No, a woman’s function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute.”

~G.K. Chesterton~

“Oh that God would give every mother a vision of the glory and splendor of the work that is given to her when a babe is place in her bosom to be nursed and trained! Could she have but one glimpse in to the future of that life as it reaches on into eternity; could she look into its soul to see its possibilities; could she be made to understand her own personal responsibility for the training of this child, for the development of its life, and for its destiny,–she would see that in all God’s world there is no other work so noble and so worthy of her best powers, and she would commit to no others hands the sacred and holy trust given to her.”

~J.R. Miller~

“Our natural reason looks at marriage and turns up its nose and says, “Alas! Must I rock the baby? Wash its diapers? Make its bed? Smell its stench? Stay at nights with it? Take care of it when it cries? Heal its rashes and sores? And on top of that care for my spouse, provide labor at my trade, take care of this and take care of that? Do this and do that? And endure this and endure that? Why should I make such a prisoner of myself?”

What then does Christian faith say to this? It opens its eyes, looks upon all these insignificant, distasteful and despised duties in the spirit, and is aware that they are all adorned with divine approval as with the costliest gold and jewels.

It says, “O God, I confess I am not worthy to rock that little babe or wash its diapers, or to be entrusted with the care of a child and its mother. How is it that I without any merit have come to this distinction of being certain that I am serving thy creature and thy most precious will? Oh, how gladly will I do so. Though the duty should be even more insignificant and despised, neither frost nor heat, neither drudgery nor labor will distress me for I am certain that it is thus pleasing in thy sight.” “

~Martin Luther~

More About Syllables

When I posted this about Gabriel’s name, I never expected to ellicit the response I did. πŸ™‚

I figure some of you might enjoy a response, so I thought I might as well give it another post. Why not? πŸ™‚ Originally, I didn’t even put it up in search of a discussion about the validity (or not) of nicknames or terms of endearment. I was actually just being kind of silly. I do suppose you could call it a pet peeve of mine — we just aren’t a family of Steve, Mel, & Gabe. It just isn’t us. But in all actuality, I was making light of it in that post. I guess the smiley and wordage didn’t come across as I expected it to. That’s one of the problems with the written word — it’s hard to tell intention without facial expression and voice inflection sometimes. πŸ™‚

I am in awe of Gabriel’s existence these days. As we find out more details about the fight his brothers & sisters have had in my womb, I am just amazed that Gabriel is alive. His name means “God is my strength,” and I just think that is true about his very existence. He probably, by physical explanation, ought to have died in my womb like his brothers & sisters. And I’m not saying that God hasn’t been the strength of his siblings too — I believe that He has given them strength all the way on their six journeys past heaven’s gate. But I think God gave Gabriel, even when he was but a tiny blastocyst and embryo, particular strength and stamina to survive the hostile environment in my womb. So I have recently fallen even more in love with his name, its meaning, its sound, its syllables.

I guess I just didn’t make my awe clear previously. πŸ™‚

At any rate… now that y’all have turned it into a discussion, I figured I might as well respond to a couple of the points that were made. πŸ™‚

Yes, we do get to call him whatever we want atΒ  home! πŸ˜€ But to extend that… we also get to name our children whatever we want. His name is Gabriel — if we wanted him named Gabe, we would have named him Gabe David instead of Gabriel David. You wouldn’t call him Joseph or Caleb as a term of endearment — I don’t really see why calling him a name (i.e. Gabe) that is not his own, is endearing. But that’s just me. πŸ™‚ Like someone said in a comment, people should honor the parents’ prerogative in that way.

Yes, it is more the acquaintances (and not family members, or even close friends) who do this with my son’s name. It isn’t so much a term of endearment as a term of casualness. Someone will ask, “what is your son’s name?” and after I tell them, they’ll look at him and say, “hi, Gabe, it’s nice to meet you” (for instance). So it’s strange — the automatic shortening, as one of you put it. Wouldn’t you think that the way someone is introduced to you is the way you ought to address them? If I introduce myself to someone as “Mrs. C–” (forgive me for omitting the name; I don’t like to include last names online), I would not appreciate it if the response was, “okay, Melissa.”

If someone asked me, “Gabriel — nice name, would it be okay if we called him Gabe? It would be easier for my toddler to pronounce”… at least that would be giving me an opportunity to say yay or nay on the subject. And I would, as you might guess, say “you know, we’d really prefer if you called our son Gabriel. It’s okay if your toddler can’t pronounce it yet. We know it’ll be pronounced correctly someday.” (One of my favorite things was when Gabriel’s first real friend called him Gable, as he tried so hard to pronounce his name! And now one of his friends calls him BeBe-Oh. So cute.) It’s kind of like my son calling my mother “Mimi.” Her name is Grandmama, but he pronounces it Mimi at this point. He’ll get there. Eventually it will come out correctly.

One of you described it as murdering the beauty of the name your mother picked out for you. I guess that’s sort of how I look at it too. Names are hugely important. That’s one thing I adore about Scripture — names. God named things with beautiful, intricate meaning. His people named things too, according to that pattern. And they still do, largely, today. I can not picture God calling David the psalmist “Dave” (even though he was the man after God’s own heart), or Moses “Mo” (even though God spoke to him and revealed Himself to him). If you want to get all official about this, I believe the meanings of names to be incredibly important. (If you don’t believe me, just check out all my babies’ names in the “About Me” section and you’ll see what I mean!) We pick out beautiful names for our children. On purpose. These children are born to us. Given to us. And we are given the responsibility to bestow names upon them. Appropriate names. Beautiful names. Overflowing with meaning.

As for believing the best about people, I totally get that & 100% agree. I do not at all think that someone is being purposely disrespectful by using a nickname (I guess I just call it ignorance or presumption). I am not at all bitter about people calling my son Gabe. I have never snapped in anyone’s face about it. I’ve never ignored someone when they’ve referenced him with a shortened version of his name. Besides, I have become quite good at either ignoring peoples’ blind comments or simply covering them with love — I gets heaps & hoards of them all the time, especially about my children. So yes, I definitely agree that this is not something to become bitter or resentful about.

Again though, just as it is my job to be gracious to people who call my son something other than his name, I also want to reiterate that it is my job to be gracious to people by calling them by their name, by calling them what they want to be called, by calling their children by their beautiful given names. Unless I am invited/asked to call someone by a nickname, it is a show of honor, respect, love, and affection to call them by their name.

I Love This Boy, Body & Soul

“Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.
If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.
Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements.
Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.
But in that casket–safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change.
It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.
To love is to be vulnerable.

~C.S. Lewis

“You don’t have a soul. You are a Soul.

You have a body.” ~C.S. Lewis

Bittersweet

Rejoicing in God’s bittersweet providences today.

On this Father’s Day, we are honoring my darling Steven, the father of our quiver’s seven descendants.

Proverbs 17:6
Grandchildren are the crown of the aged,
and the glory of children is their fathers.

Proverbs 23:24
The father of the righteous will greatly rejoice;
he who fathers a wise son will be glad in him.

And on this June 20th, we are remembering our precious Promise Anastasis, the fourth arrow in our quiver.

Psalm 119:76
Let your steadfast love comfort me according to your promise to your servant.

1 peter 1:3-5
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to His great mercy,
He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,
to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you,
who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.

One Month

Sun shines in through my bedroom window
But gray clouds begin to line the sky.

I held you for just a few weeks;
My brokenness cries out, Why, Lord, why?

Your frame in secret was never hid,
Although I saw you not, our Father always did.

Knit together by His perfect design–
Image of His, your daddy’s, and mine.

A break in the clouds, a sun ray glows,
I strain to see heaven: you’re there, I know.

The clouds come again, the rain to pour,
I long for heaven so I can hold you once more.

The rain isn’t coming, ’tis only the tears
That Mommy cries for you darling, and will through the years.

One day as a thousand, and those as a day,
This month has seemed endless: you’re so far away.

But I will come to you, no more tears in my eye,
And we’ll glorify God together, my children and I.

These days are dark and dreary as I tread here on the earth
My womb, arms , heart and mind cry out: new life and birth!

Yet God is good and gracious, with mercies new each day,
He gives to us His wisdom, love, and comfort when we pray.

So my precious children, I praise Him through the pain,
Confident that someday I will get to hold you once again.

The Lord will bless and keep, and shine His face so bright,
While brother, Daddy, and I cling to faith with all our might.

Vial Levity

Yesterday we had some blood drawn. My husband had four vials done, which may be the most he’s ever had at one time. I had 25, which is not the most I have ever had at one time.

In fact, when I saw the tubes divided into little containers (blood was being sent to four labs, and each lab’s vials were in its own container), I said to the lab lady who knows me by name (it’s just too much trouble to call her a phlebotomist), “is that all? I thought there would be more than that!” She thought I was crazy but I was totally serious.

About ten months ago I had 32 vials drawn at once, and it was scary to me at the time.

But now needles have become a habitual part of life for me. And getting my blood drawn is like child’s play.

So it’s just funny to me, seeing how my perspective has changed over the last year:
25 vials of blood? Eh, piece of cake! πŸ˜€

exerpt from “Streams In The Desert”

The summer showers are falling. The poet stands by the window watching them. They are beating and buffeting the earth with their fierce downpour. But the poet sees in his imaginings more than the showers which are falling before his eyes. He sees myriads of lovely flowers which shall be soon breaking forth from the watered earth, filling it with matchless beauty and fragrance. And so he sings:

It isn’t raining rain for me, it’s raining daffodils;
In every dimpling drop I see wild flowers upon the hills.
A cloud of gray engulfs the day, and overwhelms the town;
It isn’t raining rain for me: it’s raining roses down.

Perchance some one of God’s chastened children is even now saying, “O God, it is raining hard for me tonight. Testings are raining upon me which seem beyond my power to endure. Disappointments are raining fast, to the utter defeat of all my chosen plans. Bereavements are raining into my life which are making my shrinking heart quiver in its intensity of suffering. The rain of affliction is surely beating down upon my soul these days.”

Withal, friend, you are mistaken. It isn’t raining rain for you. It’s raining blessing. For, if you will but believe your Father’s Word, under that b eating rain are springing up spiritual flowers of such fragrance and beauty as never before grew in that stormless, unchastened life of yours.

You indeed see the rain. But do you see also the flowers? You are pained by the testings. But God sees the sweet flower of faith which is upspringing in your life under those very trials.

You shrink from the suffering. But God sees the tender compassion for other sufferers which is finding birth in your soul.

Your heart winces under the sore bereavement. But God sees the deepening and enriching which that sorrow has brought to you.

It isn’t raining afflictions for you. It is raining tenderness, love, compassion, patience, and a thousand other flowers and fruits of the blessed Spirit, which are bringing into your life such a spiritual enrichment as all the fullness of worldly prosperity and ease as never able to beget in your innermost soul.

Dress With Care

It is said of the Proverbs 31 woman that she is dressed (or clothed) with dignity and with strength (verses 17 & 25). These are important, hugely important, for any woman of God. A lot could be said about that at another time.

But I’m thinking about something different at the moment. I just finished ironing a pile of clothing. The majority of it belonged to my darling husband. I realized that I love to iron his pants and shirts, and was trying to figure out why.
I love to take care of his clothing — removing stains, washing it, drying it, folding it, ironing it, putting it away, etc. He doesn’t let me pick out his clothes for him or even go through his drawers to decide what things need to be retired — those are his self-appointed jobs. πŸ™‚ But I do the caring of his clothing (reminds me of Prov 31:21). Not only so he looks good, but also so people who see him know that he is loved — that he has a wife at home who loves to care for her husband in physical, tangible, visible ways.

You see, the way my husband looks, reflects upon me.
Just like the way that I look reflects upon him.

This reminds me that my body is not my own. I know that 1 Corinthians 7 is speaking of marital love and the marriage bed when it says “For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does”… but I really think that principle is well applied in other areas. It is the very idea of self-sacrifice, putting another before one’s self, and Christlike love coming into play.

I do not dress for myself.
I dress for my husband.

And I’m not just talking about cute little nighties.
I’m talking about jeans, t-shirts, dresses, footwear, sweaters — anything that goes on my body.
I dress for him.
It reflects upon him.
I do dress to please him — what wife doesn’t want to catch her husband’s eye when he walks in after a long day’s work?
But I also dress to reflect well upon him.

(And yes, my words, my stance, my clothing, my actions — they all reflect upon my husband.)

To reflect well upon him, I want to show the world that I have a hardworking husband who provides for our needs very well; that he loves to adorn my beauty and fill my closet; that he loves beauty as well as godly modesty; that he loves my skin enough to conceal it; that he keeps my body for himself.

And, likewise, the way he dresses reflects upon me.
The way our son dresses reflects upon us.

So yes, while also taking passages like Matthew 6 and 1 Peter 3 into consideration, clothing is important. Like actions. Like words.
We should desire to praise God through everything we do, including the way we adorn the physical bodies He has blessed us with. I want to honor God through my clothing. And I want to honor my husband through my clothing. (Prov 31:22)

So next time you’re ironing your husband’s clothes — think about reflection. Your reflection. His reflection. Your reflection of Christ. How we reflect upon one another.

Clothes are important. Dress with care.