What’s next?

Posted on October 21, 2013 by Margaret

Yesterday I blogged about the webinar that took place two weeks ago, an unnerving experience that turned out to be a wonderful opportunity. My sister Mary, who I’ve leaned on since we were little girls, agreed to drive the 90 minute round trip with me… twice. “It’ll be fun,” she said, letting go of whatever else she’d planned to do that day. Her presence was a great stabilizer.

After praying with me in the parking lot before the webinar she said, “I’ll just stay in the car and work on my Bible study while you’re inside. Let me know if you need me.”

As it turned out, I did. Following the webinar, two editors expressed interest in another book possibility. Since Mary and I had begun writing about motherhood 10 years ago, we were able to share those ideas and receive professional editor- input. (Mary remembered far more than I did.) Although we hadn’t studied our files for years, talking to the editors relit our desire to write a book from old mommies to young mommies about what we wish we’d known at the beginning.

On the way home we marveled at how God moves his light along life’s path one next-step at a time, but not till he’s ready. Nothing may come of this book idea that’s been lying dormant for 7 years, but suddenly he has lit one step and asked us to walk into it.

On the way home we pulled into McDonald’s and decided to eat outdoors, since the weather was picture-perfect. We found a sunny curb out back and continued talking about the step we’d just taken. Before long a seagull appeared, begging for a French fry.

As we tossed him one, he hopped closer, and we noticed he was holding up one leg. His other foot was discolored and withered.

It was an interesting parallel to our conversation. The bird might have said, “I see those French fries but can’t walk over there.”

Mary and I could say, “There are a million books on motherhood, most written by experts. Who wants to hear from two regular moms? Let’s not take that step.” We might have said that, even while facing a lighted path.

But the bird hopped on over, and we fed him well. Mary and I have decided to hop forward, too. Maybe the book won’t come to fruition, but whenever God lights the way, it’s a good idea to step into it.

None of us has the luxury of seeing all the way down a path that’s mostly in the shadows. But when God illuminates even a small part of it, we can step (or hop) forward with confidence. And that’s especially true when most of the path is still in the dark.

“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known; along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them.” (Isaiah 42:16)

Try, Try, and Try Again

Posted on October 14, 2013 by Margaret

Back in the sixties, Elvis Presley recorded a love song called, “Trying to Get to You.”

I’ve been traveling over mountains,
Even through the valleys, too.
I’ve been traveling night and day;
I’ve been running all the way,
Baby, trying to get to you.

When someone is in love, nothing can dissuade him from wanting to be with his beloved. A great illustration of this was when my friend Carole was engaged to her Reggie in 1969. She was in Florida, preparing their first apartment, and he was finishing a job 1400 miles away, in Chicago

Being separated was torture, and they spent hours on the phone. Then one day Reggie couldn’t wait another minute and jumped into his orange VW Beetle, pointing it south. Except for gasoline stops, he put pedal to the metal, “trying to get to Carole.”

While in England recently I experienced another version of the same thing. Early each morning as Katy and Hans supervised the waking, dressing, and bed-making of their 4 children, I was “hiding out” in the next room, taking advantage of a few minutes devotional time. They facilitated my efforts by telling the children, “No one disturbs MeeMee when her door is closed.”

One morning while sitting on the bed praying, I heard whispers in the hall. “She’s in there!” Suddenly 10 little fingertips appeared under my door trying to get as close to me as possible without violating the parental edict. Soon a second and third set of fingertips appeared, “trying to get to me.” I felt very loved.

All of us will make a major effort to get close to who (or what) we love. That includes both appropriate love (such as between engaged couples) and inappropriate (like drugs, for example). When love is strong, we work hard “trying to get to” whoever or whatever it is.

I’ve wondered if I am that passionate toward the Father, Son, and Spirit. Am I “trying to get to them?” Or do I succumb to excuses not to try:

I’ll do my Bible study lesson after my work is done.
There will be other seasons of life when I can pray, but not now.
I can’t manage a spiritual life because I keep getting interrupted.

Our “get to you” factor is a good chance to see where we stand with the Lord. If we never get there, we probably should reassess.

On the flip side, anything I do to get to him can’t possibly compare with the effort he made to get to me. Jesus did it in two ways, first by setting aside divinity to put on humanity, and then by willingly suffering through death. His actions said, “I’ll do anything to get to you.”

When I remember Reggie’s race to Carole or my grandchildren’s fingertips under the door, I can ask myself, “Am I trying to get to God like that?”

“If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.” (John 14:23)

Cold Feet

Posted on October 10, 2013 by Margaret

Last week, when strapping Emerald into her stroller for a walk, we noticed a missing bootee had been placed atop the buggy’s hood. Later a neighbor said she’d found it on the road while walking her puppy 4 blocks away. “It had to be Emerald’s,” she said.

This week when I went to answer a gentle knock on my front door, there stood another neighbor holding up a pink bootee. “I found it on my walk,” she said, “2 blocks down. It had to be Emerald’s.”

Emerald is forever pulling off her socks/booties and dropping them along the way, like Hansel and Gretel dropped bread crumbs. Although Birgitta, Louisa, and I try to keep an eye, it never fails that when we arrive home, one or both are missing.

All summer Emerald has been barefoot, but the other day it was chilly, so we tried socks and shoes. The darling purple slippers with Velcro straps were perfectly sized to her feet, but sure enough, by the end of the walk they were gone. We backtracked 3 blocks before we found the 2 socks and 2 shoes.

The next time we used her lace-up high-whites, but she balled up her toes so stiffly we couldn’t get them on. I have no idea what we’re going to do with our barefoot baby as seasonal temperatures dip further.

We 3 adults want only to help our little girl, but she views compulsory footwear as a withdrawal of her freedom to be barefoot. The spiritual parallel is obvious: God steadily tries to help us, too, but we often see his ideas as a withdrawal of our freedom. Emerald likes her way better than ours and will continue to pursue barefoot-ed-ness, a silly plan as winter approaches.

But do the rest of us respond to God with similar childishness?

For example, God says, “Why don’t you forgive that person you’re holding a grudge against? If you do, you’ll lose that chip on your shoulder that’s continually upsetting you.”

But rather than acquiesce, we respond Emerald-esque: “The way I’m handling it is better, so I’m going to continue in my anger.” At that point, God has a choice. He can either let us have our own way, stuck in our misery, or he can bring things to a head in an effort to help us, since he loves us dearly.

In the same way, we can give Emerald permission, so to speak, to go barefoot through our Michigan winter, or we can insist she wear footwear. Because we love her dearly, we’re going to insist. She’ll object only because she hasn’t had any experience with stinging-cold toes or painful frostbite, and we hope she never will.