In our comparison-driven culture, it’s sometimes tempting to think that God is pouring out His blessings on everyone but us.
We don’t know the whole story of other people’s lives, of course, or what it has cost them to be where they are and have what they have. But logic like that can often be overpowered by our own God-given longings and desires.
Several years ago, a photo in Traditional Home magazine caught my eye. It showed the second-floor hallway of a house with its walls completely covered in framed pictures.
This is the picture from Traditional Home magazine that inspired the photo wall on my basement landing.
I love decorating with family photographs, so I clipped out that page, thinking that if I ever had an opportunity, I would make a wall like that in my own house.
Sometime later, we moved into our current home. With its more open layout, it doesn’t have near the wall space for pictures that our previous house had.
But there is a landing on the basement stairs that is visible from the entry hall and living room. And as soon as I saw it, I knew it would be the perfect spot for one of those statement picture walls.
Other home-improvement projects took precedence in our fixer-upper, but eventually, Randy had repaired, refinished, remodeled and repainted practically everything in the main living areas, including the basement stairwell. Finally, it was time to tackle that photo project.
Summertime, and the livin’ is easy—or so the old song goes.
Easy isn’t quite how I’d describe what’s been going around here, though. We haven’t eased into summer break; we’ve charged ahead with all cylinders at full throttle. All the cylinders of my minivan’s poor engine, that is—the same vehicle that logged a grand total of 15 round trips to Lilly’s ballet school last week.
Sounds crazy, I know. But that’s what happens when your daughter volunteers at a morning theater camp and then returns later in the day to participate in long rehearsals for the school’s upcoming performances of Cinderella.
It’s all good, but it doesn’t leave much time for focused writing. So today, I’m going to take a cue from all those “What I Learned in May” blog posts I saw last week and offer up my own little summary of recent observations. Since it covers more than a month, let’s just call it “What I Learned This Spring.”
• Possums can climb straight up tree trunks and walk along the top of wooden fences. They also don’t mind when you take pictures of them in your backyard.
• Accidentally hitting publish on a blog post that you’ve barely started writing is momentarily embarrassing, but it’s not the end of the world.
• It is entirely possible to break your foot and not feel any pain at all unless you are trying to walk (or so I’m told).
• Perennials in your flowerbeds that originated in someone else’s garden produce the loveliest blooms.
• After you spend years avoiding nearly all forms of social media, joining the Twittersphere (@loisflowers16) is not nearly as complicated or scary as you thought it would be.
• When your OneWord for the year is satisfied, you had better prepare yourself for an onslaught of opportunities to be just the opposite.
• Choosing to outfit an entire basement wall in floor-to-almost-ceiling bookshelves is one of the best decorating decisions you will ever make.
• And who knew that listening to your 11- and 14-year-old daughters argue about who gets to go to Lowe’s with Dad on Saturday morning could bring you so much joy?
• The hardest part of teaching a class for women at your church is not the actual teaching, nor the actual preparing. It’s the mental and emotional battles that sometimes result from doing what you’ve been called to do.
• You might think that when one daughter finishes elementary school and the other daughter finishes middle school at the same time, you would be awash in sadness and sentimentality. But after witnessing all kinds of fascinating growth in each of them in recent months, you might actually find that you are quite looking forward to the next chapters in both of their lives.
• Friendships among people who share a love of books and reading are among the best friendships of all.
• Understanding from someone who was once where you are is a rare and precious gift.
• When you’re all out of words, it’s OK not to say anything at all.
♥ Lois
Francesca Battistelli’s latest CD has been on autoplay in my kitchen lately, and one song in particular has caused me to reflect on the live-giving friendships I’ve enjoyed over the decades.
Often marked by deep conversation, a love of books and—always—lots of laughter, these relationships have spanned generations and seasons of life, miles and family status.
In my adult years , they’ve developed over tea at coffee shops and breakfast bagels at ice-cream shops. They’ve grown across office work stations and kitchen islands, at MOPS meetings and school reception desks, in church lobbies and women’s Bible studies, and—more recently and much to my great delight—even through blog posts and comments.
I dare not start listing names, for fear of leaving out someone especially dear. But I think that’s OK—you know who you are. What you may not know, though, is how much you mean to me. That’s why the Song of the Month for June is dedicated to you—because to me, you are the “Hands of God.”
For me, prayer is a conversation. A written conversation, mostly.
As I explained here, I get distracted easily, and the only thing that really keeps me focused when I’m praying is typing out my words.
I’ve been journaling my prayers for so long that it seems almost second nature to me. But I can see how it might be a little constricting—maybe even intimidating—for someone who is not used to doing it.
Of course, when it comes to prayer, sometimes the issue’s not the format. Maybe it’s the fact that—for whatever reason—God seems distant, aloof or uninterested in our lives. Maybe we feel awkward talking to someone we can’t see. Maybe we can’t think of anything to say.
Maybe we trusted Him as hard as we could for some really big thing, and the outcome left us hurt, angry or disappointed.
Anyone?
I don’t think giving God the silent treatment is the answer, though.
What are we afraid of, anyway? That He might hear us and do something we don’t like? That He might hear us and do nothing?
He will not do nothing—of that, I am sure. We may not see it now, but He is always working.
But don’t look to me and my theories and ideas to bolster your faith. (Trust me—that won’t get you very far.) Don’t put your hope in myriad authors, pastors, bloggers and speakers who are trying to equip you or encourage you or help you feel like you’re not alone (as beneficial as they often are).
Take it up with the Creator of the Universe and the Maker of your Soul.
Talk to Him—openly, honestly, without worrying about format or syntax.
Ask Him to open your eyes to the way He has been working in your life—all along, even in those most painful moments when you think He couldn’t possibly have been there.
He was there, after all. Whether you want to acknowledge it, or not. Whether you are emotionally able to acknowledge it, or not.
He was there, and He was loving you.
He still is, in fact. And He won’t ever stop.
Here’s the thing.
We wonder why life is hard, why we’ve been so afflicted, why we struggle so mightily with things that others often can’t understand. Why won’t God just fix it? What’s the use is trying to live the Christian life when we just seem to get more of the same?
Perhaps what we should wonder, instead, is where would we be had the hand of God NOT been on our lives. What have the prayers that others have lifted on our behalf—even in generations past—kept from us? What have they kept US from? Where would we be if Jesus Christ were not, at this very moment, interceding on our behalf at the right hand of the Father?
It’s easy to look back and point fingers and wonder where God was. But maybe, as we look back, it would be better if we tried to give thanks for all that we have surely been spared—not to minimize our past trials or diminish our current pain, but to build our faith in the One who is guiding our future.
♥ Lois
We wonder why life is hard, why we struggle so mightily with things that others often can’t understand. Instead, perhaps we should wonder where would we be had the hand of God NOT been on our lives. Share on XFor the first few months of the year, I spent most of my Sunday evenings talking to a group of women at my church about how God uses the trials and struggles in our lives to make us more useful to Him.
The content of the class, which largely grew out of my years in the wilderness, has been simmering in my mind and heart for a long time. At the outset, the thought of writing 10 hour-long lessons was a bit intimidating because I had never done anything like that before. But I had what I felt like was a clear calling from God, along with friends and family members who were committed to praying for me. So although I knew it would be a challenge, I was excited about doing it.