His Grandfather's Child

Tonight Luke and I went to the LCS homecoming game. It was a close game, with LCS coming up on the short end of a 24-21 score. (I had forgotten how slow small high school football is. I miss the Raiders!)

On the way home, Luke says: "I don't think I want to play football. People can push you and knock you down."
Me: "So what about the band? Do you think you would like to do that?"
Him: "No. I want to be the announcer."

Sleepy!

I should be working right now, but I just woke up.

This happens EVERY single time Rob is out of town. After putting Grace to bed, I then proceed to read to Luke 14 zillion chapters of the latest saga in the lives of the Alden children, AKA the Boxcar Children.

And then . . . when I should be hastening quietly from the room, I instead fall into a deep sleep. I wake up--usually--several hours later, disgruntled, confused, and dazed. Then it dawns on me that the evening is over, the night has come, and all my nightly "chores" and schoolwork are still undone.

Groan.

I did have a rather fabulous nap. Too bad it began at 9:00 p.m.

Does anyone else ever do this?
Jana

The birth of Jesus

This cracked me up.

This last Sunday & Wednesday, Luke has been learning about the prophesies concerning the coming of Jesus that took place during the 400+ years between the testaments.

I was making signs with some of the prophecies written on them to put along one wall in his classroom. Examples: Soldiers will gamble for his clothes; His bones will never be broken; He is coming . . . You get the idea.

He's reading each one as it rolls out of the printer. He picked up the last one, laughed, and said, "My cousins will love this one." Why? I asked. "Because it says, "Jesus will be born of a Virginian. I didn't know THAT was in there!"

I'm still cracking up. I love this kid!
Jana

Speaking of suffering . . .

Luke made a 50 on his AR test today. Apparently, he picked a book with three stories, read the first one, then headed to the computer to take his test. He answered the questions from the first story correctly, then missed all the rest.

And it ruined his day.

It ruined the morning, it ruined recess, it ruined the afternoon. When I picked him up for school, he didn't want to play on the playground or go to the library like he usually begs to do.

He slumped to the van; I trotted behind him, asking if everything was ok. He mumbled, "It's fine, Mom. Really."

Then the 50 on the test ruined the ride home, the late afternoon, and the early evening. It wasn't until later tonight that he confessed to his dad what had happened. When he realized that it really WAS NOT the end of the world, he brightened considerably.

Boy, oh boy.

On my end of things, I'm thinking, "Good grief! Doesn't he know that this really isn't a big deal? Doesn't he know he will take thousands of these tests before this AR thing is all over? Doesn't he realize that, in the big picture of his life, this is less than tiny? Even in the big picture of 1st grade, this doesn't really have LASTING consequences."

But isn't that the way of it for all of us? It is for me.

The least sign that I'm failing, that I've made a mistake, big or small, and I resign myself to a life of failure. I assume that my error, mistake, or sin is weighty enough to have ruined my life, or the life of someone else. The mistake doesn't have to be huge. But I will let it ruin my: morning, my afternoon, my evening, and all the fun "recess" periods in between.

It would be better if I looked at the bigger picture more often.

Jana

Thoughts on suffering

Everywhere I turn these days, someone is suffering.

I don't have to go any great distance, or look very far, or even be very perceptive to see the pain.

Today, in our faculty/staff worship time, we grieved and celebrated the life of a woman who worked for many years on our campus; she was forced to resign in order to deal with a ravaging cancer that ultimately took her life last night.

I never met her, but I have been reading email updates regarding her health for the last 2 years. In some small way, I feel like I know her and the spirit of her family.

The email today asked us to celebrate and rejoice, as she had been delivered into the hands or her loving Savior. The message, written by her daughter, was beautiful. Even in the earliest hours of her pain, she was able to encourage and rejoice.

So many others today are still waiting for God's answer and for evidence of His love. Diana's mother, who battles brain cancer. My dentist and brother in Christ, Dr. Tim, who is close to death. Trisha's family, as they mourn a young, precious boy. The list goes on. . .

In our grief, the truth is simply this: God WILL redeem us, save us, and heal us temporarily from death, or He will redeem us, save us, and heal us through death.

But what to do in the season of pain? How do I address my own doubts?

Centuries ago, Gregory of Nicaea called a fellow church leader's faith ambidextrous, because he welcomed pleasures with the right hand and afflictions with the left, convinced that both would serve God's design for him. Tough words. I believe them today, but what about tomorrow?

I like the writer John Masefield's poem:
"And God who gives beginning
gives the end . . .
A rest for broken things too broke
to mend."

I guess what I am trying to say is that some of our pains, our griefs, our sorrows will never go away. Some wounds never heal completely. Some problems don't get any fathomable solution. But we have the hope that God can redeem even the wound.

In Christ, we must never grieve like those who have no hope.
Jana

Nothing quite so nice as mice!

I like Mickey Mouse. His friend, Minnie, is lovely. The three "Mouse-ke-teers" are also quite charming.

But the family of mice living in my back yard are about to do me in.

My husband says, " What's the big deal? They're just field mice."

I reminded him that we do not live in a field. We live in almost the dead center of Lubbock, with nary a field in sight.

I guess he got tired of hearing a shrill shrieking noise (that was me, not the mice) every time I went outside and spotted gray fur scurrying down alongside the bottom of our fence.

He put out two mice traps--the kind that lure the mice in and then twirl them around inside a circular container that advertises "no viewing" of the dead mouse. (Goodness gracious--who would want to view that?!)

So far, they haven't been interested in checking out this disasterous joyride.

But, I am still having the pleasure of seeing them. I spotted one just a few minutes ago, and I think I heard him chatting with a friend.

So if you're outside sometime this week, and you hear shrieking, it's me. Sorry.

Jana