Jodilightful!

 I have kind of a love-hate relationship with the woman described in Proverbs 31.  In case you haven’t met her (or as a little refresher course for those who have), here’s what she’s like.

10 Who can find a virtuous wife? For her worth is far above rubies. 11 The heart of her husband safely trusts her; So he will have no lack of gain. 12 She does him good and not evil All the days of her life. 13 She seeks wool and flax, And willingly works with her hands. 14 She is like the merchant ships, She brings her food from afar. 15 She also rises while it is yet night, And provides food for her household, And a portion for her maidservants.

16 She considers a field and buys it; From her profits she plants a vineyard. 17 She girds herself with strength, And strengthens her arms. 18 She perceives that her merchandise is good, And her lamp does not go out by night. 19 She stretches out her hands to the distaff, And her hand holds the spindle. 20 She extends her hand to the poor, Yes, she reaches out her hands to the needy. 21 She is not afraid of snow for her household, For all her household is clothed with scarlet. 22 She makes tapestry for herself; Her clothing is fine linen and purple.

23 Her husband is known in the gates, When he sits among the elders of the land. 24 She makes linen garments and sells them, And supplies sashes for the merchants. 25 Strength and honor are her clothing; She shall rejoice in time to come. 26 She opens her mouth with wisdom, And on her tongue is the law of kindness. 27 She watches over the ways of her household, And does not eat the bread of idleness.

28 Her children rise up and call her blessed; Her husband also, and he praises her: 29 “Many daughters have done well, But you excel them all.” 30 Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. 31 Give her of the fruit of her hands, And let her own works praise her in the gates.

I love this passage because of the hope it provides, hope that there is a right way to do this whole wife/mother thing and that the end result is totally worth the effort. I chose my eBay seller ID to reflect my desire to be this kind of wife. I even considered naming this blog something to do with rubies, but then I thought, “Who am I kidding?”  This woman is not me, and while it’s nice to think that there is a concrete goal in sight, it’s a pretty tall order!

I think I was about five years married and was pregnant with my second baby before I ever really studied this chapter, and it’s been haunting me and prodding me ever since. A dear (American) friend in Scotland introduced me to this blog, which had recently done a series called “The 5AM Club” (you’re dying to know where to sign up, right?) based on the principle in verse 15. I know it is only a matter of time until I commit to getting up before my family, at least a few days a week, because the Lord keeps bringing it up over and over again, and I’m starting to get the hint. I tried it again a few weeks ago (lasted two whole days!) and definitely noticed God using it to bless my family, but just couldn’t stick it. I know I’ll get back on the horse sooner or later, but for now we’re still working through some glitches with the whole three babies in one room thing, and I think my girls are blessed by a Mommy who catches a few extra Z’s in the morning.

Anyway, last night at my marriage Bible study, we looked at this passage.  (I know!  The whole thing!)  Well, let’s just say, I haven’t arrived yet.  Apart from not being quite convinced yet on the “rising while it is still night” thing, I could probably tell you about at least ten more areas of this passage in which I’m still completely hopeless growing, but for tonight, I’ll have to leave you wanting more.  This post and this evening have rather gotten away from me, and I would certainly not be a good Proverbs 31 wife if I left my husband waiting on the sofa for me to join him so that we can watch Lost, now would I?  Watch this space, I’ll be back with more thoughts on this passage soon.  For now, just read the verses, and let me know what the Lord lays on your heart.

Watch me!

I should start with a confession: when I was little, I used to put on my curly red Annie wig and scrub my mom’s kitchen floor while singing “It’s the Hard Knock Life”. Annie was once my *favorite* movie, so tracking down this clip on YouTube made me just a little bit giddy. I will also admit that going to the movies nowadays is every bit as much of an event for me as it would have been for little orphan Annie during the depression (okay, almost).

It doesn’t happen often that we find someone who wants to watch all three of our little ones for the evening and we can justify spending the ridiculous fortune it costs to go to the movies now, but last night was one such night.  Thanks to a very well-planned Christmas present from Mary and Duncan, we had babysitters for an evening and managed to do the whole cinematic shebang (including popcorn, soda, and skittles) for $0.75 in total.  It was quite possibly one of our best date nights ever.  We saw The Other Boleyn Girl, and both really enjoyed it.  It sparked a long-dormant (wait, dormant implies that it was there once, which is not quite right…) interest in history for me, and was also fascinating to Trevor, who already knew the history of Henry VIII’s wives so well that halfway through the movie he leaned over and whispered to me, “divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, lived” (apparently this is something that every good English boy knows???).  We will forgive him if part of the initial draw to this movie was its connection to our favorite (or at least most-viewed) movie of all time, Where the Heart Is.

As I was saying, getting to the movies is a very big deal for me. In spite of there being times in my life when I went much more often than my current rate of, oh, once every six months, I think it has always been a big deal to me.   I enjoy the whole experience: the previews, the popcorn (mmm… especially the popcorn, the more butter the better), the grandness of it all.

What’s more, for better or for worse, I really do enjoy the movies themselves.  I find myself increasingly particular about what I want to have passing before my eyes (and ears) as I get older, and proportionately disturbed by what passes as appropriate viewing for a 13-year-old.  Juno springs to mind here.  I took my sister to see it a couple months ago, and although I appreciate that some aspects of the message were good… why, oh, why with the language?  (It didn’t bother Paige so much.  I rest my case.)

In spite of all that, I love how movies give me insight into the human condition and experience, good and bad.  They give me glimpses of the how the unredeemed mind sees the world, and of how deceptive my own heart can be.  They give me a sense of kinship with all mankind,  one place in the world or period in history at a time, one quirky personality type or unseen subculture at a time.  They cause me to marvel at the talents and beauty God has built into human beings, and sometimes at what poor stewards we can be of such gifts. And as I shake off that post-movie fog like waking up from a very real dream, I am always thankful that the truth is still what the Truth is, and not what Hollywood paints it to be.

Don’t forget to check out what he says here.

 We have this poem excerpt, witten in calligraphy by Auntie Audrey when Pippa was first born, framed in the girls’ room.

Song, from Pippa Passes, by Robert Browning

The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in his Heaven -
All’s right with the world!

On a whim today, I read it to the girls as I was getting Romilly up from her nap. Then I asked them, “Do you know what that poem is called?”

They didn’t know.  ”It’s called ’Pippa Passes’, ” I told them.

Groggy, but never to be left out, Romilly was quick to pipe up, with a disgruntled frown on her face:

“Ro-Ro passes, too!”

What will the teen years be like???

The Word of God is still full of surprises to me, even after 25 years or more of learning and reading it.  I have mentioned before (here and here) how my Ladies’ Bible study in Isaiah has been impressing on me just how well the Bible substantiates itself and sets itself apart as a divinely inspired book.  Check out what I picked up at today’s study, our last of the semester and a review of all we have learned.

It was the very end of the study today, and we were all just throwing out our last thoughts, when someone said, “I think God could have given us just Isaiah, and that would have been enough.”   Then someone else said, “Yeah, did you know that Isaiah is called the ‘mini-Bible’?”

No, I did not, thought I.  And this is what I then learned.

There are 66 books in the Bible (I knew that part). The first 39 are the Old testament, which, in general, tells the story of God’s law and resulting judgment on His people.  The last 27 books are the New Testament, which tells the story of God sending His Son as a redeemer to  buy back His wayward people.  It tells of His forgiveness and mercy, and the comfort His people find in Him.

Isaiah is a book of 66 chapters (I knew that, too, just never did the math). The first 39 tell of Judah’s rebellion and God’s resulting judgment on them. The last 27 tell of God’s plan to redeem His people through a suffering servant, and of the mercy, comfort, and peace that will result when His people learn to rely fully on Him and nothing else for their salvation.

Are you amazed yet?

Of course, I had to go home and check this out for myself (you know, like the Bereans).   Sure enough, chapter 39 ends up like this:

“5 Then Isaiah said to Hezekiah, Hear the word of the Lord of hosts: 6 Behold, the days are coming, when all that is in your house, and that which your fathers have stored up till this day, shall be carried to Babylon. Nothing shall be left, says the Lord.  7 And some of your own sons, who will come from you, whom you will father, shall be taken away, and they shall be eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon.   8 Then said Hezekiah to Isaiah, The word of the Lord that you have spoken is good. For he thought, There will be peace and security in my days.”

In spite of Hezekiah’s relief that this wouldn’t take place in his own lifetime, the outlook isn’t all that cheery there. Then chapter 40 begins like this:

“1 Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. 2 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins. 3 A voice cries: In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God. 4 Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. 5 And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

If you want to read the whole chapter, it just gets better and better.   I suddenly feel as though I need to go back and do the whole study again.  I am in awe.  Each new truth that I discover about how God’s Word holds together as a unit is like a water mark (or whatever they do nowadays that’s even more clever) on money.  It’s just too hard to fake these things.  It would be enough for me to know God’s hand in my life and His grace in my heart, but I thank Him today, once again, for going so far to satisfy my mind with the reality of His Truth.

My plan for Easter Monday was to take my time putting the house back together after the holiday weekend and getting everyone ready in time for my dear friend Jen coming for lunch. My water heater, however, had other plans. On Friday night we were all snuggled up to watch Lost on DVD, when we heard an unusual sound coming from the heating closet. It was leaking, but we didn’t worry at first, just switched off the hot water and got back to our date night. Since it was Easter weekend, we were out so much that we hardly missed having hot water. We just quietly hoped that, like so many other things in our home that have almost gone wrong, it would just sort itself.

On Sunday afternoon, I asked Trevor, ”Can we just switch the hot water back on so I can run the dishwasher?”  We both thought it would be fine, just for a couple of hours, but no, lots of leaking right away, quick-switch-it-back-off type situation.  So, reluctantly, we came to the conclusion that I would have to call someone first thing Monday morning.

I must say, we both felt such a peace about this huge expense cropping up so unexpectantly. The Lord has been so faithful in the finance department lately. We were spared a huge expense on our heater about a month ago when a very inventive repairman managed to fix it with a pair of pliers. Also, thanks to a complicated set of circumstances, we recently had a large pay out from a fender bender which we had no intention of using to fix the car in question (only cosmetic damage.) So, the Lord really went before us on this one, and as much as we had other ideas of how to use that check, we want for nothing.

Little did I know when I called the heater people at 8 AM in my PJs with morning breath and only two of the girls even awake let alone dressed or fed that they would (for once!) dispatch someone “within the half hour” and that my home would not be my own again until four and a half hours later, after having this new family member installed.

Having no hot water and a stranger in your home doesn’t really facilitate a whole-house clean-up, but I managed to get it together enough that I wasn’t embarrassed for Jen to see it when she got there. After all, she was here to see me and the girls, drink coffee, and feed us gooey brownies, not to inspect my home for dust bunnies. (Goodness, I hope so anyway!)

And all that we did! It was a lovely afternoon. The girls (even Pippa) indulged us by taking lovely long naps in the afternoon leaving us to ponder deep philosophical issues like debt, birth control, dating, marriage, homeschooling, and most of all the things of the Lord. Seriously. Over coffee! What a joy it is to spend time with friends who lift my eyes up to Him, and she always does.

Warm hot cross buns made by Trevor for breakfast.

Our family in eggs.

Family portrait outside the church nursery. (Thanks, Alecia!)

Egg-hunting at Aunt Mary’s.

Bea with Mom-mom.

Happy Easter from our family to yours.  He is risen indeed!

For obvious reasons, our topic du jour is Easter.  Why not see what he says first for a change?  Go ahead.  I’ll still be here.

Oh, you’re back already?  Okay, let’s get started then.

Easter, like most holidays, was a pretty big to-do in my home growing up.  Lots of this sort of thing.

And indeed, there is still a healthy dose of family tradition in our Easter festivities now. Today we were at Grandmom’s for egg-dying, with Mary, of course, who has has come every year for a very long time (even some years when I couldn’t make it to the festivities while I was in Scotland).

(Congratulations, Paigie, on your first appearance on my blog!)

I was pleasantly surprised this morning at the effort that was made at our church’s children’s Easter party to keep the focus where it should be.  Sure, there were some eggs, and there was some candy, but there was also a lesson about the resurrection, as well as this craft.
 

We have tried to read the resurrection story to the girls in as many different children’s Bibles as we could over the past few days, but I daresay the meaning of this holiday has still been somewhat eclipsed by Easter egg hunts and jelly beans in the girls’ impressionable young minds. Next year, I think we will have to try something different. Maybe something like this idea Amanda had of having a separate springy party a bit before Easter.

Just so the point is not missed here, this is what Easter is all about.

Luke 24:1 - 12

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were perplexed about this, behold, two men stood by them in dazzling apparel. And as they were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and on the third day rise. And they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb they told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women with them who told these things to the apostles, but these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter rose and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; and he went home marveling at what had happened. 

I chose Luke’s account because I could really relate to the apostles when they first heard this story. Isn’t that just what it is to us now if we let it become that? A story? An “idle tale” that we pull out once a year in the name of tradition?

Thank God for Peter, who immediately knew that it wasn’t just a story. That if it was true it was the most important event ever to have taken place on this earth. God Himself came to earth, lived a spotless, perfect life, and was killed by sinful man. In doing so He somehow, by God’s incredible grace, bore the weight of my sin, and died the death that I should have died as the penalty for my sin against God, so that I could receive what only He could deserve: an eternity to enjoy God and His Heaven.  And Christ proved every claim He made when He rose from the dead.

Would I have been like Peter and run for that tomb already rejoicing in my heart for what I knew I would find there? Maybe not. It might have sounded like an idle tale to me, too.  But by God’s grace, I know that it is not just a story, and as we remember the resurrection especially tomorrow, I pray that God will impress on my heart the weight of what was accomplished on the cross that day long ago.

I just ran into my cousin Michael at the grocery store while we were both shopping for some last minute Easter essentials.  Here, let me see if I can find a picture of him so you’ll know what he looks like.  Oh, good.  Here’s one of us at Easter – how festive and timely!  (That’s me in the middle and his sister my cousin Holly at the left.)

Wait… hang on.  I might have a more recent one.  Ah yes, here he is at his wedding last October.
 

Okay, it is one thing for me to be grown up and married with three kids, but it is quite another matter for my little cousin Michael to be married.    He’s a whole four years younger than I am.  How did this happen?

So I’m walking down the seasonal aisle tonight and I hear, ”Jode!  You just gonna walk right past us?”  Why yes, I was, you bearded man I have never seen before in my life with a very beautiful and put-together woman at your side, because the Michael that I know and love is five years old and carries a blankie around with him, and certainly does not have a beautiful and put-together wife.  Or a beard.

Fortunately, I snapped out of it quickly.  ”Oh, hi!” I recovered.  ”You shop at my grocery store – how fun!”  I said.  (Why, oh why, am I still lacking the social graces that one is meant to have by age thirty to resist saying things like this?)  Then we kissed each other on the cheek.  Since when do we do that?

We chatted about their new house, which we knew was just around the corner from us.  We had even slightly changed the course of our weekly walk to church since they made settlement just after Christmas so that we could walk past their house in hopes of stalking them seeing them and inviting them over for lunch.

We chatted about our plans for Easter.   We might see them at Aunt Mary’s on Sunday.  Or we might not.  Part of the reason I haven’t seen Michael recently as often as I did when we were little is that his parents, like mine, ended up divorcing and remarrying.  His wife, Lynn, is in the same boat, so they have four sets of parents to get to at holidays.  I think we shared a moment tonight contemplating just how far reaching the effects of our parents’ decisions have been.

The good news is, though, that they live around the corner now, so there’s no time like the present to get reacquainted with my bearded cousin Michael and his lovely put-together wife Lynn.  Perhaps we shall even see them on Easter.

‘Cause I’m pretty sure they do!

I am so excited about spring this year. I’m not entirely sure why, except maybe it’s just that the novelty still hasn’t worn off of being back in the land of changing seasons after six years in Scotland. To be fair, there are seasons in Scotland. They go like this: cool and rainy, warm and rainy, cool and rainy, cold and rainy. Of course I didn’t mind it while I was there, because the castles more than made up for it. Being able to walk to a castle from the front door of your apartment? Never gets old. Listening to people talk with a Scottish accent every day? Ditto. Totally worth the weather, but I never realized how much I missed seasons until I got home.

Whatever the reason, the girls must have thought I spotted a unicorn in our backyard for how excited I was when I called them over to see these flowers. Ro obligingly spent a good few minutes squatting next to them saying, “That a pretty flower!” about each and every one.  Sweet girl.

How fitting that this new life in our back yard should come now, just as we begin to remember  Christ’s death and resurrection especially this Easter weekend.  Romans 6:4 reminds us that:

“We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.”

Praise the Lord for new life in every form!

Call it peer pressure, but I am officially signed up to walk in the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3 Day on October 17-19. “3 Day” as in three whole days of walking! Sixty miles in total. Can you even imagine??? I’ve done the Cheltenham circular walk around Trevor’s hometown in England, and that’s twenty-six miles. I’ve done it twice I think. Both times, it was awful. If I think about sleeping in a tent after doing that, then waking up the next morning and doing it again… twice… Well, let’s just say if it weren’t for a very good cause, I’m pretty sure I’d be sitting this one out.

So why am I doing this? I’d love to be able to say it’s because I feel passionate about finding a cure for breast cancer. Of course, that would be fantastic. Who wouldn’t want that? My grandmother’s sister is a breast cancer survivor, but I was little or not even born yet when she was diagnosed, so I never really felt the fear that goes along with this frightening illness.

But no, if I’m honest, I’m doing this walk because Mary’s doing it. Mary has been my best friend for 25 years (we just celebrated our silver anniversary), and she has recently lost a ton of weight over a two-year-period (by working her tail off). She’s feeling pretty on top of the world and wants to do this walk because she can. The more she talked about this walk, the more I didn’t want to just sponsor her, I wanted to do it with her.  Her enthusiasm was just contagious. For the first time in a while, she is in great shape, and she wants to give something back. I, however, have had three babies in the last four years and am in pretty much the worst shape I’ve ever been in. Good thing the walk is still seven months away!

I know even as I embark on the mammoth task of raising the required $2200 for this walk, that I will not end this journey the way I’m beginning it.  Although I am starting this as a fun thing to do with my best friend, I know I will end up being touched by this devastating disease and the people who have suffered from it.  And I’ll be sure to let you know about it as that change takes place.

If anyone reading this would like to sponsor me, please drop me an e-mail or a comment and I will send you a copy of the form for making a donation.  I’m almost as daunted by the fundraising as the actual walk (almost!), so, um… please sponsor me?

(Oh, and I almost forgot… the title of this post was an inspired headline that my mom never got to use back in her days of medical journalism. Apparently her editor didn’t have the same eye for her genius as I do.)