Looking Forward

(I originally wrote this in August, 2007, but I wanted to post it today.)

A couple days ago, I was driving down Bishop Grandin (speed limit, 80 km/hour) and suddenly felt the urge to drive only while looking in my rearview mirror. So, I prudently waited until there was no traffic ahead of me, and tried it out. Here is what I discovered:

1) It is very hard to stay on course.

2) It is a highly stressful thing to do.

3) If there had been any obstacles ahead of me, I would have crashed, whereas if I was looking ahead, I could have easily avoided them.

4) If you keep it up without looking ahead for a long time and realize you are going off course, you start to steer the exact opposite way that you are supposed to when you try to get back in the right lane.

5) Without conscious effort, I slowed down considerably.

Do I need to explain the analogy? Naaaahhh. I think we get the point.

Let's keep looking ahead!!

He is Bigger!

Every Sunday morning when I was young, I was jolted awake by a pounding beat and screaming guitar. Well, maybe twanging guitar is a better description. It was my Dad listening to his Southern Gospel music, which truly drove me nuts. I could never figure out why he would not even let my sister and I turn up our little Ghetto Blasters during civilized hours, whereas he could crank up the big sound system with four gigantic speakers at 7:00 a.m.

SEVEN O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING!!

And what really got to me is that, fully against my will, my toes would start tapping. First they would start to twitch. I would tell them, “Listen, toes, I can't stand this music and it just woke me up out of a wonderful, sound sleep.” But soon they were tapping to the rhythm and my head would start bobbing. This was really a problem because I am of Mennonite descent. Dancing was strictly prohibited and I was worried that this could be classified as dancing in some people’s books.

All these years, I have kept this secret well-hidden. No, not the "dancing"... My enjoyment of Southern Gospel music! Dad, despite my incessant complaining about your music, it is time to tell you that I am a Closet-Quartet-Liker. There. It’s out there. Ahhh… It feels good to just say it.

There is one song that I clearly recall and lately I have been tapping my toes to its rhythm that still reverberates through my head. It goes like this:

“Bigger than all my problems, Bigger than all my fears
God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see
Bigger than all my questions, Bigger than anything
My God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see

Bigger than all the shadows that fall across my back
God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see
Bigger than all confusion, Bigger than anything
My God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see

Bigger than all the giants, fear and unbelief
God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see
Bigger than all my hangups, Bigger than anything
My God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see”

Boys in a Box

Being an extremely over-protective homeschooling parent, it may surprise you that for about a year now I have been pondering the idea of putting my kids into school. Actually, “pondering” may not be the appropriate word. Wrestling. Contending. Crying out to the Lord in a distressed manner. Yes—that’s more like it.

Last year, I heard the Lord tell me that we should put the boys in school next year and I could not put it out of my mind. It wasn’t like, “Hmmm… I wonder if we should put the kids in school?” It was the clear voice of God unequivocally speaking to me—the kind of voice that makes a person stand up, salute and say “YES SIR!” So, despite my fears and hesitations, and maybe because I know I must conquer them, I forged ahead in my quest to find peace about sending my little innocent babes to the big world out-of-sight of their ever-looming mother. I mentioned it to my husband a few times, but he was not really for the idea and since I was so hesitant, I didn’t mind a bit. Hubby says, “no”. That’s a good reason to keep them home!

This September, at the beginning of our homeschooling year, the issue rose up again. Loudly. God would not leave me alone. I MUST put the kids in school next year. I finally came to a place of being at peace about it. AHHHHHH. Now I can finally let them go.

Then it happened. The glitch in the system. (Or so I thought.) My husband would not have any of it. “Absolutely, positively NO WAY are we putting the kids in school next year. I won’t even pray about it because I already know we’re not supposed to. Don’t even ask about it again. If God wants us to put the kids in school, I will have to hear the audible voice of God Himself.”

YIKES!!!! Now what???? I couldn’t sleep for a couple of weeks. Was I not hearing from God? Even more disturbing than that, could it be that Jimmy was not hearing from God?? (He has a pretty good track record on matters of importance, and I have learned to trust his judgment.) So, I spent my nights questioning my ability to hear from God, and begging the Lord to show Jimmy what to do, and that I will have peace about whatever he decides.

Two weeks later, Jimmy had a dream…

He was in an operating room where a doctor was doing heart surgery on two boys. When their chests were opened, Jimmy grabbed the boys’ hearts, put them in a box and ran off with them. He wanted to preserve them. He wanted to keep those two little boys’ hearts safe from harm and close to his heart in the little box he had made for them. But of course those precious hearts could not thrive in a box. They began to die…

And Jimmy woke up. And he knew. He knew that we could not keep our little boys in a box any longer. We had to let them go. We had to release them to the Father who will not only protect them better than we can, but also release them to reach their God-given destiny.
God’s timing is wonderful. He is teaching me to trust Him… When the time is right, He will speak. I can trust Him to speak to Jimmy. I can trust Him with our children. But more than that, we are learning that God’s hands are always carrying, but never crushing.

Yes, our kids are going to be put into a “real” school next year… I get to keep them home one more year, and I mean to make the most of it!

The Tree

From down the street, over the barbed-wire fence and across the field it beckoned to me. Its branches swaying in the wind appeared to be waving to me like a long-lost friend. It was The Tree.

I was seven years old and our family had just moved from the forest-laden north to the bald prairies of southern Saskatchewan. The tallest plant that I had spotted before The Tree was a tumbleweed! Needless to say, I just HAD to go climb that tree. So, I walked down the street (beyond the limits my parents had set), scooted under the barbed-wire fence (with only a minor tear to the seat of my pants) and ran at top-speed to The Tree (to avoid detection of my mother's watchful eye).

I climbed that tree like a monkey to the top branches. To my seven year old soul, it felt like a little taste of heaven. I swayed with the wind, all alone but not at all lonely. I looked all around me, and there were no other trees to be seen. There was, however, a clump of low-lying bushes far off in the distance that looked fun to explore. I scampered down the tree, but when I got to the ground the bushes were no longer visible. Not deterred, I began walking in the general direction of the bushes and after considerable time I found them. From there I saw, much further away, more scrub brush (a term used by Canadian prairie-dwellin' folk to describe the prickly, half-dead bushes that grow in the dry prairies). I went to explore. And so it went, from field to field, from bushes to bushes. Eventually, my sense of adventure began to fade, and I realized that not only was I alone... I was also beginning to feel a little bit lonely. And hungry - the rumblings in my stomach indicated that it was well past lunch time. I HAD to get home.

Suddenly, what had been a fun and exciting excursion became the stuff of nightmares as I turned around to run home and saw TWO different clumps of bushes in slightly different directions. From which had I come? Now, I was not only lonely, but very, very afraid.

I wandered for hours, crying and screaming, until I eventually saw The Tree. Its branches looked like they were reaching out to embrace me, and I felt very much like the prodigal son returning home. I only hoped that my parents were going to be as welcoming!
It was late in the evening when I walked through the door of my house to meet a pair of very upset parents and a handful of concerned neighbours who had been searching for me for most of the day.

Well I must admit that, unlike the prodigal son, I received neither a fatted calf nor a new robe. Instead, I was thoroughly disciplined, fed a healthy supper, and tucked into bed with a hug and a kiss. My bed had never before felt so cozy and comfortable. It was good to be home!

As I grew up from being a child tempted by the lure of a tree, to a woman surrounded by the enticing facade that one is constantly bombarded with, the Lord has often reminded me of The Tree. It was a good lesson learned: It is better to stay on the right path in the first place than to painfully search for the way back and have to deal with the consequences.

My Blankie

When the thunder roars

And I'm tucked in bed,

I just grab my blankie

And I cover my head.

When I'm scared of the dark

And I'm all alone,

I just snuggle my blankie

And I let out a moan.

I can't figure out why -

Though my white-knuckled fingers

Are grasping my blankie,

The terror still lingers.

And then I remember

What my Mommie said;

"Just talk to the Lord

When you're scared in your bed."

I lower my blankie

To stick out my eyes,

Saying, "I know You're there, God

And You hear my cries."

I stick out my head...

Now it's down to my neck.

But I hold blankie close

To keep monsters in check.

"Please keep me safe, Lord

Though faith I may lack -

This blankie won't help much

In case of attack."

As morning draws closer

And I'm still alive,

I'm happy to see

One more night I've survived.

No thanks to my blankie

Though it kept me warm.

It was the covering of God

That kept me from harm.

Swimming Lessons

I am a homeschooling mom. People homeschool their children for many and various reasons. Some want to provide their children with a rich, natural environment to encourage a love of learning and don't want to stifle their kids' creativity in the rigid structure of the school system. Some parents know about the benefits of one-on-one tutoring and have chosen homeschooling to pursue that method of instruction. Many parents don't agree with much of the public school curriculum and want to teach their children in a faith-based setting. These reasons are very good and all of them were factored into our decision to homeschool. However, my primary reason to homeschool my children is because I am the most over-protective parent I have ever met and am unwilling to let my children out of my sight. When I insist on holding my almost 6 and 7 year old's hands when walking across the street even though they know full-well not to run off into traffic and someone tells me, "You know... You're not still going to be doing that when they're 18", I am quick to retort, "And WHY NOT??"

This over-protective nature of mine was glaring today when I took my children to swimming lessons. I brought some cross-stitching to work on while my kids were learning to swim. However, I did not sew a single stitch... I was too busy clutching the fabric in my hands and wringing it like an old dish rag while ensuring my children were still afloat in the pool. A woman came and sat next to me and attempted to strike up a conversation. She was also a homeschooling mom. I don't think her reason for homeschooling was the same as mine. I could tell because she was able to carry on a coherent conversation despite the fact that her four year old was flailing in the deep end. I couldn't. In fact, at one point I forgot to respond to one of her comments, which I realized when I suddenly and uncomfortably felt her gaze on me. "Oh! I'm sorry", I said, "I couldn't talk because I was watching my kids. Heh, heh, heh." A little later, I couldn't see my five year old. But I stayed calm... Well, sort of. I did not leap over the bleachers, jump the balcony and dive in to save my young one. No. However, without giving it a thought, I did grab the hand of this lady sitting next to me (I would tell you her name, but I don't know it). I did not let go. I hung on like she was a life preserver and desperately gasped for air, as I could only hope my son was doing at that point. "Where's my baby??", I cried in anguish. The lady attempted to pry her hand away from mine and said, "Baby? I thought you had five and six year olds. They are standing with their class next to the life jackets over there." I tried to discreetly remove my hand from hers. "Oh... heh, heh, heh. Thanks..."

Despite this little setback today, I know that God has been working on my heart in this area. He is showing me that clutching my precious children so tightly is not helping them, it is holding them back. He is so much more able to take care of them than I am. His loving arms are the safest place to be, and it is my job as a parent to teach them His ways and point them to the Father who will never leave them but who will empower them to reach their potential. Like a small child who doesn't realize they are damaging a butterfly by holding on to its wings, I can do no good for my kids if I don't release them from my closed fist.

Lord, forgive me for not trusting You. Please continue the good work You have begun in me. I release my children into Your hands, knowing that You intend only good for them, and that you will protect them according to Psalm 91.

Psalm 91
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust."
Surely He will save you from the fowler's snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with His feathers,
and under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
If you make the Most High your dwelling -
even the Lord, who is my refuge -
then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For He will command His angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
"Because he love Me," says the Lord, "I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honour him.
With long life will I satisfy him
and show him My salvation."