{My Prayer Notebook}

Lately I've been trying to come up with a more effective way of managing my prayer life. Perhaps this sounds very dry and rigid to you, but it really helps me to be organized in this way. It keeps my mind and heart focused, and it's always exciting to look back and see how the Lord has worked in my life and in the lives of loved ones.

I've used index cards and notebooks in the past, but I still found it hard to mark progress and remember where certain requests had been jotted down. So yesterday I asked the Lord if He would just bring along a method that would work for me. Of course He did, because He's so very dear like that.

I found a video tutorial through Pinterest that is very practical and "me," and set to work right away to recreate it and morph things a bit to be even more "me." (My version isn't quite so . . . intense.) My initial thought was, "Okay! Off to buy a binder and paper and dividers . . .!" But I realized that sometimes it's best to work with what we already have on hand.

So I looked through our mountains of supplies and finally found a perfect little binder. My mind tried really hard to come up with something easy in the way of dividers, and then it came to me. I already have some! Years ago, my sister made dividers for a home-keeping notebook for me. I've loved it to pieces, but lately found that, because of Pinterest and other online record-keeping methods, I just wasn't using it for that purpose anymore. So I'm in the process of updating them to become prayer dividers.

It was fun to look back through the tabs that once read, "Calendar" or "School" or "Shopping" and think that they will now become "Worship" or "Family" or "Friends" in my prayer life. It was especially funny to find the little post-it note that my sister had attached (ten years ago?) to the "Gifts" section, which I never removed: "The EXTRA LARGE section for the pages and pages titled: KRISTA!" (She likes presents.)

As it works out, that divider lands right where my "Family" divider will now be. So I'll keep her post-it note there, now devoting "pages and pages" to praying for her.

This morning I spent my quiet time copying verses, poems and hymns into the various sections: Worship, Me, Jamie, Kids, Family, Friends and Leaders. I look forward to this new season in my journey with the Lord.

* * * * *

The Lord has been teaching me lately to really dwell on the words of one of my favorite verses. A line of it, in fact, inspired my blog description:

Thou wilt make known to me the path of life; in Thy presence is fullness of joy.

Psalm 16:11 

I've recently been reading the works of Jim Elliot, and find his prayer life to be both humbling and inspiring. When he wrote of this same passage, I was all attention. He was referring to a decision that had to be made in his life and commented, "Yet I still cannot set down reasons for the decision, save this, that the Lord showed the psalmist the path of life, evidently by his simply lingering in His presence."

Oswald Chambers, too, wrote of a similar reality: "The questions that matter in life are remarkably few, and they are all answered by the words -- 'Come unto Me.'"

Spurgeon is succinct: "Dwell much with Him . . ."

And so, through this notebook, my prayer is that I might come, that I might linger, and that I might dwell. Because in His presence is fullness of joy.

{A Guide for the New Year}

The boys' room is just beyond the wall where I stand at the kitchen sink to do the dishes. Frequently I'll hear a little knock, knock at bedtime, a little boy beckoning. He can hear me washing, and he likes the secret communication that we share. I like it, too. Indeed, as Dickens said, "It is no small thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us."

My Little Man unwittingly gave me three tips for how I might show my love for him in return. The other night he tapped his bedtime code. When I finally peeled off my dish gloves and peeked through the bedroom door, he had concocted a plan.

"Okay, Mom. One knock means . . ." And he proceeded to give me the meaning of the one, two and three knock summons. Just so I wouldn't forget, he scribbled the code out on a post-it note for me to display near the kitchen sink:

1. Can you come pray with me?
2. I need that cough medicine
3. C'mere

As I smiled and re-read the note, I became thoughtful of what he was really saying. He was telling me what all children tell their parents in some way or another. They need to be loved spiritually. (Come pray!) They need to be loved physically. (I'm coughing! Fix it, Mama!) They need to be loved emotionally. (Come here. I just need to know that you're available.)

I don't usually make sweeping New Year's resolutions. Sure, I often begin January by rethinking some things and reevaluating how to best navigate a new season of life, but I don't tend to attack the year with lists and formulas. However, I might make an exception this time. I like Aidan's list. It's succinct and powerful. It reminds me that my priorities are right in front of me, asking for spiritual, physical and emotional guidance.

May my ears be in tune this year to the gentle knock that beckons. 


  

When Mama Forgets the Fruit

Bedtime was rushed and frazzled. It's probably the worst time of the day to rush a little person (if indeed there's ever a good time to do it).

Little spirits need nurturing and quiet and peace at the bedtime hour, not a nagging mama who can't wait to close the door on a long day.

But sometimes mamas still nag and fret. Because that minute hand has already passed the hour and precious sleep is being lost and that means a cranky tomorrow morning which means a difficult school day. And who wants that?

So Mama borrows trouble from tomorrow and rushes the prayer with her son. She gets irritated when she's interrupted by another child who storms into the room wondering if shower gel is the same as shampoo. The frustration mounts, Mama forgets Who she's talking to and prematurely cuts off the prayer with a snapped Amen.


The listening boy is still and quiet. That's not how Mama's supposed to pray. He gently whispers the truth, "Mom, you forgot the fruit of the Spirit."

It's true and it hurts. Not only did she forget to pray the fruit over her child, but she grossly forgot to live it before him. And he noticed.

But guess what Mama read just that morning? She read in Numbers 14:18 that "The Lord is slow to anger, abounding in love and forgiving sin and rebellion." And she is so, so thankful.

She tiptoes back to her boy's room and asks for a redo. "Honey? Can I pray with you again?"

His face beams. It's noticeable, even in the darkness. He's more than willing. And this time, Mama doesn't forget the fruit.

A Child's Prayer by Jessie Wilcox Smith

{Day 27} :: Kids to the Rescue

I think I might be coming down with a cold. This is unfortunate. Mothers aren't supposed to get sick. I've even heard that by the time you have four children, your immune system is remarkably strong. I hope so.

I have observed, however, one good thing about slowing down as the sniffles begin: the children rise to the occasion.


So tonight when I hinted that it might be nice if someone could read Avery her bedtime story, Aidan eagerly approached the bookcase. We snuggled on Miss Kate's trundle as he read a Richard Scarry book aloud, and the little one assumed the role of nurturer. She linked her arm through mine, sighed contentedly, and rested her head on my shoulder. Bliss.

When it was time to tuck everyone in, Bethie took on The Prayer. She sweetly began with thanking the Lord for the events of the day, then proceeded to remember as much as she could from the Scripture that I pray over them at night: "I pray that You would grow in us the fruit of Your Spirit . . . and that we would be lights for You . . . that . . . we . . . will dwell in the house of the Lord forever . . . ."

Ahhh, yes. This is just the medicine a mama needs. To know that they're listening, remembering and taking it to heart. To see that they are beginning to understand the power and comfort of God's Word, and to delight in the way that they tend to one another . . . and to their mama.

You know, maybe having a cold isn't so bad, after all.

Read about the thirty-one day challenge over here.

{Day 20} :: The Morning Hour

It is the early morning hours that offer the most peaceful sitting.

Peace again! The exquisite hour before dawn, here at my old desk --
seldom have I realized so keenly, appreciated so fully, these still, dark hours.

{Edward Weston}

These are the hours I need. The quiet hush that embraces the slumbering house causes me to be a better listener. Yes, I listen for the patter of little feet which will eventually descend.

But before that, before that -- I listen to the quiet. I hear the stillness.

I open His Word. I am still. I sit. I listen.

I listen so that when the little feet do descend, I am able to hear more than the clatter and chaos. I hear my children. My children. And I welcome them.


Read about the thirty-one day challenge over here.

Soup

"Oh, Mom . . . can't I just stay home?" I pleaded. School was not my favorite place to hang out as a pre-teen. But I knew that my mother sent me out of love, not as some sort of punishment. This was evidenced not only by a long history of loving actions, but also by the promise of . . . soup. It became our code word. Our secret "I-love-you-more-than-anything-and-will-pray-for-you-today" word.

She gently led me to the door (no doubt assuming that I'd be chasing that bus yet again) and promised to have a steaming pot of my favorite soup waiting when I came home. She cupped my face, kissed my forehead and said, "Soup." Off I went, my school hours filled with reminders of my mother's love.

Last week was a soup week. Not because I made soup (which I did not), but because I needed it. I was grumpy and crabby and not a fun person to be with (even though I did agree to have my face scribbled on). I finally made it to Sunday. Jamie wasn't feeling well, so I took the kids to church. We were late, of course, so I stood along the back wall wondering where to put my sorry self. But God knew right where He wanted me. My sister caught my eye. She and her clan scooted over (even though there wasn't really any room), and I gladly let them enfold me.

I held my niece contentedly on my lap, and our row continued to blossom when Annie caught my eye. She, too, needed a place. The chairs were as full as could be, so she plopped herself down . . . on my purse. (Several chivalrous gentlemen offered their seats. She declined, preferring to hover gracefully over the bulletins.) So there I was, squeezed between this love, thanking God that He wouldn't let me wallow in self.

Thus began another soup week. But this time it was the food kind. I threw together a big pot of Italian sausage soup on Monday evening. As I stirred, I sensed God's love and provision, not only in meeting my physical needs, but my spiritual needs as well. I knew that I was surrounded by the promised prayers of a bulletin-hovering friend and that last week's valleys were only temporary. Those valleys served as points to which I could look back and say, "Thank you, Lord, for your grace. Thank you for keeping hold of me. And thank you for the reminder that I needn't struggle alone."

By piano lesson day, that pot of soup had dwindled to a few lunch portions. So I packed it up and we headed to my parents' house for lessons. The kids took turns at the keyboard and they took turns slurping their soup. When it was time to leave, I noticed that there was just enough soup left for one more person. I popped my head into the piano room. "Mom? Might you enjoy a nice, hot cup of soup on your lunch break?" Her eyes lit up like a school girl. And we both said, "Soup."

I Keep Asking

I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation,
so that you may know Him better.
Ephesians 1:17

Father, may I never cease this asking. Draw my heart to your throne in hourly supplication. Would you bless me with the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, that I may know You.

As I minister to my husband, may it be as a wife who has a spirit of wisdom and revelation, that I may know You. As I train my children, may it be as a mother who has a spirit of wisdom and revelation, that I may know You. As I interact with other women, may it be as a friend who has been blessed with a spirit of wisdom and revelation . . . that I may know You.

I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection . . . (yes, that's the easy part) . . . but I ask for strength to also know the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death . . . . (Philippians 3:10).

Yes, Lord, I keep asking. I keep asking not because You haven't heard. I keep asking not because You have forgotten. But I keep asking because You beckon, because You bless. All praise, honor and glory to You, the One who keeps on giving.