{From the Journal: The Wise Woman Builds}

In my last post I mentioned that I've been working my way through the Psalms and Proverbs this month. It's been quite a feast, I tell you. There is so much going on here.

One of the methods I've used lately in studying my Bible is simple yet meaningful. Although I'm reading through the Bible from beginning to end, my goal this time around has been quality over quantity. In other words, sometimes I read just a chapter or two and really mull it over, and other times I swallow several pages in one gulp. Either way I've feasted and come away feeling satisfied and blessed. 

After I've read, I go back over the verse or verses that really jumped out at me, comparing them in different versions. (I'm currently reading the NIV but refer often to my well worn NAS, which has been marked by my hand since I received it at age twelve.) I then jot that verse down in my journal and the scribbling begins. It's amazing what can come from one verse. I pray over that verse, around that verse, with that verse, through that verse (forgive me -- Aidan and Avery are studying prepositions) and ask the Lord to teach me.

Yesterday I read Proverbs 14, but didn't get very far. In fact the very first line stopped me in my tracks:

The wise woman builds her house . . .

My mind did the pinball thing, and I realized how much was packed into these six words. It was both inspiring and daunting. When I picture a wise woman building her house (and naturally I want to be that wise woman) I think of my dad's days in construction. Building requires a number of things, but this is what I came up with when thinking about how we women can build our own homes.

Walter Langley: Mother Love (As shared over at I Take Joy)

1. Building takes time. Building is a process, not something that just happens. We must continue to nurture our children, to build them up, to train them, to love them . . . forever. This verse is written in the present tense. A wise woman builds. It's an ongoing project.

2. Building takes patience. Because it takes time, and because we (and those for whom we care) are flawed, we need a whole lot of patience to make this thing work. Again, it's an ongoing process.

3. Building takes effort. There's so much emphasis today on "taking care of yourself." Of course I understand that it's wise and necessary to take time to refuel and to make sure that our tank is able to efficiently run. Please do that! But parenting requires sacrifice, too. Years ago I heard a wise, godly woman in our church break mothering down into the simplest terms: "It's my life or theirs." Daily we have to choose, which isn't always easy. However, we have the comfort and example of knowing what our Lord chose while He walked this earth. Thank God He did -- and His spirit ministers to us as we, too, make little (and big) sacrifices throughout our day.

4. Building is most successful when the builder follows a blueprint. You'll forgive the obvious analogy, but unless the Lord is building our house, dear mothers, we are laboring in vain. His Word is our infallible blueprint and it contains all we need for life and godliness. We don't need scores of parenting books, we need wisdom. God's Word and Spirit are ready to provide it to willing hearts and ready hands.

5. Building is rewarding. Building is exciting because we can see things take shape right in front of our eyes. We can see our plans coming to fruition and, if we've received them from the Lord, they will turn out so much more beautifully than we expected. Again, it takes time and patience, but the shaping does happen. 

When my children were learning to speak, we used simple sign language to help them communicate their basic needs. One of the first phrases they learned to sign was thank you. (I see gratitude as an essential need!) It was so cute to see their little hands extend from their mouth forward as they attempted to say thank you through out the day. They all caught on pretty well, but even after they had the speaking part down pat I realized that little people still needed to be reminded to express gratitude to others. It seemed as though I was forever gesturing to them with my own signs, reminding them to say thank you. 

But I know now that that's a part of the patience required in building. The teaching and building is continual. It takes time to teach not only the "signs" our children need to use throughout their lives, but it also takes time to teach them when and how and that they must do so with perseverance. 

A few years ago we were at the beach, and Aidan was digging a hole with a pathetic little plastic shovel. He wasn't making much progress, and a man nearby offered the use of his metal shovel. I caught Aidan's eye and made the quick sign for thanks as a reminder to him, and he immediately turned to the man and said, "Thank you!" 

At first I found myself wishing that he had thought to say it on his own, but then I realized that we were building together. It became a beautiful moment where I was seeing firsthand the rewards of our work: He knew to look to me for guidance, he understood my hasty sign, he responded right away and was blessed because of it.

And so we mamas continue to build our homes. It can be hard, sweaty work that requires lots of hours and tears, and sometimes we'll see days go by with little reward. But if we keep the blueprint before us, we'll know that we're right where we're supposed to be, doing exactly what we're supposed to be doing. Our homes will grow and take shape, and we'll marvel at how the Lord delights in using a mama's willing hands to accomplish His glorious work.

{How to Be Perfect}

There was much racing and shouting followed by the inevitable, "Last one there is a rotten egg!"  I have no idea what game they were playing, but it was loud.

Miss Kate was soon calling the shots, and the taunt quickly took an unexpected turn. Upon realizing that she would be the "last one there," she blurted out, "Last one there is . . . perfect!"

And that sealed the fate of her siblings. She was the perfect one.

I laughed and scribbled yet another Avery quote in my journal.

The more I think about it, though, the more I realize how right she actually is.

The concept is certainly not new. If you've flipped through the New Testament lately, you'll see that it's a rather prominent topic. Prominent and, at times, hard to swallow.

The last shall be first. 

The greatest among you shall be your servant.

Humble yourself as a child.  

Deny yourself.

The greatest example of this is Jesus Christ. He proved that the last One, the true Servant, is the perfect One. The One who served until death. The One who even begged His Father for a way out . . . but only if it was the best way.

Turns out it wasn't the best way. The best way was straight through hell. So he went.

He sacrificed all. Putting the greatest need of humanity before his own rights, He became last. And in so doing, He was raised victorious. He conquered all. And remained perfect. 

Perfectly obedient, perfectly good, perfectly wise, perfectly God.

We, His creatures, frequently don't know what to do with this. We don't like to be last. It's not in our nature to serve. (Or if we do serve, it's hard to do so with the purest humility.) This service system is counter-intuitive and, frankly, a bit too risky. We might lose something. Or not be noticed. Heaven forbid.

As I find my children growing older and more capable, I realize that the opportunities for service in my home are changing. I have to consciously remind myself to continue to cultivate the heart of a servant. They don't need my help in the bathroom anymore. (Glory be.) They don't need help getting ready for bed or getting dressed.

So I no longer serve by the daily dressing and bathing of my children. Tasks which, at one time, I thought would never end.

Lately, I've even been able to walk away from the school room to attend to other responsibilities, knowing that (at least for a time) they will stay focused on their work. It is quite likely that I could sit with a cup of tea and read all day long and they would be just fine. (Messy, but fine.) These people are gaining independence, and they like it.

I like it, too. But it puts me in a new position of awareness. Because it is crucial that they still learn how to serve. How to be last.

I have a chicken roasting in the oven. As soon as my children became aware of the menu, certain members immediately started arguing over the drumsticks. Hot commodities, those puppies. Yes, they still need to learn. Deny yourself.

This means that now, more than ever, I need to model service. These children still need to see their mama in action. They need to see that the only way through this game is by choosing to be last. By thinking of others. By serving, serving, serving.

It's so unnatural. But it's not impossible. We have a perfect example. And He loves us. He desires us.

Which means that now, more than ever, I need to be spending my time with Him. In Him. Abiding. I need to listen to the rhythm of His heart which beats with passionate love for His children. I need to bathe my thoughts in His Word and really learn the rules of this game.

Not because I want to win, but because He already has. I want to live in His victory.

It's true that I'm still a bit of a rotten egg -- at least for now. I kind of stink at this whole serving thing. But I'm continuing to train under the best. And I do believe there's hope for me yet.

{Day 18} :: Offering

"Mommy? My tummy hurts." My bleary eyes try to focus in the midnight darkness. I pull the sheets aside and let the little one climb in. She melts back into slumber. It's a fitful slumber, so I eventually bring her back to her own bed. A glance at the clock tells me it's almost time to get up anyway. I sigh and pad downstairs to put the kettle on.

My eyes continue to adjust to the breaking dawn. By the time my tea is ready, I'm able to focus. I open to the Old Testament. I'm in Leviticus. My mind is trying to make sense of the offerings and sacrifices and regulations, the anointing and consecration and presentation.

It seems old and foreign and strange. I don't know where it fits. What do I do with it?

And then I come to Leviticus 6:12-13.

The fire on the altar must be kept burning; it must not go out. Every morning the priest is to add firewood and arrange the burnt offering . . . . The fire must be kept burning on the altar continuously; it must not go out.

One thing is clear. The fire must not go out. It must not. And how does the fire remain? Every morning, fuel must be added. It must be tended, that it may remain throughout the night and continue right on through the morning.

Throughout the long nights that bring a little one to the bedside, throughout the mornings that require extra energy to greet the sunrise.

When the fire is tended, there is warmth, there is vitality, there is life.

When the fire is tended, mama can tend.

She can sit, she can focus. She can live a life of simple beauty. She can be still.

And this is her offering.