Raising the Bar

My middle child Matthias wanted to be a lawyer ever since joining debate club at age 11. He became a member of Charlotte Teen Court as an "attorney" as soon as he was old enough to be allowed to do so. He worked hard in school, and then want on to become a top student in law school. He sacrificed a great deal working towards his dream. He never wavered in his desire, and he kept plugging through some very deep disappointments. He never gave up, though there were many times I thought surely the many obstacles, setbacks, or failures might finally do him in. 

An abysmal economy hit during his years in law school. A very small percentage of his fellow students were extended summer internships or job prospects. In prior years, most law students would have paid internships and job offers at the end of their first year. By the time he graduated, he had still not received a job offer.

Dismayed, but refusing to give up, he continued applying. And then he got an interview with a major firm that had turned him down his first year as a law student. It was the firm in Virginia he had most wanted to work for. He didn't want to get his hopes up because there had been so many disappointments. It was a miraculous, joyful day when they hired him. All that was left was to pass the bar exam.

Students take the Bar in early summer. They don't find out if they passed until late October. He began working at the wonderful law firm, but of course, he had to pass the bar exam. 

Yesterday, I got a text message from my remarkable, hard working, never-giving-up son:

He passed the bar on his first try.

It is so easy to throw in the towel, especially when confronted with failure after failure. It is so easy to blame others, or to blame God when the world seems to be against us. It is much harder to keep trying, keep praying, keep hoping, keep persevering.

I write this with tears in my eyes, filled with love and pride and joy for my wonderful son, a man of God who exemplifies perseverance. I feel a little bit more able to tackle the day thinking of his example. In things of God, we will often be ridiculed, and discouraged by an increasingly anti-God society. We are often deceived that lowering our standards, lowering the bar of moral dictates or Godly behavior is what we need to do to reach the world. It is a lie, and one we should not succumb to. All of us are called to persevere in our walk with God as much as we our able, and in the end, we will be rewarded. Jesus set the bar, not us, and He wants us to pass over it even more than we do.

**********

For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. (2 Peter 1:5-8 NIV)

This day I will be better

Every single morning I pray that this day I will be completely patient, loving, gentle, kind, an excellent teacher to my delightful daughter. I pray every single morning that this day, I will glorify God in every interaction, and will reflect all the character that I want my dear children to see and adopt. And every single morning, by 10:00 latest, I blow it. 

So a couple of days ago, following my daily 'empower me to be better' prayer, Asherel and I settled down for our history lesson. I was determined that this day, I would not lose patience, or lose heart, or be irritated. This day, I had a plan. I would offer only reward based education. I would show no disappointment no matter what answers I received to the simple questions I posed during our history hour. Asherel is a very smart kid, and so my expectations are high. We are working our way through the forming of the US, and had just started on the writing of the constitution.

"I want you to memorize the preamble by Friday."
Why?"
I took a deep cleansing breath.
"If you memorize the preamble by Friday, I will give you a bag of Skittles."
Now, I know what you are thinking. This bribery system is not only abhorrent, but will never work. I totally agree. It was a foolish thing to do, and I should have known better. I should have offered Gummy Worms.
"No thanks," she said.
"Ok," I said, with barely constrained fury, "We scrap the carrot, and go to the stick. If you don't memorize the preamble by Friday...."
"Ok, I will memorize it," she said quickly,"...but why do I need to memorize it when I can just look it up on my iPod?"
"You won't be allowed to bring your iPod into the SAT test, and besides, this is the most important document in our nation, if not the world. The whole stage of what is to come is laid out in the Preamble. If you have that knowledge at your finger tips, you will be able to understand, intelligently discuss, and defend the major tenets of the foundation of our country and why it is great!"
I think I lost her as soon as I said the iPod wouldn't be allowed in the SAT test. She was already mourning the 2 hours she would be "off the grid", disconnected.

We repeated the Preamble, and discussed its meaning, and then began reading the constitution. When I hit the bit about the electors and how our president is elected, we had to quit for the day. We had to quit because I know some states don't apportion the electors' votes the way it says they are supposed to in the constitution and I have no idea how they can do that. (Am I misreading or can someone explain that quickly before today?)

Meanwhile, we moved on to a discussion of Benjamin Franklin. "Benjamin was taught for a few years at home, " I read, "But that was enough to get him started. He continued to read every book he could get his hands on and became knowledgeable in math, science, philosophy, history...."
I paused and looked pointedly at Asherel.
"What?" she said.
"First of all, what form of education did Ben have?"
"He was home schooled."
"Correct. And notice what it says.... he read voraciously every book he could get his hands on...on his own. His parents got him started, but then his intellectual curiosity and delight took over. In the end, Benjamin Franklin became regarded as one of the most accomplished, well read, and influential figures of the 18th century."
I did not add that I would bet the mortgage his parents never had to bribe him with gummy worms.
"And your point is....?" said Asherel.

Before I go any further, I must say that Asherel is an incredible and wonderful kid. We are both struggling with an overfull schedule this year, but don't know how to cut back, as everything we are doing seems critical. We could cut out horseback, guitar, art, dog agility training, and fun...but that just doesn't seem wise either. So our days are long, and at times, she balks at the load. I am hoping things will settle as we adjust to the new school year. However, there is a low level panic ready to erupt at any moment, and hence the need for daily prayer and if that fails, bribes.

But it is refreshing to read about people like Benjamin Franklin or really any of the early leaders of our country. They were such self motivated, patriotic, Godly, and well rounded characters, by and large. Of course they had their issues that they struggled with. We all do. But the thread of common traits that weave these great people together are: strong work ethic, determined, persevering, self improvement, Godly, moral, sense of destiny and purpose above and beyond their own selfish desires.

Ben Franklin, famously quoted at age 80 during the Constitutional Convention, attempted to convince the delegates that daily prayer was critical, as it was in the days prior to the Revolution. He said:
'' ...we had daily prayers in this room. Do we imagine we no longer need assistance?
I have lived now a long time, and the longer I live the more convincing proofs I see of this truth, that God rules in the affairs of men."

So, once again, like Ben Franklin, I bow my head, and pray that this day, I will be better.

2 Chronicles 6: 39-40
³⁹ then from heaven, your dwelling place, hear their prayer and their pleas, and uphold their cause. And forgive your people, who have sinned against you.  ⁴⁰ “Now, my God, may your eyes be open and your ears attentive to the prayers offered in this place.

Piles

But it was free!
I gazed morosely out the front door window.
The pile of wood chips sat for day #2 in our front yard. Right next to the property line of the new neighbor. A huge pile. Like a mountain. A mountain of work that I was told I should not touch. There were big plans for this pile, beyond the capabilities of a mere woman. A man in a truck had driven by and offered to dump this pile on our lawn for free! And now it sat, mocking me.


After a day of biting my tongue, I asked the One who had allowed the free pile to enter our domain, "Where shall I spread the pile?"
"I will get to it today," said the One, "Please don't touch the pile."
The moon shone bright on the free pile that night.
The next day, every time I passed the front door, the free pile was grinning at me. The pile and I both knew that piles, no matter how large, tend to fade from consciousness the more days they sit there.

We all have them. Sometimes they are physical piles- laundry, dishes, papers to grade, books to read, unfinished projects of Sargent Pepper Lonely Heart Club band jackets made of duct tape that cost Mothers a pretty penny piled hopefully in the closet, homework, dust, clothes that don't fit anymore. Sometimes they are mental piles- the daily practice that has not occurred in over a week, the bookstores to call to talk into stocking a book, the political candidate credentials to read in order to make an informed vote, the volunteer opportunities lined neatly up in the back of our heads, the kindness, potential good deeds, and patience stored away that one day will be retrieved...Sometimes they are spiritual piles- the bible verses to commit to memory some day soon, the daily reading of God's word and encouragement, the daily alone time for meditation and prayer.


Risking wrath at 4:00, I went to the One who had promised the free pile would be spread after lunch.
"About that pile...the one I am not allowed to touch...I can abide by that for one more day. But after that, I don't think I will have the will power to resist anymore."
The One had the good grace to chuckle, and I noticed a few minutes later, was working on the free pile.


Brother John sent photos of his street, with the flooded homes now emerged from the water. On the front lawns were piles and piles of a lifetime of possessions. Ruined possessions.
One neighbor wrote, "I hope they take that pile away soon. I can't bear to see twenty years of my life ruined on my lawn."


I called a bookstore in the flood zone of Binghamton, the town beside my brothers. There would be no bookstores open yet in my brother's flooded town...if there were ever any bookstores to open again in my brother's flooded town.
"I am an author who lived most of my life there," I told the bookstore owner, "I was wondering if I could stock my books with you and donate a portion of the sales to the flood relief. If there are any sales...."
With my husband still unemployed, I can't do a whole lot more. Nonetheless, the book store owner was grateful and would add my book to her pile of inventory. A good pile, I hope. A pile with promise that would disappear perhaps more rapidly than our free pile steaming now like a pile of compost.


So, with the pile staring at me all day, I had piles on my mind. I have learned that God works through visual images, through symbols, not only in Biblical times, but in my life today. A word study of "piles" in the Bible is very interesting. There are basically two kinds of piles- piles of rubble and destruction from an angry fed up God, and piles of remembrance of the miraculous salvation of God. Sin, redemption. Destruction, Salvation. Rubble, Remembrance. I lay in bed this morning thinking of what kind of character I was piling up, day after day. Which kind of pile will I be...one that people would desire to have carted away as quickly as possible, or one that would be remembered with fondness, with love? I better get working on the pile I want to be, I thought, glancing out at the free pile of wood chips in the front yard.

Leviticus 26:30-31
³⁰ I will destroy your high places, cut down your incense altars and pile your dead bodies on the lifeless forms of your idols, and I will abhor you. ³¹ I will turn your cities into ruins and lay waste your sanctuaries, and I will take no delight in the pleasing aroma of your offerings. 

Genesis 31:44-46, 48
⁴⁴ Come now, let’s make a covenant, you and I, and let it serve as a witness between us.”  ⁴⁵ So Jacob took a stone and set it up as a pillar. ⁴⁶ He said to his relatives, “Gather some stones.” So they took stones and piled them in a heap, and they ate there by the heap.^..
 48 Laban said, “This heap is a witness between you and me today.” ... “May the LORD keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other. 

2 Chronicles 31:5-6

⁵ As soon as the order went out, the Israelites generously gave the firstfruits of their grain, new wine, olive oil and honey and all that the fields produced. They brought a great amount, a tithe of everything. ⁶ The people of Israel and Judah who lived in the towns of Judah also brought a tithe of their herds and flocks and a tithe of the holy things dedicated to the LORD their God, and they piled them in heaps.

Futility

So I lied. I wasn't done with the wedding painting like I proclaimed a mere two days ago. I kept looking at the painting of my son and his soon to be wife, and I couldn't stand it any more. I know I insisted I was done, but it just doesn't quite look right. I had to go in and change it....again.

"Your soul sucking painting?" Amy asked me later when I called to see how she was recuperating from her nasty bout of pancreatitis.
"Yes, that one."
"Send me just Matt's head and let me see if I can help," asked Amy.
So I sent her Matt's head, not on a platter, but on gmail.

She sent back a photoshopped correction of what she felt was wrong. She lengthened the nose, dipped the upper lip, and squared the chin....the very changes Asherel told me to paint out last week. I am beginning to feel like a yo yo.

I even incorporated math into the process. I measured the distance between all Matt's features and then set up a ratio/algebraic equation to discern if my painting ratios matched. I found one measurement off by 1 cm., corrected that, and felt it did help. I may not be much of an artist, but I was pretty self-impressed by my math skills.

If I had another year....I think I could do it. But I only have two days. Then we are off to a Beatles tribute concert and then to go take care of recuperating sister Amy. Then it is wedding time.

Now I wish I hadn't made fun of all those portrait artists that use projectors to trace their subjects from a photo. At this point, I would be sorely tempted to cheat that way. It's like how I chastised my mom for all those years for dying her hair. Now that I am old and grey....if I hadn't made so much sport of her maybe I would become a blond and see if I had more fun. Smugness has a way of rebounding onto oneself.

And I must say, I have a whole new respect for God's skill in making each of us look exactly the way we are supposed to. It is much harder than you would think.

Karissa, the lovely bride to be, is nothing but grace and kindness. They will love the painting, she writes, because it was made by me. It is very sweet of her, and I almost want to paint a mustache on both of them just to see how far that sentiment could survive.

"Does it look like Matt?" I asked husband, Arvo.
"Do you have a picture of him?" he asked.
I didn't say what was in my mind, which was, "It is your son....remember him?"
I showed him a picture, which he scrutinized. He gave some good and thankfully simple advice. I agreed with those observations, mostly because I could do them without totally repainting any feature. I have noticed that my receptivity to any advice on the painting is in direct proportion to how easily I can incorporate the changes.

I have reached this point of total frustration in my art many times. Sometimes, I let the bitter defeatism take over and I take a glob of black paint and paint over my struggle with frantic, vicious strokes.( This might be that "lack of maturity" the art gallery owner who rejected my work was referring to.) I have had to leave the room to prevent this from happening to this year long labor of love. Funny how anyone looking at the final result would never suspect it took me a year to get even this far. They can't see the layers and layers and layers of failure underneath the current layer.

Again, I knew God was painting me a message. To many people, I think I appear to be at least on the fringe of respectable normalcy. I mostly can get through each day without causing too much damage to myself or others. But there are layers and layers and layers of failure underneath the surface....and the surface is still not what it should be.

I guess if it were, I wouldn't recognize my need for God. Perhaps all that failure is a blessing. Success never seems to bring me quite so desperately to His side, begging Him to take my brush and guide my hand.

Two days aren't enough....but it is all I have. So I better stop writing and make the most of my time.

Job 7:3
³ so I have been allotted months of futility,
   and nights of misery have been assigned to me.

Daniel 12:13
  ¹³ “As for you, go your way till the end. You will rest, and then at the end of the days you will rise to receive your allotted inheritance.”

Fiery Ordeals

One side of mouth:
"It has been a long time of a lot of work. I will be glad when it is over."
Other side of mouth:
"I'm sad it is ending."

These two statements came barely 24 hours apart, from the same 13 year old daughter over the same Science Olympiad work that ends this weekend with the State competition. Despair and delight. They are sometimes kissing cousins.


"I thought you were glad it is ending. I thought you were weary of all the work," I said.
"Well I am, but I will miss it too."
"We will make a point of seeing all your friends over the summer. We can take them kayaking."
She nodded.

But it isn't the same, even something as wonderful as kayaking. It is not the same as struggling together through what seem like insurmountable problems in areas  in which one has no knowledge or experience. It isn't the same, even something so beautiful and relaxing as kayaking through a shady inlet, as watching helicopter after helicopter smash to smithereens and stretching one's brain to understand how the design should be altered in an area that a few months ago, that brain would not have dared to travel. It isn't the same as being a team member, rebuilding a flinging machine week after week with hopes that the projectile will be flung forwards, not backwards....and then finally achieving success only to have the flinging arm break.

It isn't the same, peacefully lounging in the sun with the waves lapping against the hull, as crying one's eyes out because after 5 hours of painstaking work, the fragile structure breaks, and one must begin all over again. It isn't the same, exploring sun dappled coves with fragrant red flowers never seen before lining the shore while the kayak dips and bobs on gentle swells backwashed from the encounter with land, as lifting one's hand to release something you have crafted together and watching it soar to the peak of a glass ceiling where clouds and hawks circle just beyond. It isn't the same as firing a trebuchet, a word that was unknown to you just 9 months ago, a trebuchet you designed and built together and managed to erect without losing a single important body part, and then watching that trebuchet finally fling the projectile the full length of the driveway.

Resting from work is good....but it isn't the same as working beyond what you ever dreamed you could do, bearing struggles you felt were going to kill you, and coming out on the other side victorious.

Our Bible study was from 1 Peter 4. We spent the whole time discussing why the term "fiery ordeal" was used to describe the trials we should expect in our life walking with God. Why not just a less frightening term like "difficulties" or "struggles"? Who wants to know ahead of time that it will be a "fiery ordeal?" Given the choice, which of us would say wholeheartedly, "Send me into the furnace and burn me alive that I might emerge (if I emerge) stronger and purer?" I honestly believe I love God, however imperfectly, but personally, I think I could do without that fiery ordeal.

But to a small degree, that is what my Science Olympiad teams endured. It wasn't their health that was enduring anguish, but their time, their energy, their ability to persevere in a task that seemed impossible to accomplish, their working together withholding blame and acrimony when things went badly, and being generous in their praise and encouragement to the other when things went well. They may not have been vocally proclaiming Christ and suffering for their faith, but they were proclaiming him in character, as they struggled together through some very frustrating and desperate moments together. It would have been easy to give up, to scream, to be ugly and unkind....but they never were. All this for a 13 year old is a fiery ordeal of sorts. And now they are out of the furnace, and how funny that they will miss the heat.

1 Peter 4: 11-13
 ¹² Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. ¹³ But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.

The Veil

I have been working on the wedding portrait for about 9 months now. That is 8 months and 27 days longer than I have worked on any painting. There are periods of many weeks when I turn the portrait to the wall so that I can look at it with fresh eyes when I turn it back. Otherwise, I reach a point where I just see what I want to see so I can be done with it. I knew I was doomed when I took on this project. I am not a portrait artist and while what I paint will indeed appear human, I am pretty sure my son and daughter in law are hoping for something a tad beyond that minimum standard.

I have never seen a portrait of someone I know that looks just like them. Unless of course the artist cheats. That means they project an image on the canvas from a photograph. Of course the portrait looks photographic then. In essence, it is! In my eyes, that is paint by number, and I have no interest in that. I would rather send my beloveds a portrait that has a vague resemblance, a shared genome at least to their dear faces that truly developed from my hand. However, I know that it is highly unlikely that they will see the painting and feel like they are looking in a mirror. The best I can hope for it is that someday it will grow to resemble them.

That does happen. My mom  had a portrait of her painted when she was in her twenties. I remember as a chlld thinking it looked nothing like her. But now when I look at it, I see my mom. I see gentleness, intelligence, and patience, and quiet optimism in tender grey eyes, sparkling with the dreams and hopes of the children she peacefully ushered into the world. I see strength and dignity, and kindness. It is a wonderful portrait. If I could make my wedding portrait of my son and new daughter gleam with that kind of soul, I will be satisfied.

Yesterday, I got the photograph of Karissa's veil. I nag her every few weeks for some other piece of the wedding paraphernalia so I can paint it in.
"Karissa, what earrings will you be wearing?"
"Can I let you know after I get the wedding dress?"
"Oh....well ok. You only have a year to go. I suggest you hop on it!  Well ok, if you haven't settled on the earrings, how about the color of your lipstick?"
When I can judge from her reply that she may not marry my son if I send one more email, I back off. With now just 2 months to go til the wedding, I feel justified in asking for details.
"Forget studying for your stupid college finals, Karissa. What color ribbon will be on your flowers.... and what side of the tux will Matt's boutonniere be on?"
So using such grace and tact, I got the picture of the veil and then stood at my canvas  trembling. If I mess up the veil, all the beautiful painstaking background around 2/3rds of her body will also need to be redone. I have to get the veil right the first time.

Asherel walked in.
"Oh, that's very nice! But you need to keep adding more veil. Right now it looks like saran wrap."
"I don't dare," I groaned.
"Well fine, don't, but then she looks like an egg salad about to be wrapped at the deli."
That would not evoke the timeless soul  I had hoped to permeate the canvas. I squeezed out some more paint. I did a little research into portrait painting while I was at it. I read the blog of one acclaimed portrait painter, as well as her "tips and techniques" section. She recommended adding painstaking layer by layer, letting each layer dry thoroughly. It is a time-intensive process, but it allows the flesh to glow, as in the paintings of the Masters. By accident, that is what I have been doing. I am not sure the painting glows like a DaVinci or Rembrandt, however.

It occurs to me that this is similar to how people's faces develop in reality as well. As infants, our faces are smooth mush. Cute mush perhaps, but still unlined with experience or knowledge or wisdom that seems to only come with the trials of life. Day by day, year by year, layer by layer, our character grows and our face begins to reflect what we are within. My mom always said that when you are old, you get the face you deserve. Or someone said that. Maybe it was me.

And while I was thinking about faces, I began to think about veils. Part of my trepidation in painting Karissa's veil is that her skin is so porcelain, her dress so exquisite, her face so lovely. Why would anyone want to hide any of that beneath a veil? I think the veil became part of the wedding ceremony because if the groom were to see his bride striding towards him with her glowing, hopeful face in full veiw, we might see a lot more grooms passing out in the wedding ceremony. The veil is for their protection.

When Moses came down from speaking with God, he had to wear a veil over his face too. The shining reflection, the after-glow of his encounter with God was too blazing for the Israelites to look upon. His face glowed with the radiance of God. That is the face I want.

I added the final diaphanous touch of white, and called Asherel back in.
"That's good!" she said.
I put away my brushes before I ruined it. 

Exodus 34:29-35
 ²⁹ When Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the covenant law in his hands, he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the LORD. ³⁰ When Aaron and all the Israelites saw Moses, his face was radiant, and they were afraid to come near him. ³¹ But Moses called to them; so Aaron and all the leaders of the community came back to him, and he spoke to them. ³² Afterward all the Israelites came near him, and he gave them all the commands the LORD had given him on Mount Sinai.  ³³ When Moses finished speaking to them, he put a veil over his face. ³⁴ But whenever he entered the LORD’s presence to speak with him, he removed the veil until he came out. And when he came out and told the Israelites what he had been commanded, ³⁵ they saw that his face was radiant. Then Moses would put the veil back over his face until he went in to speak with the LORD.

Cast Call for Cute

Our dog club sent out a note yesterday with a cast call for large dogs that will bark on command in the back of a pick up, and for cute little fluffy dogs to just sit. We have 2 dogs, but neither fit the bill. Our dogs bark all the time, except on command and neither is fluffy and little. This is too bad because commercials pay well, and we have a lot of expenses coming up.... not the least of which is a new fence to keep the barking dogs from getting out to bark in adjoining streets.
I should not be anxious to return to the life of TV stars however, since the last commercial we did with Lucky resulted in me losing toenails.

But it got me thinking about how easy it is to be cute. I mean, not if you are not... then it is impossible. But if you are cute, life is handed to you on a silver platter.... at least for a time. Nothing is required of you except to be cute. You don't have to bark on command, you don't have to remain seated obediently in the back of a pick up.... you just have to be cute, something that requires no effort and you had no part in developing. It seems grossly unfair, don't you think?

But in my ongoing quest to understand our precious Lord and why He made wrinkles and sunspots, I pondered this issue of cute. Cute usually doesn't last. And since all you have ever had to do is sit there and let people gaze on you, when cute goes away, people have nothing to gaze at. They can tell you, "OK Mr. Former Cutie-pie, BARK!" But you will never have developed the skill that might have held their attention. You are a shell without any goodies inside.

When I was a Nurse's Aid at a Nursing home, one of the absolute hardest jobs I ever did, there was an old lady who we all despised. She was mean, and bitter, and ungrateful. She was a former Broadway Rockette. There were photos of her on her dresser. She had been drop-dead gorgeous. Many husbands and neglected children later, she was now shriveled, wrinkled, grey, and all alone in the nursing home. She ranted and raved about her lost beauty, and the family that had once waited hand and foot upon her, but in the year I was there, never visited...not once.

I am not saying beautiful people cannot be beautiful in character. I know plenty that are. But I think it is easy to rely on and take pride in things we have nothing to do with, like our God-given looks and body type. I think it is so easy to lose focus and to cherish the things that have no real significance or value, and maybe in the process lose those things that do matter.

Hebrews 11:26
He regarded disgrace for the sake of Christ as of greater value than the treasures of Egypt, because he was looking ahead to his reward.

When Did This Happen?

I know I am not alone in looking at a neighbor's kid and saying, "When did you stop wearing diapers?" as they stand before you, 6 feet tall, with car keys in their hands.

Asherel and I were doing a fundraiser for her Global competition in DI next month going door to door selling car wash tickets. It was a fortuitous weekend to be doing so, as the yellow pollen that has laid a layer like paint on everything in the city has transformed every car to a yellow sneeze-inducing powder puff on wheels. The tickets sold within minutes. Some people who don't even own cars bought tickets so they could walk themselves through the wash and get out of the pollen, thick as mustard.

But the young lady who opened one door could not possibly be the toddler I remembered who was born around the same time as Asherel. What are these kids... kudzu? One minute they are babies and then the next thing you know they are looming over you big as trees.

Today is Anders birthday. He is my oldest and also the furthest away, in Boston. I remember as though it were yesterday carrying him in a front pack and taking long walks to the mall where we would share a cinnamon roll. Technically since he was too young to eat a cinnamon roll, he would share it vicariously, as would I. I remember details from his youth with surprising clarity, particularly surprising in light of the fact that I cannot remember what I ate for dinner last night, or the name of the capitol of most of my neighboring states....

And of course, I miss those days, and wish I could have them back. I want them back with some minor alterations. I want unlimited patience and energy, time that I could stretch or compact as necessary depending on how well the day was going, and the ability to see beyond the moment to the eternal perspective on where that moment was leading.

But I didn't have those things. So I did the best I could with the little I had. But for all you young mothers out there, I am going to give you an incomparable gift- a glimpse into that eternal perspective from someone who has lived half an eternity now. Everything adds up to create the person you send off to his life someday. Every smile, every frown, every encouraging or discouraging word.... all of it. So when you can, choose patience, choose encouragement, choose gentleness, choose forgiveness. All those things build a pile that becomes character. If I could do it all over again with all I know now, I would. But since I can't, I will trust that God has covered my deficiencies and pray that today my birthday boy will remember only the best we offered.

Job 4:4
Your words have supported those who stumbled; you have strengthened faltering knees.