Looks Are Deceiving

   Independence comes in many forms.  For my son, it came at the age of ten.  This was a magical age.  The first foray into double digits – Yes!- but, more importantly, it was the age at which he was legally allowed to fill his own plate at the breakfast bar of Shoney’s. 

   Shoney’s was always the choice for us when it came to breakfast out.  There was no wonder, when you walked into the door and your senses were assaulted by aromas of cooking and baking, as well as, the delightful sight of fruit and floral arrangements decorating the buffet tables.  The tastes of the many items offered, insured an all-around satisfactory dining experience. 

   This day found the boys and me enjoying a leisurely breakfast.  We were “vacationing” while my husband worked.  Needless to say, we always got our money’s worth at All-You-Can-Eat buffets. As parents of boys, it was a wise financial move.  Not certain if they ever actually got full, we usually just told them, at some point, they had to stop eating. 

   Finishing up his fourth plate of food, he asked if he could go back for more.  I told him to make this trip count because it would be his last for this meal.  He squared his shoulders, stuck his chin out ever so slightly, and headed back to the buffet.  An act so simple and yet I could hear another apron string snap reminding me, again, how quickly he was growing. 

   Independent though he was, I still watched him as he perused the buffet, making his way slowly up one side and down the other.  When comfortable that he was maintaining a sanitary method of plating his food, I turned my attention back to the other two and became engrossed in the conversation at hand.  As the discourse continued, I looked back toward the buffet and saw him stopped before one of the displays.  Once again, I rejoined the discussion as I finished up my own meal.  When he walked back to our table, I chuckled to myself at the care he had taken in selecting his last item.  Surprisingly, the plate that he returned with carried one, lone banana.

   Joining the ongoing conversation, I watched as he attempted to peel the banana.  After a couple of tries to pull the stem down, I reached across the table and offered to peel it for him, still taking every opportunity to be the “Mama.”  As he placed it in my hand, he said, “You’d think it was  rubber.”  I carefully took it, so as not to bruise it, and picked up my knife to cut it.  It wasn’t until I had the knife on the stem that I realized and exclaimed, “IT IS RUBBER!!”  Without missing a beat he answered, “Well, no wonder it was so hard to pull it off that table.” I smiled to myself as I thought that maybe that apron string had only frayed.

   …I wonder if somewhere there is security camera footage of a little boy struggling to pull an artificial banana from a fruit arrangement, followed by unknown woman, glancing suspiciously over her shoulder, as she struggles to cram an artificial banana back into the same arrangement…

Only the Weak Survive

    The ride home from the hospital had been no different than the previous few.  We had cried, laughed because we were crying, and then, cried again.  We were a mess.   Reality had come and we were struggling to wrap our minds around what we had been told. 

    We had both spent a sleepless night in ICU. The drug trial that had been attempted that day was to no avail.  The doctor told us there was no cure.  No one with this condition had ever been cured of it.   We were sent home to wonder what would happen next.  The best that we could hope for was that the progression of this condition would allow me to be in the 20% of people that survived 2-3 years more, after diagnosis.  Once the scarring of lung tissue had reached a certain level the search for a suitable donor would begin.  In that case, a double lung or heart/lung transplant would increase my chances of survival to 50% for five more years.

    For the first time in my life, I was in the grip of utter sorrow.   And now, back at home and alone for the first time in six weeks, I sought solace from the One who knew me best and loved me most.  Though driven to my knees in prayer, the only words that tumbled from my mouth were, "No one can take care of my family the way that I can!”  Prostrate on the floor, I dissolved into tears.  My tears were replaced by sobs of which I thought I was incapable.  There in my closet, I came to the end of myself.  No longer self-sufficient and able to handle whatever was thrown my way.  The mere thought of what I was up against was obscene.  The only thing that I knew for sure was that I could not carry this burden. Facing the unthinkable, it occurred to me that in order to be at peace, I was going to have to give up that which was most precious to me – my family – and place them in His hands. Though unable to find audible words to convey, my heart spoke to His.  I envisioned myself placing my husband and little boys into the strong and capable hands of the One who had given them to me.  Inexplicably, it was if the walls of my closet were folded away and He was there.  I sensed His Presence as never before.  It was as if He reached into my very soul and calmed my heart.  The sobs that had flooded the room ceased.  

    I stood that day with the understanding that I was powerless to help myself and yet sustained by the Omnipotent One, ignorant of my future and yet certain of the Omniscient One, unaware of where to go but reliant on the Omnipresent One…

II Corinthians 12:9   “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’”

Pride Goeth Before a Fall

With three boys in tow, I whirled into the new dentist's office.  Moving to a new city had caused change all the way around.  Among the things that we left behind was a beloved dentist with which were familiar.

  The office was large and housed several dentists.  Once the boys were settled into separate rooms, I asked to use the facilities.  The receptionist pointed and I turned to follow her direction.  Thankfully, the restroom was at the end of the hall.  No mistaking it, the door stood ajar.

  Upon leaving the restroom, I casually glanced to my left.  Sitting on his stool was a dentist that was looking back at me.  I smiled graciously and headed back down the hall, a little miffed at his obvious stare.  Our visit went as expected and I scheduled two follow-up visits for two of the boys.

  About a week later, we returned to the office.  By now, I was familiar with my surroundings and headed to the restroom while waiting for my son’s appointment.  Again, the open door beckoned at the end of the hall.  Though forgotten before I went in, I was reminded of the previous week’s encounter when I left the restroom.  Sitting in almost the same spot as before was the dentist from last week.  And this time, he greeted me with a look that was somewhere between incredulous and smirking.  A semi-smile on his face made me feel uncomfortable. 

   Now, I was bothered.  What was wrong with this creeper?!  I was a married woman, and I did not appreciate his obvious staring.  The hallway seemed to lengthen as I walked back to the waiting room.  I could feel his eyes boring a hole between my shoulder blades.  How dare he?  Oh wouldn’t I like to give him a piece of my mind!  But on second thought, I surely did not want to encourage conversation of any kind. 

   I made a bee-line for my husband’s office and relayed what had happened.  By now, I was irate and ready to change dentists.  I had not dressed provocatively.  I had not asked for his attention.  And yet, I felt as though I was under a microscope. 

  Our final appointment arrived yet another week later.  I had made sure that I would not need to visit the Powder Room while I was there.  Unfortunately, I had forgotten to do the same with my three-year-old.  Before our visit was over, he was dancing on one foot and then the other.  It was with some trepidation that I rounded the corner to head down the hallway.  As I made the turn, I was faced with a most humbling sight.  There at the end of the hall, no longer beckoning was the closed door of the restroom.  Emblazoned across the front in letters that seemed to jump right off the door was the word, “MEN”.

  If possible, I would have crawled into my purse that day.  Ego completely deflated, I laughed out loud drawing a somewhat agitated glance from the receptionist.  Totally embarrassed, I confessed to my husband what I had done…TWICE.  Humility IS a good thing… right?

Romans 12:3  "For by the grace given me I say to every one of you:  Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you."

Parenting Tip #34 "How to Teach Your Children to Sit at the Dinner Table"

  Our three young boys went through a phase of not understanding the importance of sitting down for a family meal.  Most meals consisted of my husband and me eating and trying to carry on a conversation about our day through a cloud of various little boy body parts and action figures.  Whether jumping up to check out what was on TV, imitating their favorite superhero, or simply hanging on the chair by one “cheek”, it became apparent that they were suffering from a lack of respect for the dinner table.  

   One evening proved too much for my husband.  After several warnings, or threatenings to be exact, he decided to demonstrate what “Sit down in your chair!” meant.    Did I mention that when demonstrating proper behavior for children, it is an excellent idea to practice ahead of time?  Or that when one parent is demonstrating the proper way to “Sit down in your chair”, it might me a good idea for the other parent to grab the car keys and head to the mall?  Did I also mention that you should NEVER demonstrate said technique with an antique chair?

   My husband rose from his seat at the head of our table and demanded our family’s attention by stating, “THIS is the way to sit down in your chair!”  --At which time he added his own exclamation point with his actions.  From my vantage point, what I witnessed was one fluid motion that took him from his full 6 foot frame to disappearing underneath the table’s edge.  With a look of mixed horror and hilarity, all three boys whipped their sweet little heads around to stare at me…

   Did I also mention how very important it is to present a united front, as parents, when dealing with children?  What was I to do?  I slowly pushed back my chair and dipped my head beneath the table to find out exactly what had just transpired.  There at the far end of the table lay my husband in a semi-fetal position amongst the four splayed legs of what used to be an antique chair.

   There have been many times in my life that I have failed miserably as a parent but, none as miserable as this time.  Maybe I should have stoically added, “If you want a spanking!”  Instead, after nearly aspirating the bite of food I had just taken into my mouth I committed a colossal fail.  I, as well as, our children completely dissolved into uncontrollable, belly-cramping, wheezing-because-I can’t breathe laughter.  In fact, I have tears in my eyes even as I write.

   The goal of demonstrating proper behavior to children is to make an impression upon them.    From that point on, I do not remember having any more issues with dinner time behavior.  My husband left a huge impression on our three little boys.  They are still impressed today…along with the kitchen floor.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

    He was perfect - 9 pounds and 2 ounces of utter bliss. When he decided to make his debut into our world, he did so in just under an hour. He was walking at nine months and talking before that. As he grew, a pattern began to emerge.

   It became obvious that he soaked up everything around him…especially everything he heard.  I also noticed that as he honed his communication skills, I developed the innate ability to sense when something untoward was about to exit his sweet little mouth.  In fact, it was an uneasy – hair standing on the back of my neck – silent alarm that warned me to take evasive measures -- to move him to a safe distance -- out of ear’s reach.  Unfortunately, most instances found him out of arm’s reach.

   This particular day we were in the grocery store.  He was such a good boy!  He sat under the shopping cart, quietly playing, as we moved up and down the aisles.  I noticed, after about the third aisle, that we were meeting the same elderly lady moving in the opposite direction.   Each time she approached us; she would lovingly look down at my little miracle and nod at me as if to say, “Never have I seen a more precious child.  What an awesome mom you must be!”

  As we rounded the end of the fourth aisle and once again headed toward the little lady, she paused and waited.  The suddenness with which the unease came was almost shocking.  Not unlike a wave of nausea, it hit me full on.  She was looking directly at him.  A quick glance at him revealed that he had not noticed.  A surge of relief started up my spine… and then she spoke to him.

   Inside I was saying, “Keep walking lady!  Don’t make eye contact!”  Sadly, she was not picking up the vibe I was putting down.  That is when my world went into slow motion.  She dipped her head down and looked him directly in the eye and said, “My, what a sweet little boy.” It was too late.  I was too far away from him and too close to her to run down the aisle like a runaway train.  Instead,  I watched as he stuck his beautiful, little two year old blond head out from under the cart and with the clarity of a future preacher said, “You a old buzzard.”

  This was another swoon moment for me.  Can’t really remember what I said, if anything, or whether or not I paid for my groceries, or if I simply left my buggy with the elderly lady before hitting the front door.  The one thing that was screaming through my head was “WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?!” 

  And then my mind was drawn back to the previous day.  My sweet baby and I had been in the car headed for the mall when an elderly gentleman almost side-swiped our vehicle.  I was furious that his inattention could have hurt my precious cargo!  Without thought I shouted, “YOU OLD BUZZARD!”  

   The ride home that day was unusually quiet.  I explained that what he had said was wrong, because what I had said was wrong. That day, Humility and I became intimately acquainted.  Although sometimes unpleasant to be around, I have a way of bringing us back together.

   Funny how God has a way of making things abundantly clear.

…but set an example for the believers in speech…1 Timothy 4:12

Which Way Are You Running?

  The story of David and Goliath is one of my favorites.  Every time I read it, I am impressed by something fresh and new.  To understand the story is to take a closer look at the characters involved.

Saul:  He was impressive--a head taller than any of the other Israelites.  He was the obvious choice to go out and face Goliath.  But, sadly—he had chosen to go his own way apart from God.  His lack of leadership put the men that had sworn to serve him in the position of being demoralized.  He had even tried to bribe them with money and his own daughter to accomplish the task of removing the giant.   He didn’t understand that Goliath wasn’t the problem—his lack of faith in God was the real issue.

The Israelite army:  For forty days, they drew up the battle lines. For forty days, they endured the humiliating barrage of a trash talking giant.  For forty days, they were too afraid to meet the challenge on the battlefield.  For forty days, they watched their king cower in fear and they followed suit.  They didn’t realize that God was waiting to give them the victory, had they stepped out in faith.

Goliath:  He was a take charge kind of guy.  He decided to, personally, dispatch the Israelite army by conquering their champion.  He was a fighting man from birth and another battle was nothing to him.  He didn’t realize the battle had already been decided, that the Champion he was about to face was actually God Almighty.

The Philistine army:  These men were warriors that were content to put their trust in another man for their salvation.  They were relying on Goliath’s physical attributes to win the victory without realizing that they had already been handed defeat.

David:  He was a young man with enough faith to believe that God was in control.  He believed that God had chosen the Israelite people as His own and that the victory was already in their hands - had they looked beyond the giant on the battlefield.

    With which character do you identify?   What do you do when you are faced with a giant? Do you do what the Israelites did?  Verse 24 tells us they ran in great fear from the giant.  How about the Philistines?  Verse 51 tells us that when they saw their hero was dead, they ran away in defeat.  Or are you more like David? Verse 48 says that David ran quickly toward the giant.  He ran with abandon - headlong toward Goliath.  He was the only one that understood that the battle wasn’t theirs at all—He was simply running to join God on the battlefield.

     Unfortunately, I can see myself in all of the characters.  Some days I have been Saul….unwilling to give up the throne of my life even though the true King is waiting to lead me.  Some days I have been Goliath…self-sufficient and able to handle what is thrown at me, even though the best that I can do is as "filthy rags".   Some days I have been the Israelites….running in fear.  And even a few days I’ve been the Philistines….running in defeat.

     Oh, for the faith of David daily! – to greet each day with the first thought, that no matter what I may face...“If God is for me, who can be against me?”


Scripture Reference:  1 Samuel 2-4; 8-11; 16; 20-25; 32; 40-41; 45-48; 51c

The Question: Conclusion

   Death was not a taboo subject in our home.  We had lost loved ones over the years and our children walked alongside us through those times, attending funerals as we did.  Each of these instances provided teaching moments for us that we used to talk about our belief in Christ and understanding of death as a doorway to true life.  We had taught them that faith in Christ was the only answer to a fear of dying.  Over time each of them had come to a saving knowledge of who Christ is and what He had done for them.

   The question that he posed that day brought me to a crisis of faith.  Did I believe what I had claimed all these years?  Or was my faith a simple platitude to an electrical impulse of my own brain? In the time that it took to inhale, my faith was solidified. At that moment, it was tested and my heart answered rock-solid.  I DID believe what I had claimed to believe and for the first time I, ALONE, had to stand on that faith.   

   I looked directly at him and began.  I told him that eventually everyone dies, but that I was not going to leave one second before I was “supposed to.”  God knew when that moment was, so it wasn’t ours to worry about.  I asked him, “When I die…where am I going?”  He answered, “Heaven.”  I asked, “How do you know that?”  He said, “Because you asked Jesus to come into your heart.”   I watched as a look of concern on his face was replaced with a thoughtful gaze.  I knew then, that the same Heavenly Father that was speaking peace to my own heart was doing the same for him.  “What do you think I will be doing in heaven after I die?” And with the sweetest grin he answered, “Waitin’ for me.”