A Better Dream than Mine

I'm participating in a writing group that my friend, Matt, put together for people who are looking to be encouraged to write more frequently. If my sparse writing over the past 6 months is any indication, I need a little motivation. This is the first of 8 "assignments" I'll be posting as a part of this project.
 
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  I’m sure I dog-eared many pages and circled dozens of hoped for items in the 1989 Sears Wishbook, but I only really remember one. Amidst the rock tumblers, art sets, and dollhouse furniture, just one prize really mattered to 7-year-old me: Marie. Marie stood about a foot and a half tall, wore a white party dress, and had long, shiny brown pigtails. In my mind, her sweet little face was that of a four-year-old; and I longed for her to be mine. The $70 price tag was steep. I’m not sure if it was steeper than my parents could afford that Christmas, or just steeper than they felt was reasonable … either way, I knew she wouldn’t be waiting under the tree for me.  I was, however, given the option of working for her – doing extra chores and odd jobs around the house until I had earned enough to buy her myself.

  So, that’s what I did. For months and months I asked for extra tasks at home and saved every penny. I knew I wanted her more than any of the cheaper dolls or toys at Wal-Mart or even the KB Toys in the mall. I knew she was worth it.

  I have no memory of the working or the waiting, but I can picture the BIG DAY like it was yesterday. I had reached my goal. I was a second grader with $70 to my name and I was ready to cash it in for the doll of my dreams. Can you imagine? I dressed up. My mom let me wear lipstick. I felt so grown-up, proud, and excited. I remember sitting on the edge of my parent’s four-poster bed as my mom took the well-worn catalog and dialed the toll-free phone number to place the order. I remember hearing her voice grow concerned as she asked questions about warehouses. I remember the look on her face changing in a way that made my heart sink.

  I have two children of my own now, and I often think back to what my mom did next. In the moments following the end of her phone call she made a powerful decision that must have taken an immense amount of faith. She decided it was not her job to repair her daughter’s broken heart.

  Mom came and sat with me on the bed and began to explain. Marie was out of stock. No longer being made. Not available for purchase anywhere. The long-awaited reward had evaporated. She let me cry … she always let me cry, which is good because tears are my primary vehicle for expressing any emotion. She let me cry, but then she spoke the words that I have remembered ever since: “If you want to, you can pray and tell God that you are choosing to trust Him to provide something even better.”  She could have said, “Let’s go to the mall right now and find a new doll,” or, “don’t worry, I’m going to fix this and make it better for you.” Instead she said, “you can choose to trust God.” 

  I did. Faith like a child, you know? I believed her and I believed that somehow God could work it all out. I was heartbroken, but I believed it.

  A couple of weeks later another publication showed up in our mailbox. It wasn’t quite time for the 1990 Sears Wishbook to arrive … no, this time it was a catalog for a company that I had never heard of before: American Girl. There were three dolls in the catalog, Kirsten, Samantha, and Molly; and they were like nothing I had ever seen before. Each doll had books written about her adventures, which was perfect for the little bookworm that I was. Each doll had her own beautifully detailed clothes, accessories, and furniture. The collections captivated me.

  And then there was Samantha, herself. Long, shiny brown hair that fell in curls around her shoulders and big, brown eyes, both just like mine. She reminded me a bit of Marie, only she was much, much better. My mom and I both knew she was the doll for me the moment we laid eyes on her. I’ve always imagined myself to be a bit less expressive than my mom; but now that I am the parent, I can only imagine that my own whooping, hollering, and jumping up and down would rival the victory dance she did in our sun-bathed entryway. After a phone call to my dad’s office to let him know the good news, we worked out our plan. Since my late October birthday wasn’t too far off, we decided that I would wait until then to receive the doll I had saved for, so that she could be given to me along with some clothes and accessories as gifts from my parents.

  When I cracked my eyes open the morning of my 8^th birthday my room was glowing with early morning sunlight and magic. There she was, across the room from me, sitting on a little white daybed, just like mine. She was perfect, in her brown plaid dress, seated on the white comforter my mother had sewn for her. Next to her bed stood a large, navy trunk. It was open just enough for me to see a glimpse of its contents … lovingly lined with fabric, a small dresser with three drawers, and a hanging rack full of beautiful dresses. Aside from actually constructing the trunk, my mom had made all of it. I couldn’t make myself move, content to just lie there and gaze at the beauty of it all. Perhaps I was afraid I would wake up from the perfect dream of at least one 8-year-old girl. Too good to be true, but it was.

  I wouldn’t realize until many years later that Marie was the first Ishmael of many in my life – a perfectly good prize that I had set my hopes on, but not the one that was intended for me. Of course maturity has taught me that, although God is faithful, He does not always “fix” our broken hearts by giving us something “better” in such an immediate sense. I do believe, though, that through Samantha, He used a child’s language and a child’s attention span to teach that He is always good and can always be trusted. Always.

Back in the Saddle

  Apparently, I took a blogging hiatus for the summer. Busy, got a new phone but my laptop operating system is too old to sync with it so I can't upload pics, and I keep procrastinating ordering a new OS because I know my laptop doesn't have enough space for it, which means I'll need to move lots of photos off of it first ... whatever. I haven't blogged in a few months but I miss it & want to get back in the habit. 

  I've been doing a little writing for other blogs, though, so since I never got around to linking up to them I'll just do a little re-post here. Just making sure I still remember how this whole thing works :)  I wrote this little ditty about the delayed gratification of faith a few weeks ago ... I would just link to it but our church's women's ministry blog is on Tumblr, so I'll just re-post. Hope it encourages you as you wait on the Faithful One!

Anticipating Delight

  Delayed gratification. Waiting for something better, later, instead of settling for less, now. The Scriptures tell us story after story of waiting for fulfillment: Abraham packed up his family and left home, waiting to be shown the land that was to belong to his descendents. The Israelites toiled in Egypt for hundreds of years while waiting to be delivered from slavery. Daniel spent the night with lions, and his friends went into the furnace—all of them awaiting rescue even in the midst of dramatically awful circumstances. Waiting may be a common theme throughout the Bible, but that isn’t the only source that tells us that waiting is good.

  In my role as a counselor, I often have the opportunity to see the truths of Scripture fleshed out (whether for better or worse) in the lives of my clients, as well as in psychological research. I love seeing God’s Word stand firm as researchers publish their findings that announce (in so many words), “Studies have shown your life will work better if you live like this … ,” while they don’t even realize that whatever basic truth they are proclaiming is one that God gave us thousands of years ago. One such subject of study is that of delayed gratification. Over the past fifty years, multiple studies have shown that children who demonstrate an ability to delay gratification will generally go on to experience greater success in life than those who act more impulsively.

  I believe this discipline of waiting is so vitally important because God does not intend for us to find our greatest fulfillment in things that can be obtained in the here and now—new homes, job promotions, good health, successful relationships, etc. These things can all be wonderful blessings, but if we allow any of them to become our end goal, we will one day be left wishing that we had waited for that which is greater. We have been promised that Jesus is preparing a place for us (John 14:3) and that our reward in heaven is great (Matthew 5:12).

  The cost of abundant life now and great reward later is high—we must be willing to take up our cross and follow Him. We must die to our own ambitions and dreams. We must make the commandments of loving God and loving others, and the commission to make disciples, the great pursuits of our lives. Might some earthly, material blessings and comforts be part of what we are given to steward? Of course, but we must strive to deny the addiction that can come with the immediate gratification those things bring.

  So how, practically, do we do this in our wealthy and materialistic culture? Once again, even modern psychology points us back to Biblical truths. More recent studies on delayed gratification have tried to answer the question, “What makes certain people willing to wait?” The findings from one study indicated that children who were able to distract themselves from the immediate prize had a much greater ability to wait for the greater reward that had been promised if they abstained. This truth calls to mind Colossians 3:2: “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” If we will train ourselves to become distracted with the things of God—His promises and works—we will find it much easier to lay aside selfish living. On the other hand, if we feed our minds a steady diet of media and conversations that center on material stuff, we will constantly be frustrated in our attempts to deny self. It will always feel too hard.

  In addition, we don’t have to depend on ourselves to create this type of growth in our lives. Another study showed that a child’s ability to delay gratification was tied to the dependability of the one promising future reward. If the child was continually disappointed, he or she tended to grab at the immediate prize while it was available. They had been given empty promises and they knew it. However, children who had the experience of receiving what had been promised in earlier instances were much more likely to wait for the reward. They knew that the one who had promised was faithful.

  The One Who has promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23). Do you know that? If you will set your affection on Him, if you will allow your mind to dwell on His promises to you and stories of the ways He has shown Himself faithful, a new excitement for eternal reward will follow. The more you know Him, the more natural it will become to wait on Him. He will convince you if you give Him the time. Will you make room in your heart for anticipating delight?

Reflect & Respond

1. “Take your temperature” in regard to waiting … are you already disciplined in setting your mind on long-term goals, or does impulsivity constantly derail you? Ask the Holy Spirit to reveal any areas in your life where you repeatedly grab at what is temporary instead of patiently waiting.
2. Consider the subjects that distract your mind. Do you find yourself often coveting things or relationships you don’t have, or putting your best energy toward goals that aren’t lasting?
3. Begin building a cache of truth and encouragement in your mind and heart. Read Scripture. Memorize it. Read autobiographies/biographies of men and women of faith, and learn how God showed Himself faithful to them. Spend time with people whose eyes are set on a prize more distant than a few decades from now, and let their passion rub off on you.
4. Ask God to grow you into a woman who seeks first the kingdom of God (Matthew 6:33).

Spring Recap: May

  I've fallen off the blog-wagon the past few months, but now that we've come out of our haze of the million and one events we had during May, June, and early July, I think I'll attempt to catch up. So, here's what we were up to in May ...

  This little man enjoyed his last days as a two-year-old. Precious boy.

 

   And this little girl enjoyed eating ... gotta keep those cheeks nice and squishy!

  Liam had his third birthday on the 11th, and couple of birthday parties sprinkled during the surrounding weeks. I'll have to do a separate post on his celebration and his 3rd birthday interview!

 

  I got to experience my first Mother's Day with two armfuls of love. We celebrated with a morning at home, lunch with Josh's family and dinner with my family.

 

  The dinner with my family was actually a celebration of the graduations of my little sister and little brother from college and high school, respectively (sorry, Zach, that we didn't get a picture together). Isn't my sis lovely? Yes, yes she is.

  At the end of the month we got to see Josh's sister and her husband when they came in town from Nashville for Memorial Day weekend. The kids love getting to hug on and play with their Uncle Kyle and Aunt Millie.

 

   And then we rounded out the month with a trip to Silver Dollar City. Liam was willing to try out some new rides, which is way outside his comfort zone; and Cora was just happy to be surrounded by people to watch.

So, May in a nutshell. Cute kids, lots of celebrating. Stay tuned for June!

He Has Diamonds on the Inside

  Last night at dinner he spontaneously said, "Mommy, I love you. You are a sweet, precious baby."

Catching the falling petals

  This morning, as I was loading the kids up in the car to go to the farm for the day while I work, he was snuggling the lovey he has slept with since he was a baby. He said, "I just love blue puppy. I take care of her and that is why she is lovely."

  When I have gotten him out of the car & I'm getting his sister out of her carseat, he often sits down at the edge of the garage and says, "Mom, come sit here and watch the world with me;" and when I tuck him in at night he says, "I just need to tell you one more thing ... no, five things."

  And I treasure all these things in my heart.

Three!

  I can't believe a full year has gone by since we took this picture on the day Liam turned 2! How can he be 3 already?

His face has lost so much of the remaining babyish look that it still had last year ... why is it so sad to watch little ones grow up? Isn't that what we hope for them to do?

Three years ago this precious, scrawny little 7lb. 1oz. bundle came into the world. Bright-eyed and alert and cuddly. He wasn't a great eater, but he was sweet and loved sleeping in a little ball on my chest. I think I spent most of my waking hours those first few months just sitting on the couch and feeding him, talking to him, taking pictures of him, or napping with him. I wept tears of gratefulness and joy all the time. I remember meditating often on what Mary must have experienced when she watched her firstborn son sacrificed on the cross and being brought low at the thought of if.

By the time he turned one, Liam was walking a little bit, saying a few words, and charming our socks off. Such a sweet, good-tempered little man. He was curious, of course, but never needed too much redirection when he got interested in something he shouldn't. He loved playing with balls and reading books.

For anyone reading this who happens to have only one child who is one year of age or younger, please take note of the crazy differences between a 4 day old and a one year old, and then the difference between a one year old and a two year old. Yikes! Such massive development happens SO quickly. It's awesome and gut-wrenching. By his second birthday Liam had gone from having a light dusting of hair with teeny flip curls in the back to having a full, curly, golden mane (yes, I know it's ridiculous how obsessed we are with our sons hair). At age two Liam had lots to say. He loved baseball and reading books. He still had a little bit of baby roundness in his cheeks.

 And now, big man is three. This pic is a little blurry and his teeth are a little green from a cupcake, but the giant cheesy smile is typical. He is a sweet son - always giving "squeezy hugs" and a master of puppy, eskimo, butterfly, and boy (regular) kisses. He is quick to say "thank you" and quick to say "I'm sorry I 'sobeyed you," or "sorry I was fwustwated" (which may give you a clue as to what he often hears his mommy say).

At some points during the day, I will stop and try to remember the last time he was quiet - aside from when he was asleep. He talks. And talks. And talks. And sings. He tells stories, announces imaginary baseball games, carries on both sides of conversations between himself and his toys or sometimes between himself and his sister. He sings songs, both real and made up. He likes doing hand motions to Jesus Loves Me, but the song he requests most frequently is David Crowder's Sing Like the Saved. He's loving David Crowder so much lately that most of his made up songs end with him saying, "Amen." 

He's a fantastic big brother. He "encowages" his baby sister often, like when she cries in the car and he says, "it's okay, Cowa, I'm right here," or, "you don't need to cwy!" or, "hey, cwanky-pants!" He gives her big hugs and kisses and always makes sure we are planning on bringing her along with us, wherever we are going. When we got a babysitter for her tonight so we could take him on a Daddy/Mommy/Liam date to the baseball game he just kept asking what she was doing and saying that she wanted to come. He tries to teach her to talk. He gets frustrated when she grabs his toys and sometimes he is too rough, sometimes on purpose, sometimes accidentally. He just turned three, though, so I don't expect perfect impulse control (mine isn't always as great as I'd like it to be, either). He loves figuring out new games that they can play together and they laugh and laugh.

He (finally) loves going to class at church. Sometime early in 2013 the tearful goodbyes finally stopped and now he is always so excited to see his friends and teachers. He wears big boy underwear for all of his waking hours and never really has accidents anymore. He sleeps in a firetruck toddler bed. He doesn't have pacis. He sometimes drinks from big boy cups (without lids), and just the other day I started teaching him how to use safety scissors.

Liam loves learning new things and is getting better and better at counting items. He still has some trouble counting past 14 because he gets in a hurry and skips numbers, but he recognizes numbers I don't remember teaching him and will say things like, "look, there's a 71!" and be correct. He will usually correctly identify the sounds of the letters and likes playing the "reading" game on my phone (Bob Books). He really enjoys puzzles now, and wants to color or paint at least a couple of times a week. But baseball ... baseball is still king. It's hard to get annoyed about baseballs going over the fence when the occurrence is accompanied by shouts of, "I hit it out of the park!" And he does, this kid would hit baseballs all day long. 

He still drinks hot milk (very important that it be hot, not just warm) every morning and night, and takes a one and half to two hour nap every afternoon. Falling asleep for those naps can be tricky, though, and when I go to his room to remind him to be quiet and lay down he says, "but mom, I was just talking about baseball." He is getting so big, but is still so little.

We love you, sweet buddy, and can't wait to enjoy every day of the next year with you!