The old story about Indian crabs goes a little like this. There was once a man who passed by a fish market to buy some crabs. There he saw a vendor who had a few baskets of crabs. They were all covered with lids except one. Curious, he went up to the vendor and said, "Why do you cover the baskets?" "Because the crabs will climb out if I don't," the vendor replied. "What about that one?" the man asked, pointing to the one basket that was left uncovered. "Oh, those crabs will never climb out," the man said. "They're Indian crabs. As soon as one tries to climb higher, the rest pull him down. I never have to worry about Indian crabs climbing. Ever."
Sad, but true. Embarrassing, but real.
A very close friend of mine recently posted a happy, cheerful status update about coming out of one's comfort zone and trying something new. The barrage of comments she received were almost all disappointing. "Did you THINK?" one asked. "She probably just got out of bed!" another said. "Did you cook?" another asked. And these are her friends, mind you. In and of themselves, the comments were not accusatory or insulting, but lined up like that made me think of someone kicking a man who is already down.
I have noticed this behavior often in people from the east. My childhood is certainly replete with barbs and arrows coming at my brother who was doing far beyond anyone's imagination in his studies. His only consolations were his scholarships and my parents who stood by him. But the taunts and the insults hurled at someone so hardworking and painstaking in his work were just incredible. He heard things like, "I bet he can't climb a tree!" or "He won't last abroad one week! He's going to come running back. Just watch!"
The comments against my friend, who shall remain unnamed, were certainly not that sharp, but sometimes, it's worse when criticism and harsh words are coated in the veneer of, "But only I can say it because I'm your friend. It's endearing." For one, a curse is a curse is a curse. It does not serve the purpose of bringing people closer to one another or deepening a friendship. If anything, it silences. It cuts short joy, enthusiasm and certainly love. Secondly, the next time the person tries to do something new, he hears those voices. And stops. Another crab who will never climb!
The reason this is so frustrating is because I know I do it, too. This Lent, I'm fasting from name-calling in all forms. Jesus said whoever calls his brother a fool is in danger of hellfire. While fear is not driving me to do this fast, I am driven by the check I feel deep inside me each time I call someone a name. Words have power. Undeniable power. And I give them that power because I am made in God's image. God spoke the world into being. Jesus is referred to as The Word in the gospel of John. Paul exhorts us later in one of the epistles that blessings and curses should not roll off the same tongue. Lent has been extremely difficult this year. Partially because I have realized that it's harder in the company of people I love. It is in the company of people I love the most that I curse the most, am unkindest the most. It is the ones I say I love the most that I don't bless with my mouth.
How sad is that?
My husband completely bowled me over last year when I was complaining about our neighbors. I said something to the effect of, "I don't know why you're so careful around those people. They blast their music and they don't deserve any kindness!" I will never forget what he said. It was like Jesus spoke to me. "Shouldn't we be careful around all human beings? Don't they all deserve kindness?" Yikes.
Perhaps I thrived here in the United States because my husband didn't make fun of me, even to endear me to him. He even used the words, "You're right!" - something I had never before heard addressed to me. I drank deep from his encouragement in those first few months. I used to think, "If you can't think of anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" was silly advice, but now I think otherwise. There are times when there is a need for righteous anger, but clearly, it's not as often as we think.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Big Things Come in Small Packages...
...but let me tell you that is not a small package. I came home today with a packing box full of clothes and toys for my children. It was our second MOPSwap of the year. About seventy women cleaned out their closets this last weekend and brought baby clothes, toddler clothes, mom clothes (including pregnancy wear), toys, books, CDs, bouncers, high chairs, baby gates, even rocking chairs with them to Christ Community Church where we meet for MOPS every second and fourth Tuesday.
It was beautiful.
The outpouring of love and sharing was tangible. I think we had about a dozen tables lined up. And not a single mom left empty-handed although there were a few things left that will later go a fundraiser called the Just Between Friends Sale.
Did I mention it was free? Or, well, it was $5, which we charge for each MOPS meeting, but seriously, you couldn't get this much at a thrift store for the same amount. It simply was not about money today. It was about moms getting together and truly sharing common experiences through baby clothes and toys.
I came home a little wistful for the little clothes I didn't look through because my children were growing so fast. I came home with a box full of things for their growing bodies and minds. But mainly, I came home thanking God for MOPS and His overflowing abundance.
I came home with my heart singing not for the things the box contained, but for the things it never could.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
MOPS is Not a Support Group
I always know when I am in the company of someone without little children. For one, they can begin and finish their sentences with the right inflections and appropriate decibel levels for adult conversation. Nothing like, "You know, I just think that for someone like you - NO! NO! PUT THAT DOWN NOW. NOW!!! ALL RIGHT, TIME OUT! For someone like you, NO! SIT STILL. For you... someone... what was I saying?" For another, they sit still for long periods of time and actually hold your gaze while talking to you. I've realized that lately I get uncomfortable when I focus on one thing for too long, which has helped me break my television habit, but it does make people think I am uninterested, or worse, uninteresting.
I just came back from a play date with three other MOPS - all Mothers Of Preschoolers. Exactly what did we do? Well, we had coffee, snacked on whatever we could remember to bring while packing our children into the car, we herded the children around, cheered at their little accomplishments of being able to walk a foot or two, or sharing their toys with each other or just being kind and creative. Quickly, we shared dinner ideas, gave advice about using a crock pot, encouraged each other to exercise, aired our grievances (mostly about ourselves), expressed joy at our children's small accomplishments and then left. No tears were shed, except by the children who were cranky and tired after playing so hard.
Yesterday, at the cash register of a grocery store, I told a woman who had a three year old to look up a MOPS group she might want to attend. What is it? she asked. I said it was a ministry. Then I said it was a support group. I ended by saying, "I have made some of my best friends there."
At this point, I really don't know how to describe what MOPS is and what it is we do there. And yet, it is my lifeline. I know what mothering was like without it and I never want to do that again. If you don't have family or friends living close to you, mothering is extremely lonely and difficult. But I hesitate to call MOPS a support group because we tend to think of women sitting around in a circle and crying. Yes, we do that sometimes. I am also loathe to call it a ministry because it sounds like we preach the gospel there. Yes, we do that, too. But I cannot call it a play group either, although, yes, our children do play there - as we do - and make deep, abiding friendships.
I tend to think of MOPS rather as the presence of the Living God Himself. It is so permeated by Him and so full of His very real, gritty love that I have to come to it, for sustenance, for support, for nourishment. And each time I come to it, I am reminded that there are other moms, just like me, who struggle with this calling of motherhood. These are not picture book moms with perfect families. They are real, living, breathing moms who feel the conviction of raising good children in a fallen world, moms who yell at their children when they don't mean to or want to but are pulled in too many directions, moms who would appreciate more time to read their Bibles but realize that diapers need changing and laundry must be done, moms who would readily throw themselves in front of cars to save their children. Moms, even in their brokenness, who strive to be like Jesus, whether they realize it or not.
So, no, MOPS is not a support group. And I will probably never be able to speak a sentence in the right tone for adult conversation for years to come. But what I have now in MOPS is a bigger blessing than hushed conversations.
I just came back from a play date with three other MOPS - all Mothers Of Preschoolers. Exactly what did we do? Well, we had coffee, snacked on whatever we could remember to bring while packing our children into the car, we herded the children around, cheered at their little accomplishments of being able to walk a foot or two, or sharing their toys with each other or just being kind and creative. Quickly, we shared dinner ideas, gave advice about using a crock pot, encouraged each other to exercise, aired our grievances (mostly about ourselves), expressed joy at our children's small accomplishments and then left. No tears were shed, except by the children who were cranky and tired after playing so hard.
Yesterday, at the cash register of a grocery store, I told a woman who had a three year old to look up a MOPS group she might want to attend. What is it? she asked. I said it was a ministry. Then I said it was a support group. I ended by saying, "I have made some of my best friends there."
At this point, I really don't know how to describe what MOPS is and what it is we do there. And yet, it is my lifeline. I know what mothering was like without it and I never want to do that again. If you don't have family or friends living close to you, mothering is extremely lonely and difficult. But I hesitate to call MOPS a support group because we tend to think of women sitting around in a circle and crying. Yes, we do that sometimes. I am also loathe to call it a ministry because it sounds like we preach the gospel there. Yes, we do that, too. But I cannot call it a play group either, although, yes, our children do play there - as we do - and make deep, abiding friendships.
I tend to think of MOPS rather as the presence of the Living God Himself. It is so permeated by Him and so full of His very real, gritty love that I have to come to it, for sustenance, for support, for nourishment. And each time I come to it, I am reminded that there are other moms, just like me, who struggle with this calling of motherhood. These are not picture book moms with perfect families. They are real, living, breathing moms who feel the conviction of raising good children in a fallen world, moms who yell at their children when they don't mean to or want to but are pulled in too many directions, moms who would appreciate more time to read their Bibles but realize that diapers need changing and laundry must be done, moms who would readily throw themselves in front of cars to save their children. Moms, even in their brokenness, who strive to be like Jesus, whether they realize it or not.
So, no, MOPS is not a support group. And I will probably never be able to speak a sentence in the right tone for adult conversation for years to come. But what I have now in MOPS is a bigger blessing than hushed conversations.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Cookies of Faith
One of the things I like about my MOPS groups is that every other month or so, our table of about eight women along with another table brings breakfast. Baked goods seems to be the obvious choice for me each time so that I can bake bunches of cookies and not eat them all. Today, after nine dozen or so peanut butter cookies, here is my testimony. (And a recipe.)
Peanut butter cookies, which I picked today, to be really mouthwateringly good, must be chewy. But there's a catch. When you're baking them, you have no way to tell if they're done. When they come out of the oven, they've expanded, but are still mostly soft. If you try to watch until the edges are browned, nope, that's too late as well. You just have to preheat the oven, set the timer for the time the recipe book tells you, and then get them out promptly when the timer goes off. Even if they're soft. Even if they look not ready. Allow them to cool and voila! They're perfect.
In other words, you have to have faith. Hebrews 11:1 says "faith is the substance of things hoped for and evidence of things not seen." 2 Corinthians 5:7 reminds us that "we walk by faith, not by sight."
Even when the cookies don't look done. Even when I don't understand. Even when every single instinct in my body tells me to intervene, change something - this will never work. Even then. I will walk by faith, not by sight.
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 1/4 cup flour
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 egg
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
Beat together butter and peanut butter with a hand mixer. Add 1/2 cup of the flour, sugars, egg, baking powder and vanilla. Beat until thoroughly combined. Beat in remaining flour. Chill in refrigerator if necessary. Roll into one inch balls. Flatten with fork tines in a criss-cross pattern. Bake in pre-heated 375 degree oven for 7 - 9 minutes. Cool. Makes about 36.
Peanut butter cookies, which I picked today, to be really mouthwateringly good, must be chewy. But there's a catch. When you're baking them, you have no way to tell if they're done. When they come out of the oven, they've expanded, but are still mostly soft. If you try to watch until the edges are browned, nope, that's too late as well. You just have to preheat the oven, set the timer for the time the recipe book tells you, and then get them out promptly when the timer goes off. Even if they're soft. Even if they look not ready. Allow them to cool and voila! They're perfect.
In other words, you have to have faith. Hebrews 11:1 says "faith is the substance of things hoped for and evidence of things not seen." 2 Corinthians 5:7 reminds us that "we walk by faith, not by sight."
Even when the cookies don't look done. Even when I don't understand. Even when every single instinct in my body tells me to intervene, change something - this will never work. Even then. I will walk by faith, not by sight.
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 1/4 cup flour
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 egg
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
Beat together butter and peanut butter with a hand mixer. Add 1/2 cup of the flour, sugars, egg, baking powder and vanilla. Beat until thoroughly combined. Beat in remaining flour. Chill in refrigerator if necessary. Roll into one inch balls. Flatten with fork tines in a criss-cross pattern. Bake in pre-heated 375 degree oven for 7 - 9 minutes. Cool. Makes about 36.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Reading for Lent
I have come to believe that the Lenten season, even if it is followed imperfectly, changes much inside a person. I say this, not as a Catholic, but as one who came to Christ a little more than a year ago. I fell into Lent with a gusto last year, wanting to fix all my unholiness - every imperfection, every sin - once and for all. God may have smiled at my impulsiveness, but He did reward me. Richly. Extravagantly, as He always does.
I gave up red wine for Lent last year and struggled for much of the time. After a year, I have finally sacrificed all alcohol for a deeper relationship with The Lord.
Over the last year I saw the hold of shame and guilt fall away from me. I had always had a deep sense of shame about my body and no amount of telling me that it was a holy temple fixed it because the Living God did not occupy it. Once He did, He freed me not just from shyness, shame and guilt but also from various addictions to which I had fallen prey. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, "Without [Christ] there is no realization that the world is... without God. Rather, what is worldly will always try to satisfy its unquenchable longing for deification. The world... completely falls prey to itself, and ultimately will put itself in God's place." That was me, to a large degree. Idolatry of the heart comes so naturally to me that I can sometimes only find comfort in the words of Jesus, "I have come not to call the righteous to repentance, but sinners."
This year, I know I need to go deeper. There is so much in me that needs to be burned away in the holy fire of God's love. Maybe not cursing at other drivers while driving will be a good start? I have been convicted of that often lately and I think that is where I'm starting. It seems odd to say that I'm going to fast from calling people names (not just other drivers) but I'm beginning to see how it comes so close to casting a judgment on someone when I call him a fool or an idiot, even in my thoughts.
But then, Christ does not call us to an overt religion of ceremony but a heart attitude of love for God. Lent, I think, is supposed to be difficult. I hope in The Lord and "hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us." (Romans 5:5)
Friday, March 4, 2011
In Search of Clean
I never thought I would become of those people but after watching "Food, Inc." and then developing all kinds of allergies and sinus infections to the point of not being able to have any perfume of any kind on or around me, (I'm serious - I use unscented aluminum-free deodorant and suffer at church) I'm a convert to the organic food movement.
It has been an interesting journey so far and not having finished the old yucky ground beef still in the freezer (we're working on it) makes me kind of sick just thinking about it. But I try not to, which fixes the problem for the most part. Okay, so it's short term. The beef will be gone soon and then we'll be true blue organic eaters.
One of the biggest changes eating organic forces on you is better meal planning. Organic food is expensive to begin with. Throw in trying to live on a grocery budget of about $400 a month with four mouths to feed (one very little and very hungry mouth) with two toddlers and you get the picture. I am blessed in that I have a husband who truly appreciates healthy food. He really isn't one of those meat and cheese guys and he actually likes salads. (And builds shelves - hey, hands off! He's mine!) Okay, so but seriously, we're committed to eating better.
The way it's been working lately is to get pantry stuff at Winco Foods. Also things like onions and pineapples - things with hard exteriors that are generally okay to buy "un-organic." (Read Health for Godly Generations by Renee deGroot for more pointers.) Produce is local and from the farmer's market. The farmer's market also tends to have fruit, eggs and grass-fed beef, which we buy as we need it. Someday I will have an extra freezer to store meat but for now, this works. I truly enjoy the farmer's market. I may be the only crazy one with a list there but the prices are not crazy, we're eating local and every once in a while there are pleasant surprises, like blood oranges - which I have never eaten before - and fresh dill. I always come back invigorated and in love with God's blessings - real, natural food!
Bread and snacks have been our budgeting hurdles in the past. So I have been making crackers and cookies/muffins at home for James to take with him to work and for us to snack on in general and today, I attempted French bread! The verdict is still out because we haven't had it yet but since I got my food processor, I can bake as much bread as I want. The next step is to make tortillas, so we can eliminate that out of grocery shopping trip as well. I have in the past and then didn't keep up with it.
That's how it's going so far. I have to say it's still very much an effort to stay on the budget. But the amount I am learning in terms of making things from scratch and the satisfaction I get from feeding my family home-made, healthy meals has been worth it. My mother was a great cook and if she can do it, I can too. Plus, there's just something so precious about watching Hucksley scarf down something I've baked. Yup, I come from a long line of mothers!
It has been an interesting journey so far and not having finished the old yucky ground beef still in the freezer (we're working on it) makes me kind of sick just thinking about it. But I try not to, which fixes the problem for the most part. Okay, so it's short term. The beef will be gone soon and then we'll be true blue organic eaters.
One of the biggest changes eating organic forces on you is better meal planning. Organic food is expensive to begin with. Throw in trying to live on a grocery budget of about $400 a month with four mouths to feed (one very little and very hungry mouth) with two toddlers and you get the picture. I am blessed in that I have a husband who truly appreciates healthy food. He really isn't one of those meat and cheese guys and he actually likes salads. (And builds shelves - hey, hands off! He's mine!) Okay, so but seriously, we're committed to eating better.
The way it's been working lately is to get pantry stuff at Winco Foods. Also things like onions and pineapples - things with hard exteriors that are generally okay to buy "un-organic." (Read Health for Godly Generations by Renee deGroot for more pointers.) Produce is local and from the farmer's market. The farmer's market also tends to have fruit, eggs and grass-fed beef, which we buy as we need it. Someday I will have an extra freezer to store meat but for now, this works. I truly enjoy the farmer's market. I may be the only crazy one with a list there but the prices are not crazy, we're eating local and every once in a while there are pleasant surprises, like blood oranges - which I have never eaten before - and fresh dill. I always come back invigorated and in love with God's blessings - real, natural food!
Bread and snacks have been our budgeting hurdles in the past. So I have been making crackers and cookies/muffins at home for James to take with him to work and for us to snack on in general and today, I attempted French bread! The verdict is still out because we haven't had it yet but since I got my food processor, I can bake as much bread as I want. The next step is to make tortillas, so we can eliminate that out of grocery shopping trip as well. I have in the past and then didn't keep up with it.
That's how it's going so far. I have to say it's still very much an effort to stay on the budget. But the amount I am learning in terms of making things from scratch and the satisfaction I get from feeding my family home-made, healthy meals has been worth it. My mother was a great cook and if she can do it, I can too. Plus, there's just something so precious about watching Hucksley scarf down something I've baked. Yup, I come from a long line of mothers!
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