Blog-ability

I was upset the other day by what some so-called systems of faith have done to damage their adherents, and how those adherents are so horribly blinded to any sense of truth.

This was brought on, in part, by reading the blog of a girl who was forced to disown her teenage sister because her religion demanded it as a requirement to gain favor with God. Around the same time, a couple who is part of a cult stopped by our door. (My husband was delighted; he loves the opportunity to share God's truth with people, and what better opportunity than when someone comes to your house and asks to discuss religion?)

So it was out of this frustration and a small hope to attempt to spread some rays of sunshine and truth in these lives that I've started a new blog, Talking Religion. I am not convinced about how long it will last, but I do hope to muse for a little while about the importance of honesty with self and God and the seeking of a true and vibrant faith, not a stale, forced one.

Check it out some time if you like, and let me know what you think.

A tiny new beginning

Spring is my favorite season. The warm air, pretty blossoms, and windy afternoons breathe freshness into the everyday and offer hope of a new beginning after a winter of shivers, snow, and blah moments.

New life is a significant part of the season, too; baby birds and tiny flowers appear. Easter is a beautiful reminder of spiritual rebirth.

But what better way to celebrate warmer days than not just to wax poetic and treasure springtime symbolism but to really welcome new life? My friend is having a precious little boy in a couple of weeks; this weekend I had the pleasure of hosting a baby shower for her. She had a glorious glow (even though she said it's just because pregnancy makes her feel warm all the time).

Babies are born every day and I think for this reason I fail sometimes to see the miracle they really are. To think that only nine months ago this child didn't even exist—and now he is preparing to poke his head into the world and see the faces of those who already love him dearly. Every tiny body part—from little lips to squirming toes—will be in perfect proportion, lovingly formed by the Creator of all.

He will be fresh from heaven, just in time for spring.

Bright Sonshine

This past week wasn't one of the sunniest—but it sure had plenty of Sonshine.

There were some big struggles within our itsy-bitsy family. They were so big I suppose, because they were very closely tied to our hoped-for future and left deep doubts in our minds. They warred against rationality and unity and applauded perplexity and tears.

Until Wednesday.

On Wendesday, things started looking up for a number of reasons, not the least of which was a very gracious and loving act by some people in our lives. We went to church in the evening, as we do most weeks. There, the pastor, who of course had no idea about the kind of week we'd had, offered hope from the Son, Jesus Christ. And most of the songs we sung were focused on the fact that God is truly God and worthy of worship, no matter if we feel like He is or not because of the woes of our week.

It was there, at church, that I truly felt Sonshine. The pastor explained that if you hold a quarter close enough to your eyes it will literally block the sun's light. But if you hold it back a little, you can see the sun, much more brilliant and beautiful than the quarter. So it is with problems. If you hold them too close, they can block out everything beautiful—including and especially God. However, if you find ways to step back—whether by praying, reciting God's promises, or just taking a walk and getting some fresh air—you'll gain a welcome, fresh perspective that is mostly God and just a tiny bit problem. The issue doesn't disappear, of course. But you see it differently, are less obsessive about it, and realize there is much more to life than this one difficulty, even if it may seem worse than impossible at the time.

Thank God for Sonshine.

So you want to be a housewife...

Yesterday morning, reflecting on certain frustrations at my job of late, I said to my husband, "Maybe I can be a housewife..."

His quick reply: "Uh, uh. You can't be a housewife unless we have kids."

I tried: "But I could keep the house really clean and you wouldn't have to do any of it—you could do whatever you wanted."

"Hmmmm..." he paused.

Amazing how convincing the no-housework-for-you argument can be :-).

When I returned to reality, I thought about the importance of contentment. For the moment, becoming a housewife and escaping 8- to 5-woes seems next to heaven. But if I think on just a teeny, tiny big past the satisfaction of quitting, I can think of lots of problems with becoming a housewife.

Cleaning and cooking—and only cleaning and cooking—everyday would get old probably within a week. And then I'd start looking for a job because I simply cannot stand to be idle and feel useless (not that housewifery—a word?—is necessarily useless), which would promptly propel me out of my week-long homemaking career and into the workforce I had intended to leave behind for good.

Contentment in every area of life—not just in my not-always-delightful job—is so often difficult to come by. When I was single, a pastor told me that when he was single, he wanted to marry. When he married, he wanted kids. When he had kids, he wanted them to be old enough to vacation and play with. The quest for contentment never ends, he said, unless we make the choice to be content right now.

How's that choice made? Daily, I suppose. Every time I've purposed in my heart to be content for the long haul, it's never quite worked for me. Others probably have more discipline, but with just one day ahead of me, the decision for contentment doesn't seem as overwhelming. It's doable.

Now if I could just be a housewife...

So many blessings

In Bible study last night, the leader asked us to close our eyes and think of the blessings that God had given us within the week—and then thank Him for them. She provided a litany of inspiring suggestions, and the goodness of God flooded my mind.

I thought of my husband, my home, my friends, my family, my health. I thanked God for the smell of flowers, the warmth of hugs, the joy of conversation, and the simple pleasure of breathing in fresh air.

I try to thank God for his blessings daily in my prayers. But how often do I truly soak them up and attempt to express a sense of overwhelming gratitude to my Creator—and then realize the wealth of gifts I've received makes that impossible?

To take the time to do that is a blessing in itself.

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What blessings do you have? I'd love to read about them in my comments section.