The Rudder of My Days

"The first hour of the morning is the rudder of the day."

~Henry Ward Beecher

Rudder~"that which guides or governs the course"

Webster's 1828

What shall be the rudder of this day?

This day You've given me. This day full of new mercies.  This day that sings of Your grace.

This day I will never have again.

How will I spend this first hour? 

Will it be on rabbit trails on the computer or chats on social media?

Will it be spent blogging my own thoughts or being inspired by the thoughts of great men?

Will it be the reading the latest news or witty political commentary or theological debates?

Will it be doing another load of laundry and the many urgent tasks that call my name?

Or will it be Your words that guide and govern me? The Voice of Truth. The Way of Wisdom.

The One Who truly shows me how to love my children better, what to think of the latest news, how to spend my time wisely. The One Who shows me how to have a quiet and gentle spirit in the midst of things undone and many needs to meet. These words of life that transform me and renew my mind, that I may glorify You in all things and walk steadfastly in wisdom's way.

These words that are profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for instruction in righteousness.

Oh, Heavenly Father, let me desire Your guidance and governing above all.  Let Your Words of life be the rudder of my days. Let them be my first desire when I wake and my soul's food all the day long.

With love,

Trisha

Can't We Just Be Done With All This Talk About Modesty? ~A Review of Not Just Rules

God ordains clothes to witness to the glory we have lost, 

and it is added rebellion to throw them off.

~John Piper

*******

It was hard not to stare at them. It wasn't because their skirts were so high, or because their shirts were so low. In fact, they were some of the most modestly dressed young ladies I had seen in a long time.

But, there they were, in the middle of the store, acting like pigs with gold rings in their snouts (Prov. 11:22). Gathered in a semi-circle, they listened to their friend read passages from Fifty Shades of Gray. Of course, the reader, perhaps to ease her conscience, declared to them, "I don't usually read stuff like this."

And yes, I did it. I gave them the look as I covered my little girl's ears and looked to move past them. They realized their indiscretion, not enough to put them book down, but enough to move out of the middle aisle and to a side one. Their giggles were haunting, and yes, this was the perfect confirmation that clothes alone don't define modesty or accurately reflect the heart.

But the fact that this is true doesn't mean that clothes don't define or measure at all. Today's only rule among even many Christian woman regarding modesty is that there should be no rules. And we older women are second-guessing ourselves--maybe we don't have enough grace? Maybe we're just not with it? To address what one wears surely can't be gospel-centered.

So, can't we just dispense with all this talk about modesty and move on to more important things? No. Because clothing matters, even though our culture says it doesn't, the culture that surrounds our children and hungers to mold them into their godless image.

Many affirm that how we dress is a heart issue, and thus, not anyone's business. But the truth that it is a heart issue is the very reason we must diligently address this topic.

"Clothes are not meant to make people think about what is under the clothes. Clothes are meant to direct attention to what is not under them: merciful hands that serve others in the name of Christ, beautiful feet that carry the gospel where it is needed, and the brightness of a face that has beheld the glory of Jesus."

~John Piper

Not Just Rules is a new e-book written by my friend, Bambi Moore. I confess bias in that I do love this woman. She loves the Lord wholeheartedly and carries with her a teachable spirit. Her desire is to glorify Him in all things, and from that desire came this book, a gift to her daughters and a gift to other women struggling with this issue or who simply need encouragement.

Bambi does a great job of covering the heart of the matters of beauty and modesty. If we fail to understand what true beauty is, then we'll always be fighting to claim it in the most immodest of ways, whether it's by wearing suggestive clothing or by clothing ourselves with pride and self-righteousness.

My favorite chapter? Chapter 10, "Read Any Good Books Lately?" Bambi addresses well the issue of "arriving" at modesty. Her claim that we won't ever arrive, as in eliminating the need to examine our wardrobe and our hearts, but will constantly have to battle the temptations of the culture and our own sinfulness, is a good one and very insightful.

I also appreciate Bambi's exhortation to remember we're all at different places in our sanctification. Our calling is to be instruments of God's grace to each other, and  we speak best into the lives of those we love well. If you never speak a kind word to an acquaintance and then suddenly take issue with her about her dress, you're not going to be heard.

My least favorite chapter was Chapter 4, "Imperishable Beauty." This wasn't written by Bambi at all, but was a short story from the Grace Gems archive, which seemed a bit too maudlin for me.  I think Bambi makes her point well enough in her book that this wasn't needed.

Bambi's inclusion of wisdom from Calvin and Ryle and Lloyd-Jones and other older writers are a welcome bonus, as well as the extensive resource index.

Reading this book confirmed that we can have different ideas of modesty while still affirming a common spirit of modesty in our dress and behavior. There were points in which I disagreed with Bambi, like when she writes of her family's caution about women hugging men. I've never considered this an issue, and I think that most hugging done between Christian men and women is not the tight and tempting hugging that Bambi is concerned about. But, I do appreciate her desire to be cautious and not a stumbling block to others in any way.

Not Just Rules is an engaging and thoughtful study of modesty that is great to walk through with our daughters, and it provides much food for discussion. The best thing about it is it's constant focus on the heart and the truth that our thoughts on beauty and dress reflect how we see ourselves in Christ. And I wonder if this is what many Moms miss in teaching their daughters about God-honoring attire, for I can count on one hand the number of young ladies I've watched grow up dressing modestly who have not later surrendered to the fashions of the day at least in some small way. And small compromises usually give way to bigger ones.

Modesty is a divisive issue. It's the one area that we delight in looking like the pagan and will cry "Pharisee" as soon as we're reminded of the command to be set apart, to be in the world , but not of it. We long to strip the issue of modesty of any objectivity and make it completely subjective because God didn't give us a hem length on any page of the Bible.

So, if you already believe that any discussion of standards in this area are legalistic, then this book isn't for you, for you will not hear the heart of the matter, you will not read of gospel or grace, even though they're written all over the pages.

But if you want a basic resource to push you to clarify your own thoughts on modesty, to encourage you to dig deeper into the Word, to stand fast, to discuss with your children why you and your family dress the way you do, then No More Rules will help you do just that.

With love,
Trisha


Bambi's having a big giveaway today at www.nurseryofthenation.com. You can visit there to find out more about purchasing her e-book at an amazing price today.

Closer to Eternity With Him

My Mama left today. The hurt ran a little deeper as I wondered if we'd ever see each other again. It's an amazing mercy from the Lord that she made it back here this time. After suffering a stroke in January of 2012, she's fought one health battle after another.

A constant prayer of mine has been the plea to just let us be together, at least one more time. There's nothing like growing older to reveal how long you've been taking living for granted, to make you wish you had savored those past moments more (but I wonder if we ever think we savor them enough). We all know we're dying daily, that our next breath is in His hands, and there are no guarantees we'll see old age or our grandchildren, but even the most eternally-focused still presume they'll have tomorrow. (Consider the way we treat each other. Surely if we took seriously the truth that we can die anytime, we wouldn't leave so many wounded in our paths or be so unforgiving.)

I recently read of a 72 year old woman who was diagnosed with a fast progressing cancer. "Doctor, am I going to die?" she asked. "Yes," he replied--as if this was really news, or a professional was needed to make it official.

So time marches on, and the mother who gave me popsicles and a warm bath after I fell into a pond full of tadpoles, the mother who left the sweetest notes in my lunch box or on my dresser, the mother I could be so unkind to when I was a teenager, is now the fragile woman I help into the car. She's the woman who needs a cane and gets easily tired and lives with much pain. She's the woman whose blue eyes still shine so brightly, whose heart still loves me and my family so generously.

Edith Schaeffer was a prolific letter writer, and I've been enjoying her book, With Love, Edith. She makes this beautiful observation about time:

"The date looks unreal, both year and day. How time does fly. If this present life were all that we had , the quick passage of time would be most depressing. How glad I am that we are getting closer to the 'beginning of eternity with Him' rather than to the 'end of life.'"

Praise God that whether we're 2 or 22 or 72, if we belong to Jesus, we're only moving toward a beginning rather than an end. 

And you know what I'll tell you if you still have your mother or father around. Love them often. Love them well.

With love,

Trisha

Her Hand in His

It's been almost two years ago since I rushed to Virginia to see my Dad before he died. He had never met Jedediah, so my sense of urgency to just get to the hospital was overwhelming. I remember trying to contain myself as I waltzed pass the nurses' station into his room. (I knew they'd be coming after me.)

That first meeting was brief, but brief was better than nothing. Jedediah touched my Dad's arm, and that was good. A connection had been made, and though he won't remember it, the story is part of him.

My Mama's here now, and she's held Elijah for the first time, and he's wrapped his younger, tinier fingers around her older, fragile ones. One generation grasping another. 

"Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children."
~Alex Haley

Snowy April

When Titus 2 Women May Be Hard to Find

I watched my Emma carry Elijah outside today. She was "wearing" him, running sometimes, grinning big, simply delighting in him. She could teach me and other Moms a few things about being in the moment.

My thoughts flashed forward as I imagined her with her own children one day. The tears came as I thought of the loveliness of it all. And the tears came because I know she'll meet resistance. I might not always be there to whisper, "Well done, my daughter. Make a home for your family. Love your husband. Delight in these children. Welcome His gifts and train them up for His glory."

The tears came because I think when she's older a Titus 2 woman might be hard to find. She'll look around her, even in church, perhaps especially in church, and she'll see women who have pursued their own glory, who will tell her that for all these years, Scripture has been misunderstood, that women being home-centered, marrying and bearing children, was only a "cultural" thing that we're no longer called to because of our "freedom" in Christ Jesus.

She'll look around and find mothers who never found it God-honoring enough to wipe noses and prepare meals and disciple little hearts or wear out the carpet with their knees bowed before the Lord. She'll find the women who little valued having their children rise up and call them blessed, who instead longed to have the praise of the world, the validation and cheering on of other women, who couldn't wait to do something else to give their lives more "meaning."

She'll find women whose divided hearts have come full-circle as they embrace and dish out feminism, the Christian re-mix version, of course, sanitized, not so overtly offensive, but still reeking of self and echoing that famous question, "Did God really say?"

What happens when mothers who have already raised their children think homemaking and babies and newlyweds have nothing to do with them? When they pursue so many interests that they're never available, or they wrap themselves up so much in the study of their Bibles that their practical theology is anything but practical to the wife and mother who wants to know how to function on four hours of sleep or make a meal for 8 or heal a diaper rash or soothe a colicky baby?

There's a void. An emptiness. And all women suffer because of it.

I'm in the middle--old enough to be a Titus 2 woman to some, and yet, still needing the encouragement of older Titus 2 women. Instead of finding Titus 2 exhortations, I'm watching older women distance themselves so much from home-centered living that they recoil at the thought of teaching the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be discreet and chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the Word of God be not blasphemed.

I'm watching women dismiss our home-centered calling as they insist on blurring the distinctive roles God has given men and women, sometimes in the name of being "Gospel-focused," as though biblical womanhood is void of the Gospel dwelling in us richly.

As we age, our eyesight dims. But perhaps we need to be more concerned about losing sight of our Titus 2 responsibilities and being blinded by post-modern lies that leave us disqualified to teach the younger women.

Yes. A good Titus 2 woman might be hard to find, so what are we to do?

1) We can study what the Word says about biblical womanhood, with our daughters. Expose them to and discuss the distortions of womanhood (including the ones that declare a girl shouldn't be educated, etc.), that they would not be taken captive by man's wisdom or lean on their own understanding.

2) We can pray for God's abundant provision of Titus 2 women in our daughters' lives, women who have a love for home and who desire to share their love of sound doctrine, favorite parenting tips, and recipes or crafting skills.

3) We can give them mobile teachers, books written by sound Titus 2 authors who will encourage them when the pressure and negativity from without weighs heavy on them.

4) We can confidently teach them to be home-centered, not wavering or doubting or changing position with every new book or blog post we read. We can ground them in the Word of God and teach them well while they are with us how to manage a home, feast regularly on the Word, use their gifts to the glory of God for their families and church and community, learn new skills, love and serve others.

5) We can remind them that biblical womanhood goes against the grain, that many women, Christian women, chafe and writhe under it. They will meet resistance, and they will often feel very alone.

6) We must model contentment and joy in our own callings as wives and mothers, examining our hearts for remnants of feminist-shaped ideology that have contaminated our theology and influenced the vision of womanhood we're passing to our daughters.

7) We must remember this duty to be Titus 2 women, and be available to the younger women around us, offering them encouragement and wisdom from our years as a wife and mother. We can guard against the belief that it's holier to spend hours a day in the Word than it is to teach a younger woman how to plan meals for her family or refrain from being a busybody. (We would never think it wise of a man to neglect his work to study the Word so that he leaves his family without an income, and yet we often pressure women to do deep theological studies while their children remain unfed, the clothes aren't done, and thoughtful food prep isn't taking place. I'm not speaking of basic feasting and meditating on the Word, which is what most younger Moms only have time for.)

"It is doubtful that the Apostle Paul had in mind Bible classes or seminars or books when he spoke of teaching younger women. He meant the simple things, the everyday example, the willingness to take time from one's own concerns to pray with the anxious mother, to walk with the way of the cross--with its tremendous demands of patience, selflessness, lovingkindness--and to show her, in the ordinariness of Monday through Saturday, how to keep a quiet heart.

These lessons will come perhaps most convincingly through rocking a baby, doing some mending, cooking a supper, or cleaning a refrigerator. Through such an example, one young woman--single or married, Christian or not--may glimpse the mystery of charity and the glory of womanhood, so perfectly exemplified in the response of a humble village girl of long ago when she said: 'Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word' (Luke 1:38)."
~Elisabeth Elliot

With love,
Trisha

Maple Oatmeal Raisin Skillet Cookie

Ink's not much of a cake guy. He prefers pies. Or oatmeal raisin cookies.

So,  for his 18th birthday celebration, I found this wonderful skillet cookie recipe to try, and it was a hit. Skillet cookies are amazing.

Because it was late at night, I didn't wait for the cookie to cool. Thus, we enjoyed leaning  and melting candles. And if you have an eye for detail, you'll notice only 17 candles. Late night + hot cookie + melting candles=inability to count correctly. It's ok, though. It was all good.

Maple Oatmeal Raisin Skillet Cookie

• 1/2 cup unsalted butter
• 1 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 tsp maple extract
• 1 egg
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp kosher salt
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup old fashioned oatmeal
• 1/2 cup raisins
• 1/2 cup walnuts, toasted

Toppings (optional)

• Raw Sugar
• Greek Yogurt (or your favorite kind of yogurt)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Heat a cast iron skillet over medium heat.  Melt the butter and stir frequently until the butter browns.  Stir in the brown sugar and maple extract.  Remove from the heat and let cool for about 8 minutes.  (you want the pan to be warm but not hot.)  Crack an egg into the skillet and whisk into the mixture. Add the cinnamon, salt, and baking soda and stir until combined.  Add the flour to the skillet and stir slowly until incorporated.  Add your mix-ins: oatmeal, walnuts, and raisins.  Combine. Pat evenly over the skillet.  Top with raw sugar if desired. Bake in a 375 degree oven for 14-18 minutes, until set.  Serve warm with yogurt if desired.

~Baker Bettie

Enjoy!

With love,

Trisha

Krispy Kreme Baby

***photo by our dear friend, Nikko

When We Call God a Liar

I do not know why some people think that it is meritorious to express doubt in matters of religion. They think that it is somehow vain or impolite to be certain and that it is humble and therefore desirable to say, "I do not know...I hope so...I would like to believe...I think..." Nothing could be more faulty. The humble person is the one who bows before God's revelation and accepts it because of who God is. It is a proud man who thinks he knows enough about anything to doubt God. Besides, God says that doubt is the equivalent of calling Him a liar; it is as much as to say that His word is untrustworthy. (cf. 1 John 5:10).

James Montgomery Boice, The Christ of the Empty Tomb

Six Things That Surprised Me About Parenting Teens

Our oldest son turns 18 on Friday. Yes, his fingerprints on the wall have become fingerprints on the keyboard, as he faithfully slings the ink, the words, that leave me in wonder at the gifts God has given him.

I would love to go back to day one of becoming a Mom and know then what I know now. But I take much comfort in God's perfect pacing of my sanctification, and His wisdom and sovereign care in writing our stories.

Yet, navigating the often turbulent teen years has surprised me in quite a few ways. I expected much, but here are a few things I didn't know:

1) We'd really disagree about music and other stuff: I remember the arguments my parents had with some of my siblings over music. And rightly so. Much of the music was offensive and dishonoring to the Lord. But I just knew our children would like the same music we did and agree with us about everything else. When I realized this wasn't true, and yet, our children still honored the Lord in their choices, I stopped taking our differences personally, and began to enjoy learning from my sons.

2) It could be so hard that I would be tempted to employ the silent treatment, and other passive-aggressive soul-starving methods of non-communication: Yes. There have been times that butting heads has felt like clashing hearts, with a pain and frustration so intense that I didn't think I could bear it. Those are moments that leave you with more questions than answers and drive you to your knees as almost nothing else can. I'm grateful the Holy Spirit kept me from letting the sun go down on my wrath and has kept our hearts tender towards one another.

3) We would enjoy each other's company and talk with one another so openly: I heard so much about the teen years being that time when children shut down and shut you out, but I'm thankful to God that I have teenagers who can't stop telling me about what they're reading and learning, who let me know when I have a log in my eye, who tell me when I'm parenting inconsistently, who want to know my opinion, who make me laugh, who like being with me.

4) Perfection doesn't appear at 16, but neither does rebellion. I will be the first to tell you to teach your children first-time obedience early on. "Obedience is all the way, right away, and with a happy spirit." This is exactly what I tell our younger children. Somewhere along the way, influenced by books and other teachings, I began to equate obedience and maturity with perfection. But our children will not leave our homes perfectly sanctified. They're still pilgrims-on-the-way, just like we are. They're growing in grace, just like we are. Yet, it's easy to hold them to a different standard as we forget our own ongoing sanctification.

5) There would be so much grace and forgiveness: Satan often whispers to me in those moments when I've blown it again to just give up repenting (since I have to do it so often) and move on. Or my pride rises up and wants to justify my fleshly responses.  BUT, years of asking forgiveness and repenting before my children for having sinned against them and our God, has reaped a most beautiful only-by-the-grace-of-God thing--they do it, too. The Holy Spirit is at work in them, convicting them of sin and moving them to keep short accounts. And, oh, the GRACE they extend to me...it's simply overwhelming at times.

6) There would always be more to learn: No matter how many years you've been parenting, the learning never stops. The only thing I'm an expert at is knowing that godly parenting can't be confined to a method. Rather, it rests on His wisdom and grace and the manna that doesn't come years in advance, but rather day by day.

I have many more teen years to parent through. No doubt it will be hard. There will be more tears, and even more prayers. There will be disappointments and heartaches and perhaps many changes. But He is faithful, His mercies are new every morning, His grace is sufficient, and He has promised to finish the good work He has started in us. Thanks be to God!

With love,
Trisha

Thankful Thursday-20 Days from Now

To be silent over God's mercies is to incur the guilt of ingratitude; it is to act as basely as the nine lepers, who after they had been cured of their leprosy, returned not to give thanks unto the healing Lord. To forget to praise God is to refuse to benefit ourselves; for praise, like prayer, is one great means of promoting the growth of spiritual life.

~C. H. Spurgeon

                                                                              ****

20 days.

In that short time, God-willing, I'll have the joy of seeing my Mama walk through those airport gates, and she'll be delighted to see Elijah and hold him for the first time.

What a gift.

While we wait, life goes on, busy and full, reminding us of God's endless mercies and affirming the comforting truth that this world is not our home.

Ink's recovery from his wisdom teeth went so well--no complications at all. When I took him for his check-up, the surgeon was even surprised (and pleased) that the holes had already closed up.

We walked out of the office only to discover our van battery was dead. Thankfully, AAA was there in less than 10 minutes and replaced the battery, and we were soon on our way. I praise God for CONVENIENCE. Those few extra dollars I paid to have the mechanic take care of everything right there were more than worth it!

 I'm thankful our children love to have Sarge as their Bible study companion.

 I'm thankful for the reminder from a dear friend that less than perfect, i.e. blurry, shots are worth keeping when they capture moments like this.

 I'm thankful for mashed bananas and rice cereal and high chairs.

 I'm thankful to open the refrigerator and see the lunch Ink prepared the night before to take to work. It shouts "responsibility" to me, and it's a blessing to watch our young men be men.

 I'm thankful for children who love to watch Daddy eat on those night when he gets home extra late, and who can't resist the impulse to mooch.

 I'm thankful for new dining chairs and little men who want to be like the big men.

 I'm thankful for twin mugs, one for me and one for Tami. They're not theologically correct, perhaps, but maybe God will have me singing praises to Him while dancing in a chocolate fountain.

 I'm thankful for pink roses from Tami.

I'm thankful for notes like this, sweet graces, that humble me and remind me again what a great mercy it is that God made me a mother, trusting this wretched sinner with discipling tender souls for His glory. Oh, how I fail over and over to be like Jesus to our children, and yet, they extend me such grace and are the hands and feet of Christ to me.

I'm thankful that a most precious houseguest arrives tonight, and that for the first time, I'll get to hug a Pliego.

I'm thankful for Paul Tripp's book Instruments in the Redeemer's Hands. You really should read this one. Like, right now. :)

With love,
Trisha

How Many Sisters Does It Take

...to care for baby after his bath?

Did You Hear Janie Has a New Wheat Grinder?

Ok. So maybe you're not coveting a wheat grinder, but what about someone's book collection? Her house? Her recent vacation? Her freedom? Her hours of "alone" time?

Are you coveting someone's family size or income? Maybe you're coveting the atmosphere in another's woman's home or the way she finds the best deals at garage sales or the number of friends she has. Maybe you're coveting her way with words, her baking skills, or her knack for posting Facebook updates that get hundreds of "likes,"--you know, deep stuff like, "just painted my nails chartreuse."

Nothing is out of reach of our sinful hearts. We can envy big thing or small things, the most serious things or the most ridiculous. When someone has something we want, and our wanting leads to sinning, we've already forgotten Who the Giver of the gift is. We forget we're bristling against God's sovereign care of us. We mimic the sibling who throws herself on the floor and screams, "That's not fair!"

We just do it with a bit more self-control, at least on the outside.

But what if every time we're tempted to covet what someone else has and withhold good words of affirmation, to refuse to rejoice with those who rejoice, or to simply ignore another's blessings, we remember it is from His Hand that all these blessings flow?

"Women tend to grouse about the blessings God give to others. But if we looked at it in those terms, that God has blessed Janie with a new wheat grinder, we would probably be much less likely to complain and covet. It's much easier to complain when we think circumstances happen at random, than when we remember that God brings all things to pass."
~Denise Sproul, Tending Your Garden

With love,
Trisha

When No One At Church Is Just Like You

My family is a mixed bag.

Some of us love sweet while others prefer salty. Some of us are fair-haired and light-eyed while others are olive-skinned and brown-eyed. One child loves horses while another prefers dogs. Some of our children love singing. Others do not. Some are natural organizers while some struggle just to keep their sock drawers in order. Some are diligent in their lessons. Others require prodding.

But, in the midst of all of our differences, we've never looked at one another and said, "We're just not enough alike. I must leave this family to find others who are exactly like I am." Instead we remember God has put us here together. He has formed our family according to His perfect wisdom. We learn from each other's differences and meet each other's needs, refusing to let differences be points of division. 

Isn't this what most families do?

And yet, when it comes to our church families, we have different expectations. We want others members to mirror our family size, our season of life, our tastes in books, our disabilities, our introvert or extrovert tendencies, and so on. 

In my own small church body, no two families are exactly the same. Our family has nine children, ranging in ages from 17 to 6 months. Another family has no children at home, but lives with their aging parents, giving them constant, loving care. Some of the families know what it's like to have adopted children or have a child with a disability. We're different, often radically different. 

This used to bother me. I longed to have another mom in the body who was parenting children the same ages as ours, whose family landscape looked more like mine. But the tie that binds is not Sally's liking the same things I do or having a family that mirrors mine, but rather who we are in Christ. 

Paul reminds us that each part of the body is important, and the body suffers if even one part is missing. While he was referring to gifts, the principle applies in other ways, too.

The single woman is part of the body. The mother with many littles is part of the body. The divorced mother is part of the body. The woman who loves theology is part of the body, as is the woman who has no clue about antinomianism or latitudinarianism. No matter how "different" we are, the fact that we've been redeemed means that He has given us the blessing of being just right for one another. Will we choose to be so?

When our eyes are fixed on ourselves, our differences are magnified to divisive proportions. Those differences keep us in bondage to self. They're devices Satan uses to foster discontentment and church-hopping. But when our eyes are fixed on Christ, we see those differences as opportunities--opportunities to learn from one another, love each other, encourage each other, to dwell together in unity.

We see the big picture of making it all about Him and not about Us.

So, when we're looking for a church family, let's not be so quick to find out if it has a singles group, a group for those who hate red jello, or a mothers-of-many group. Rather, let's focus on whether the Gospel is being preached, remembering God's wisdom in forming church families often includes having its members look very different from one another.

With love,

Trisha

Fill Their Minds with Scripture

**Luke was holding Elijah one morning while doing his Bible reading. Then Elijah wanted to take part of the feasting, too, although more with the intention to crumple some pages. I love this visual reminder to faithfully set the Word of God before our children.

Why I Welcome Intrusive Fertility-Related Questions and Those Pats to the Pregnant Belly

I've heard plenty of rude comments and questions in my years as a mother.

"Don't you know what causes that?"
"Don't you have a television?"
"Better you than me."
"Are you done, yet?"
"Are you trying to get your own television show?"
"What are you trying for, a baseball team?" (said not so affectionately by one of our pastoral candidates)
"You must be rich to have that many children."

I know the impulse is to say, "This is really none of your business." I've been tempted to do this myself. But I've noticed a disturbing trend in a world that calls men to be effeminate and women to be the men and life to be snuffed out for convenience and the right amount of money:

The invisible pregnant woman.

I remember the attention a pregnant woman used to get. Perhaps I'm speaking of exceptions right now, but I fear my observations are becoming the norm.

Men used to defer to pregnant women. They'd let us go first. They'd open the door. I remember Target stores having special "stork" parking spaces for mothers-to-be. Women would ask questions like, "When are you due?" "Is this your first?" They'd say things like, "Congratulations!" "How wonderful!"

And yes, women would often touch the belly.

But the pregnant woman is becoming invisible. Men charge past. Women ignore. There is no wonder at the truth that another human being is growing life within her, because there is no wonder at life itself or the distinction between the sexes. This is happening even in our churches.

Feminism has declared women are no different from men and that our bodies are our own. Abortion has declared life is worthless. And every one of us will be forced at some point, feminist or not, to taste their poisonous fruits, whether it's around the dinner table when our daughters insist they want to be single and pursue their dreams and not be shackled with the burden of children, or when they're forced to give their lives on the front lines of a battlefield. We'll taste it when men let the door slam in our faces or refuse to give up their seats. We're tasting it in a multitude of ways, right here, right now.

So when others take notice that you're pregnant, rude questions or not, it is an opportunity to declare the beauty of LIFE, of God-given, God-fashioned, LIFE, and of the giving of one's life for another.

When a woman reaches out to touch your swollen belly, often she's expressing that hunger to connect in some way to this wonder, this glory, of created life, that other women and society itself have convinced her is insignificant and unnecessary.

Too many women for too long have tried to squash that God-given instinct, the hunger to be fruitful, and for some that desire will emerge at the oddest of times, like when she sees a pregnant woman next to her in the grocery store.

While I was shopping at Costco, a woman noticed Elijah. She was enamored with him. And then, this 60-something year old stranger, asked if she could hold him. It was a bit awkward, but I passed him into her arms. She then told me, "I've never had any children of my own." For her, this was a moment to embrace LIFE, and God had given me the privilege of being part of that.

In our being fruitful, we are given an opportunity to keep LIFE before the world, to keep the conversation going and direct it to His truths, to make visible what the world is trying to ignore or destroy.

Because sometimes the most powerful protests against the lies of this world are found in wearing our womanhood differently as we embrace the gift of children and answer rude questions with a smile and tolerate pregnant-belly pats cheerfully. It's found in remembering that our bodies are not our own, but are to be used for His glory, including publicly affirming the goodness of God in giving LIFE and the joy of giving up one's life for another.

With love,
Trisha



***I do not know the pain of answering hard questions about infertility or other fertility-related struggles. Obviously, my post is not addressing this. I would say, however, that even these are opportunities to point to God's sovereign care over us, our trust in Him, and the power of the gospel.

***yes, there are many ways to be fruitful, but Scripture uses the word in this way, too, "Be fruitful and multiply."

Ella's Big Week

Ella, 7, had a big week as she lost her first top front tooth (isn't she lovely?) and proved herself to be stellar "buddy" material after successfully changing Sarge's diapers and getting him dressed. It's a beautiful thing from the Lord to have daughters who delight in caring for babies, who see these tiny ones as gifts from His hand, who will often reply, when asked to do something, "But I'm holding a baby." (Because we all know that trumps everything.)

It looks like Sarge is pretty happy, too.

Seven Things

I just got home from taking Ink to have his four wisdom teeth removed. Praise God all went well with the procedure. Now we're dealing with the painful part--the recovery. A few things observed:

1) Four teeth removed at one time, though much less of an ordeal in the long run, still stinks.

2) When you're part of a large family and have your wisdom teeth removed, you have an audience for everything. Removing gauze. First bites of food. First sips of drink. And the Little People who make up that audience like to give a play by play of your behavior and your facial expressions, as they also declare that they don't want to go through what you're going through, but they'd love some of your Gatorade and ice cream.

3) For the first and probably last time, I controlled the iPod on the way home.

4) Ink's surgeon was a cool guy, even putting on Ink's driving cap BEFORE he put on the ice pack.

5) A mother never gets used to seeing her child in pain, no matter how old that child is.

6) "Oh, Mom," I told my mother, "he looks pitiful." Ink managed to get out something akin to "Humph."

7) Ink's passion for books runs deep. His first concern when we started driving home (and he's still a bit out of it)? Where I put his book.

Please pray God would give us all thankful hearts, and that He would spare Ink complications, providing quick healing.

With love,
Trisha

Wait! That's Part of My Heart You're Takin' to Texas!

Almost 15 years ago we moved to this desert land. That was the last time I had to leave a bosom friend behind. You know. The kind of friend with whom you don't need words, with whom you feel completely safe.

My dear friend gave me a Mary Englebreit mug when we parted. It shows one girl pulling the pigtails of another and says, "Pals." I still drink from that cup, and I never fail to think of my friend. Even now when we see each other, perhaps once every several years, it's as though we've never been apart.

Not even two years ago, God graciously gave me another friend like this. Our hearts were connected through our blogs way before she stood at my front door, before we sat on my couch together and cried over God's providence in moving her from Texas to NM. From the start, she blessed me in word and deed. I found I could trust her, and after having dealt with the very painful ending of some friendships, her kindness and steadfastness ministered so sweetly to my heart.

When I returned home from my Dad's funeral in Virginia, I was greeted by flowers from my sweet Tami. She even brought groceries over. Yes. She's THAT kind of friend. She's seen me through my Dad's death, my cousin's death, a miscarriage, church challenges, and a pregnancy and birth.

She's walked on my dirty carpet and sat on my worn couch. She's feasted in my cramped dining room and has seen my bedroom, with its piles of books and stacks of stuff.

She knows my fears. My hopes. My struggles. My longings.

She's loved on my children and laughed with them. She even LIKES them. And I know if something happened to me and my Mountain Man, she'd care for our children and love them like her own. (After the initial panic of such an increase in family size, of course.)

And her family? How much do we love them? Well, we'd vacation with them in the same house in a heartbeat. You know that's love. Her children warm my heart and her husband and Mountain Man get along together so well. Yes, my Mountain Man and our children will feel the emptiness, too.

Tami and I are classic opposites. She's a dark-eyed and dark-haired beauty, and I'm not. She was born organized, and I fight to be so to this very day. She'll eat anything except fish, and I'll eat fish and very few other things.

She's the kind of gal whose home is always spotless. Mine? Well, not so much. She's a pro at technology, having her lists on an iPad or phone, while I prefer good 'ol pad and paper. She's an extrovert with lots of friends. I'm an introvert who cautiously guards the entrance to my heart.

She balances me out, tells me like it is, points me to Jesus, over and over. And she says I do the same for her. This is the bond that hold us together, our love for Jesus, our being His hands and feet to each other and cheering each other on and picking each other up.

She's seen me at my worst and loves me anyway. She feasts daily on God's grace, so that grace spills over to me. Perhaps one of the biggest ways she's poured out this grace on me is enduring my limited availability.

Friendship with a mom of many is often different. I lost a friend once because she couldn't understand my delay in responding to an e-mail. This Mama of 9 just isn't  as available for girlfriend get-togethers. I'm not as apt to talk on the phone for extended periods of time. I'm not always able to be there when needed. In fact I know I let Tami down as she spent her first months here trying to adjust. But she continued to love me faithfully anyway.

Tonight we'll break bread together for the last time for some time. I'm piling on the waterproof mascara and will try my best not to embarrass anyone. But, my heart is stuck on my sleeve, and when Tami walks out the door tonight, a piece of my heart will go with her.

Yes, tomorrow, part of my heart will be in Texas. Not because I know and love that state, but rather because the friend who knows me, and yet, still loves me so steadfastly (which is so amazing to me!), who shines so brightly with the love of Jesus, will be there.

Of course my advice to you if you have a friend like this is to hug her real tight the next time you see her, let her know what a blessing she is, and make time to have that lunch date...real soon.

With love,
Trisha

How to Judge a Preacher

"May I beg you carefully to judge every preacher, not by his gifts, not by his elocutionary powers, not by his status in society, not by the respectability of his congregation, not by the prettiness of his church, but by this--does he preach the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation?"
~C. H. Spurgeon