To choose thankfulness in a time of trial, disappointment, or sadness, is an act of praise.  It is so easy to give into the negative and wallow in disappointment and frustration.  To choose gratitude, and therefore joy, is to rise above the terra firma where, for this little while, the Prince of Darkness reigns to walk in joy with the Prince of Peace.

“Father,

You know my frame and remember that I am dust.  Today, I choose your strength to take the place of my weakness.  By your power, I will choose to be thankful no matter my circumstances.  As the hymn from my childhood declares, ‘I need you every hour.’

~ Amen”

“Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”  1Thess. 5:16-18

Hope.

No matter what I see, there is hope.

Abraham realized his body was as good as dead, but…

Against all hope, he hoped in Him who is able to raise the dead. (Romans 4:19-20)

Hope.

When I give in to despair, I am exalting my circumstances above God.

Hope is knowing God is greater.

Hope is trusting He is good.

Hope is walking in freedom.

Hope is eternal because as long as God is there is hope.

“Father,

Today, teach me about hope.  I love you.

Amen.”

Puzzle the Puppy is almost one year old.  I don’t know what I will call her then, “Puzzle the Dog” just does not have the same ring to it.  Oh, well…I think I am entitled to call her “Puzzle the Puppy” just a little while longer - at least until she stops destroying everything in the house with her incessant chewing.

Puzzle the Puppy is, like so many beings in my home, quite…spirited.  She is certainly capable of obedience, but it is always a final option for her.  She is not the kind of dog who will simply follow her master due to a sense of loyalty or devotion.  Obedience must be required of her. 

She does love me, however.  Of this, I am sure.  She is also absolutely adorable and if things were different, I would always have her right by my side.  As I write this post, I am sitting on my porch swing, laptop across my knees, watching the sun set on a perfect early summer evening here in Tennessee.  I can see Puzzle the Puppy from here by the soft light of the lamp in the foyer.  She is the closest (comfortable) place she can be to me- the piano bench.  She would really love to be out here with me but she can’t, because you see…

Puzzle the Puppy only obeys as a last resort.  I can’t trust her. 

If I allow her on the porch with me, I know she will take off running the moment she sees a bird, or a jogger, or Heaven forbid that obnoxious little white dog from down the street.  This morning my husband came inside red faced and panting after taking her out for a moment.  She saw a bird across the street and ran.  Then, she heard a dog bark and kept running.  My husband told me he had to run faster and longer than he had in a long, long time just to catch her and that in his words, I was “almost a very rich woman” because it came close to killing him.

Each morning I see a man walking two dogs down my street.  The first, he guides by a leash.  The second has a leash as well, but the leash is simply draped over the dog’s back.  The dog is, in essence, walking himself and yet in all the times I have seen the three of them on their morning walk, never have I seen that dog stray from his master’s side.

You see, obedience brings freedom.

So, as I sit here watching Puzzle the Puppy sleep on the piano bench, I am reminded of how much she is like me.  Too often, I am determined to have my own way.  I know what God wants from me but instead of simply obeying out of adoration for my precious Savior, I am reluctant at best and flat out defiant at my worst.

All the while, the Savior must shake his head and say, “What I really want is for you to be free, if only you would obey…”

  “I run in the path of your commands,
       for you have set my heart free.”   Psalm 119:32

“Behold, a son shall be born to you who shall be a man of rest, and I will give him rest from all his enemies all around.  His name shall be Solomon (Peaceful), for I will give peace and quietness to Israel in his days.”   1 Chronicles 22:9

What an incredible blessing Solomon received and yet, he still ended his life in a complete wreck saying, “All is vanity!”

Why is it human beings are so prone to getting into trouble when life is especially good?

Rest.  There should be nothing inherently evil about rest.  God rested.  The Sabbath rest was given as a command.  Throughout Scripture He says, “I will give you rest.”  In Hebrews, he even describes Heaven as “rest”.

Maybe we fail to realize that all things are to be dedicated to the glory of God.

Even rest.

“Father,

I could really use some rest.  Thank you for reminding me to be watchful against sin when it finally comes.  May my every moment today be dedicated to you.”  Amen

Until a few weeks ago, I thought the fig trees were dead.  It is nothing short of miraculous to me that now, thick vibrant green stems have shot up from the dry, brown branches.  Huge leaves, many larger than my hand, shelter plump green figs.

What a picture of life and the work of God’s grace.  Just when all  hope seems lost, and that which is dearest to us appears utterly dead, new life springs forth.  There are no hopeless situations with Him, no lost causes.

“I did not say to the seed of Jacob, ‘Seek Me in vain.’”  Isaiah 45:19

“The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous, and His ears are open to their cry…”  Psalm 34:15

Sometimes, it is good to look back.  We so easily forget the path we have tread.  The memories of God’s goodness, counsel, instruction and deliverance throughout our lives just…slip away.

God warned the Israelites of this very thing just before they entered The Promised Land.

“Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.”  Deut. 4:9

Lately, I have been reading back through my journals to remind myself of all the landmarks along the trail of my life. 

This blog has been very quiet because I have been in a strange place.  One evening, I lay my weary head down to pray and found that I no longer had the energy to keep the pace I had set for myself in life.  It was time to stop; time to narrow life down to the basics once again, regroup, and get my bearings. 

So, I was wife.  I was mother.  I was master to Puzzle the Puppy.  I dug in my garden and as I pulled weed after weed from beds long neglected by the previous owners of this home, I weeded out some sorrows in my own heart.  As I brought life and beauty back to the yard, God used it to bring life and beauty back into my spirit. 

Then, I sat down in the shade of a tree as the wind gently coaxed subtle music from the bamboo chime above my head and my children busied themselves peeling apart layer after layer of wild onions from the yard and I read, and read, and read.

And now, I am looking back and looking forward.  I am letting go of that which I cannot change and breathing deeply again.

This morning as I sipped tea and watched the sun rise I suddenly knew that this blog was supposed to go back to the beginning too.  In the beginning, my intention was that this blog would simply be a reflection of the loving words, and sometimes gentle corrections God spoke to me in the quiet of the morning before anyone else was awake in that holy hour when the sun rises.

I did not really understand much about blogs back then.  All I knew was that many people seemed to use them as on-line journals.  I was baffled by the concept.  “Why would anyone post their journal entries for the world to read?”  I asked myself.  I guard my own journal with fierce privacy.  It is the place where I can speak the deepest fears, sorrows, and frustrations of my heart freely with no fear of judgment or misinterpretation.  There is something incredibly liberating about simply being utterly honest in a forum where no one gets hurt.

Some days, I shudder to think that I will one day die and my family and perhaps people I don’t even know will thumb through those pages where my heart was laid bare and trace the path of my life word by word.  I completely understand why little girls buy journals with tiny silver locks and then hide the key.  Then…hide the journal under their pillow just to be safe.  I refuse to read the diary of Anne Frank because I think it would be a young girl’s worst nightmare to find that her most intimate thoughts had not only been read but published to be perused by millions. 

Recently, I read in the paper that some of Saddam Hussein’s journal writings from when he was incarcerated in the three years before his execution have been published.  I have no misguided sympathy for the brutal dictator but I still felt it was some kind of violation to publish his journal.  As a matter of fact, it seems even worse to me than the pictures my government published of him doing his laundry in his underwear.

Some things are meant to be private.  Underwear and journals are two of those things.

But…as I go back to the beginning, I am going to partially break my own rule.  I am going to crack open journals old and new and pluck from their pages entries that record the quiet moments when God has spoken to me as the sun rose and I sat with a cup of tea in my hand. 

I am going to look back to keep the loving words of my Savior from slipping away from my heart.

See you tomorrow…..

This past Sunday, my husband and I were the substitue teachers for the four year old Sunday school class.  This is the class our youngest, The Queen of Sass, attends.  The lesson was on the Passover meal and arrest of Christ the night before His crucifixtion.  All of the kids were sitting with me on the floor and as I told the story, I came to the part about Judas.

“Then, one of Jesus’ friends decided to help the bad guys hurt Jesus!”  I said.

The Queen of Sass did not like that one bit.

“When I get to Heaven,” she said with a snarl, “I’m gonna beat Judas up!”

That’s my girl, all fire and sass.  I have no doubt that one day she will take on the injustices in the world.  Until then, you guys pray for me, okay?

I am braiding hair and the kids are watching a nature show.  Six year old Jeremiah is inspired.

“Mommy, I really want a fruit bat.  Can I have a fruit bat, please?”

“No, Jeremiah.  I don’t think we can have a fruit bat.”

“Awwww…….”

A moment later he has another idea.

“Mommy, can I have a baboon?  I really want a baboon.  They are so cute!”

“No, Jeremiah.  You may not have a  baboon.”

“Awwww…….”

“What about a mouse?  Can I have a mouse, please?”

“Miah, why do you want a mouse?  We already have a dog!”

Now, he turns on the tears. 

“But I want a pet of my own!”

“I’m sorry, Miah, but I can not have even one more thing in this house I have to take care of and that is exactly what would happen.  Meghan brought that crab home from school full of promises to take care of it and if I did not go in occasionally and squirt water in the bowl it would be dead.”

Which reminds me…

“Meghan, get up and go pooper scoop the crab house.”

He sulks for a moment and then picks up a book on animals to browse.  Suddenly, he is excited.

“What about this!” he says.  “Can I have one of these!”

He opens the page to a large photo of a Caracal, pointed ears upright and fangs bared.  Claudine, who is having her hair braided, is horrified. 

“Mommy, please say no,” she pleads.  “Please say no!”

“No, Jeremiah.  You can not have that cat.”

“Why not?” he whines.

“Why not?  Why not?  Because it has FANGS, Jeremiah.  We live in the city.  Zoning would not even allow that thing here.”

“Awww……”

He flips through the pages again for a moment and at last finds evidence he is sure will sway my opinion about the mouse he proposed a moment before.  He holds up a two page spread of baby rats at varying ages of development in their nests.

“Look Mommy!  You could have babies!!!!  Don’t you want to have a mouse?”

“Miah, do you really think that is going to help convince me?  Do you think I would be happy about having mouse babies?”

“Yeah!” he says.

“No, Miah.  You may not have a mouse.”

“What about a snake, or a lizard?”

Then, Claudine has had enough. 

“Miah, quit asking for wild stuff.”

Amen.

The phone rang.  It was my sister.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Okay,” I sighed.  “Lately, I just feel like I have 50 kids instead of five.”

“Hmmmm….Five kids to the tenth power.”

Sometimes, that is just the way it is.  It seems to me our family goes through seasons when we are just hit with one thing after another.  My kids were back in school after their three week break for one day before illness after illness began to make the rounds. 

Day after day I have been caring for sick children.  Yesterday alone, one daughter came down with strep throat and my eldest son sustained a possible broken wrist in gym class.  This morning when I approached the front desk of the pediatrician’s office, the sweet receptionist clunked down our 4″ thick file and said, “Who is it today, Mrs. Gragg?”

I was there yesterday too.

And the day before…….. 

I will probably be there tomorrow to have an x-ray of the wrist.

But this afternoon was one of those sweet, sweet lulls in the storm that makes me infinitely glad to be a mother of a house full of kids.

The four-year old Queen of Sass sauntered up to me, with all the seriousness an individual can invoke while wearing a Hello Kitty bike helmet with actual ears, to make an announcement.

“Mommy, I want you to take off my training wheels.”

“Okay,” I said.  “Are you ready to fall?  Everyone falls when they are learning to ride a bike.”

She thought for a moment.  “No,” she said.  Then, she walked away.

Five minutes later, she was back.

“Mommy, I am ready for you to take off my training wheels.”

“Are you ready to fall?”

“Yes.  I am ready to fall.”

“Okay.  Rule number one:  Don’t be afraid to fall.”

I grabbed a wrench, flipped the bike on its handle bars and removed the training wheels under the watchful eyes of several kids.  Then, I handed it to her and said, “Rule number two:  Never stop peddling.  The moment you stop, you will fall.”

“Okay,” she said.  Then, she grabbed the bike and walked it to the back yard.

“Look at her go,” her oldest brother said, his voice full of wonder.  “She looks like she has been doing that every day of her life.”

I took her to a slight incline in the back yard, gave a few last pointers, grabbed the seat and off we went.  A moment later, I felt her gain her balance and I took my hand off the seat.  To the shock of everyone, she peddled several feet before she fell.  Cheers rang all around as she was congratulated and hugged by all her siblings.  We tried again, and she doubled her distance before crashing to the ground.  On the third time, she went further still.

Her siblings were full of encouragement and celebration, and baby girl…..well, she was absolutley radiant.

And I remembered so many things.  I remembered changing her diarreha soaked clothing in Haiti again and again.  I remembered trying so hard to be brave as I looked at her frail little body.  I remember slipping a size 3 month onseie over my two-year old daughter’s head to find that it fit.  I cried then.

I remembered bringing her home and the first time she cried when she was dirty.  “She finally knows someone will come,” I thought.  I remembered how for the longest time she could not walk across the floor without falling flat on her face.  She could not climb the stairs, or jump, or stand on one foot.

Then, the tide began to turn.  She fell less, then she ran.  She began to climb the stairs…and lots of other things.  She learned to pump a swing at age three.  Last week, she turned a cartwheel for the first time.

And today…today my baby girl learned to ride her bike.

And I was reminded that sometimes, we have to just keep peddling to remain upright and that we have to be willing to fall before we can fly.

“So, why’d you do it?” he asked as he slowly slid the needle deeper and deeper into one of the muscles in my mid-back.

“Why did I do what?”

“Natural childbirth,” he responded.  “Why did you do natural childbirth?”

“Oh,” I said as I endeavored to remain perfectly still.  “Ironically, I don’t like needles.  I was more afraid of the epidural needle than the childbirth.  I always wondered, you know, what happens if you sneeze while they are putting in the needle?”

“Hmmmm.”

Then the needle reached the right spot. 

“Ouch,” I said.

Immediately he stopped the descent and I felt him squeeze a little of the medicine into the knotted muscle, quickly remove the needle and move on to the next spot a few inches above the first.

“Okay, here is number two,” he said.

There was a sudden jab and then the needle descended again. 

“You know what you are doing, right?” I asked.

“Well, more or less…” he responded.

This, I found hilarious.  I wanted to laugh out loud but I just grinned.  After all, I needed to remain very, very still.

Earlier, the nurse had swept into the room just long enough to make six tiny marks on my back and neck.  All were on the right side of my spine, the lowest positioned just at mid-back, the highest right up at the base of my skull.  The doctor was saving the top two for last because those muscles were the tightest.  I had spent the week before vacillating between utter dread of the pain I knew would be partnered with those top two injections and outrageous hope that I would walk out of the doctor’s office afterwards a new woman.  It did not take long to get over the fear of the potential pain involved with the procedure but tempering my expectations of the results was a more difficult battle.  Finally, I told myself to get a grip; that it was some steroid shots, not The Second Coming. 

Numbers three and four went by fairly easily.  Five was a bit more difficult.  Then, it was time for number six. 

“This one will go in pretty close to the base of your skull.  Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.”

A quick, strong jab penetrated the muscle that was as hard as a rock.  Then, the needle was on the move.  This time, I made myself wait as long as I could before I gave him the signal to stop.  This one, I desperately, desperately wanted to work.  When I could stand it no longer, he began to administer the medication. 

“Weird,”  I said.  “I can hear the medicine going into my neck.  It sounds like it is in my head.”

“Yep,” he responded.  “There is a lot of spongy tissue in that area.”

Then, we were done and I stood up to check out the results.  Glory, hallelujah, I could move my neck all around!

I was giddy as I drove home.  The best part was that I could look over my left shoulder to see if cars were coming when I was trying to pull out from somewhere.  Now that is a fringe benefit, my friends.

A month later, I was back at the office.  This time it was for a procedure on my lower back so, I found myself face down on an exam table with my bare derriere out for all the world to see.  The doctor picked up his syringe and said good morning.

“You know what you are doing, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.  “More or less.”