Is it the fate of all newbie bloggers to see life in snapshots to later be developed into the theme of a blog post? Hope it's not just me. Seriously though, life in this crazy household of seven gives too much fodder to ever completely cover in a blog, so I hope we can be friends in real life. Then I can elaborate on all the craziness. Today's particular event however, could not be left un-blogged (hope that's a word) and while I'm not always great at immediately seeing God's lessons painted in obvious strokes on the canvas of these four walls--today--let's just say while it wasn't a pretty picture, I sure didn't miss it.
Actually, I should feel most sorry for our lovely neighbors. Very soon they (our neighbors) will be putting their house on the market to move closer to their grandkids. Who can blame them? My parents swear grand-babies are the joy--great joy and reward for allowing my brother and I to survive into adulthood. I sincerely hope Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor were not looking out the window this morning. My guess is that if they were, they became even more discouraged that the crazy, weird homeschooling family next door--the one with all those kids had finally and once-and-for-all single handedly plummeted neighborhood property values so low that no amount of home improvement could remedy the situation. To their credit, they have done extensive work in the yard. Don't get me wrong, it was gorgeous before--how could it not be--more people work on the man's yard than work on my body, hair, teeth and nails combined. Seriously, I would not be one bit suprised to see a manicurist taking finely sharpened scissors to each individual blade of grass. If their house doesn't sell within 48 hours on the market, it won't be for lack of yard work. Do I seem jealous?
Anyway, I'm sure their hopes of selling quickly were a bit douced this morning when five uniquely dressed (their Daddy dressed them) children went running out the front door with plumes of smoke billowing behind them. One deeply discouraged Momma followed. It all started with the dream of a perfect new delicious recipe that I was just dying to try out on my family. Baja Fish Tacos.
What does this have to do with lessons of faith? I'm convinced that the life of faith was meant to be walked out in daily life. The mundane. . .the monotonous. . .the bored-out-of-my-mind-doing-endless-loads-of-laundry-and-cooking-mac-and-cheese. I don't know about you but I want my family to see Jesus in me even more than the folks I run into on Sunday morning. It might be easy for the Sunday morning crowd to think I'm that nice and friendly all the time. My family knows better. It was to the end of extending them love and mercy that I had prayed to God just a few hours before. Seriously, before I rolled my extra-wide behind out of bed this morning--even before my eyes were fully opened (I'm not a morning person)--I had prayed and asked Jesus to fill me with the power of the Holy Spirit to accomplish a monumental task. You stay-at-home moms know the task to which I'm aspiring. The task of being loving and kind to your own family. It is especially difficult if you have been with your children for over 130 days straight with no break and no end in sight! The last thing--the very last thing-- you feel like doing when they have tracked mud through the house again is to extend mercy. Hence my need for the power of the Holy Spirit.
And it was all going so well. My husband even commented on how nice it was when I woke up in a good mood. So glad he noticed. Confidence in the power of Jesus rising. Then--not one hour later--the flames of hell burst forth. Okay, they weren't really the flames of hell but they were the flames of my oven. Yep, after meticulous preparation--fish broiling, homemade coleslaw prepared, mango salsa waiting. . . I put the taco shells in--and to hurry the process--after all hubs had to leave for work soon--you guessed it. . . Footnote to self---never put taco shells on the top rack with the broiler going. Smoke everywhere. . .I panicked (my tendency in a crisis) and my sweet husband came to rescue us from the arm-length flames bursting from the pan. Let's just say he is all man--and anything that resembles a tool (this time a fire-extinguisher) will be used en force. He not only extinguished the fire coming from the oven--I think he was making sure it didn't extend to both counters. . .and the cabinets. . . and the floor. Never let it be said that my man is not thorough.
While I'm not convinced this was all an elaborate plot of the enemy-- more likely it was my carelessness-- I do think the enemy planned to take my now-disatrous-kitchen coupled with seven grumbly bellies-- and armed with such tools-- the enemy attempted to rob me of the Spirit's power to help me be like Jesus. Extending mercy and kindness when I would rather be shouting for five little people to get out of my hair so I could clean up this mess.
As I sat sulking in the McDonald's parking lot eating my microwaved burger (I only know that McD's no longer fries the burgers in house because my mom, the school-teacher got to volunteer there to raise funds for her school) I sensed that the day could go south very quickly. My son (the one who seriously dislikes new things) had tried earlier to console me with how very much he was looking forward to fish tacos. Those who know the boy are smiling.
Faithful that He is, I was quickly reminded that the Holy Spirit's power is available regardless. We must abide. Release ourselves in trust. A holy sense of humor certainly doesn't hurt, either. While I'm absolutely sure that burnt baja tacos do not in any way compare to what some folks are facing today--my prayer is that "the eyes of our heart may be enlightened in order that we may know the hope to which he has called us, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and His incomparably great power for us who believe"(Eph 1:18-19) A power that proves "this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed. . ." (2Cor 4:7-8)
Friends, one thing I know--if my children and husband see Jesus in me--if they ever, at all see Jesus in me--it will be the Spirit's work. Left to myself I am one grouchy, short-tempered woman. I must go now and clean up the layers of extinguisher dust covering my kitchen. Come to think of it--perhaps, the portrait He's painting is lovely simply because it is His and it is not yet complete.
May your day be filled with wonderfully prepared homemade meals,
Joy
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