Buzz

On the quieter side of birthday party survival, church, trying and failing at filling my tiny-footed mother's huge shoes (while she's off teaching at the Christian Witness Center), and all the usual chores, I bask in the rhythmic hiss and rumble of Grandpa's oxygen machine and the gentle hum of the fan above my head. Few people I think, on God's green earth appreciate such sounds filling an otherwise silent room, like a parent.

As usual, while I type this baby Kaylee reposes on her Boppy, nestled against my tummy now that she's taken her fill and drifted off. Many times while feeding her I've used my laptop or the desktop's keyboard, and when I commented that she's the only one of my kids to delight in beating her palms on things, Mom pointed out that she might very well be attempting a copycat of me typing. What can I say? Mom said this very judgmentally and tried again to drive her basic "computers are what's wrong with the world" outlook into me. I shrugged.

Honestly I'm learning more every day the lesson of "pick your battles wisely" and trying to truly exercise this in dealing with my own children. Additionally, I'm learning that silence is sometimes the very best answer to a question (Christ did that too, now didn't He) and to stop (or at least am trying to) underestimating people's abilities to accept the truth of someone and love them anyway. I'm finding too that the more I dwell on another's faults or past wrongs then read the Scriptures, the more I'm reminded of times I've been guilty, sometimes more so, of the exact same faults and transgressions.

Job recently challenged me with his self-examination, as I often overlook sins of omission. Sins of commission take prominence but the things we ought to do but don't are of equal import, such as helping the sick, needy and fatherless. In this, my parents set a pristine example and I still have so much to learn. I do however, know that God often sends into our lives the ones who need our help the most, and that when you have young children, many days the best you can do for them is to stay home and try to find creative ways to meet their spiritual and emotional needs, in addition to the basic physical stuff. Boy, that sounds nice in type. Too bad I so frequently fall short of doing it even a fraction so well as I should. Anyway, as they age and mature, I'll have more time and resources (Lord willing) outside the home to help in church and community.

Counseling has taken a turn for the better. Not saying much, but I can see God's hand in the responses of others to me and my plight, and must again thank all my friends who've breathed a prayer on behalf of me and my family.

Mom expressed a wish that I could help her teach at this retreat. At the moment, nostalgia's awash within me as I recall my early 5 Day Club teaching days. "Ringu of India's Forest" was our CEF mission story, that first summer I taught after attending Christian Youth in Action camp. I taught it so often, soon I memorized it and could probably have given a rousing rendition in my sleep. Few out of all the possible stories to tell can, for me, illustrate God's power through faith as mission stories can. Pastor Greg today stated that a believer should count it their duty to appreciate history and geology, as God's hand can be seen in these things. It is "His Story," he said, and I've heard my father, who also loves history, say this many times. I always felt like such a dunce in History. Never could recall the dates of things and who did what to who in what war and so on. Always wished I could, though. Oh...goodness the rabbit trails! I think it's high time to cease chasing that wild, fluffy beast and call it quits. This entry's so named because I've felt like quite the busy bee in a madhouse hive lately. Mom's return tomorrow afternoon will, no doubt, be welcomed and heralded with great acclaim, from back door to front, from front walk to back alley. Blessings and Love for all my readers, V