Alarm

So on school mornings I'm up at 5:50am, getting the kids up and retrieving the coffee for Ben and myself. I wake Emma at 5:55 and she says, "5 more minutes?" and I say, "ok". Then I wake Caleb and say, "I'm turning on the big light" and he pulls the covers over his eyes and I hit him with the overhead lights. Then I peek in on Anna Grace and she's usually awake from the other wake-up calls and she covers her eyes and I turn on her bedside lamp and make sure she knows what she's wearing to school. Then I double-back to wake Emma again and head downstairs for the coffee that is brewed on a timer and check the school cafeteria calendar to see if I have to fix Anna a lunch. And by 6:50 everyone is rushing out the door and Ben is driving them to the bus stop.

But not this morning.

I awoke to light...daylight. Oh crap (or something LIKE that). I rush in to wake Emma at 7:18a. The bus is long gone and on days when it's my fault they're late I can't feel good about making Ben drive them, so there I was...rushing around, making sure they're hurrying along. I head out to the car at 7:40 and just picture this: I'm in my thick black/white socks that warmed my feet all night long. Then I have on lightweight jammie pants and one of Ben's t-shirts. Over that I'm wearing my down puffy jacket. I have on some really funky glasses because there was no time to pop my contacts in and my hair is HIlarious. Half-way to school I make a comment like, "What if a teacher makes me get out and sign you guys in or something. Wouldn't you die?" And when they looked at me with these horrified eyes, I kinda' started to panic. Like oh my gosh...I would die. And then I told them that we'd totally play it off, that I was the live-in maid or something and I'd say something like, "No speak english."

But seriously, I hate that feeling of sleeping late and like there is no getting those minutes back. We're late and there's nothing I can do about it. When Anna Grace got out of the car she gave me the look of death because she was going to have to stop in the office for a tardy slip and carry it to her very intense, loud-talking teacher from up north. She was not happy with me. Not to mention the fact that our local djs were discussing this "no spanking" law that Massachusettes is considering and when I asked if she thought that we ever spanked her too hard she said, "YES. The spoon and the belt? They hurt." Now, it's been a really long time since she got a spanking, but not long enough, obviously. I guess it's not like childbirth (when you forget the pain) because she's hanging on to this hostility for dear life.

So the kids are late and it's my fault. I am dressed like a homeless person so when they're embarrassed it's my fault. And I beat my kids...which is obviously my fault. Man, this parenting gig is not always very gratifying. But there is something so cool about watching them get out of the car, walk towards the school with their backpacks hanging heavy and turn around to wave like maybe they really do like me after all.

Thanks

Brennan Manning had two really cool things to say about thanks in his book, Ruthless Trust. (And if you know me well, you'll be amazed that I actually made it through a non-fiction book.) Manning said that his heart grieves for the atheist because he has no One to thank. The second thing he said (and it's been about 7 years since I read this book, so forgive my paraphrase) was that we should thank God for everything...good and bad...because He can use anything for our good. So this year instead of using this post to thank God for the abundance of obviously good things in my life I am going to thank Him for the hard things that He has promised He can use for my good and the good of the people that I love.

Thank You for Ben's headaches. It sucks that he's sick most of the time and sometimes I feel angry that you don't just go ahead and heal him already. But I know that this hardship causes us to depend on You and your perfect timing. I also know that I lack, in a major way, compassion for the physically sick and tired. I'm not sure why that is but I am going to pray that You use this to draw me into Ben's pain and remind me that you came for the weary and the sick.

Thank You for financial hardship because it reminds me daily of my flesh and my weaknesses. If I were more disciplined and creative I could prevent some of my own stress. But I choose the easy way out and on occasion I see clearly what You want for us and it has absolutely nothing to do with money or wealth. It has everything to do with relationships. Sometimes it's hard to live in such an incredibly wealthy area and not be incredibly wealthy, but it is opportunity for humility and honesty and I'm praying that you will develop that in me.

Thanks for our 1998 Volvo station wagon...it's a whole 10 years "newer" than the last one I had and it has power windows. Yes, it makes some kind of jet engine noise occasionally and it's cost us thousands in repairs and maintenance, but the a/c works and it's got leather interior. Yes, it's black inside and out which makes it hotter than Hades in the summer and filthy-looking in the winter, but it's a quiet ride and we can fit a Christmas tree in the back. When we first purchased it I couldn't believe how 'lucky' I was to have it, luxury compared to the 1988 I'd just given up...but as time has gone by I've looked around and become discontent. Sorry for that.

Thanks for technology. I hate it most of the time, except when I'm blogging or receiving emails from friends and family. But it's Ben's passion and he's really good at what he does. Without it I'd probably be an air force wife, trying to keep from falling apart with three children and a husband in great peril. Thank you so much that you gave Ben the gifts you did, led him to the job he has and allowed him to work from home. It's amazing that we get to spend so much time together as a family. Technology has allowed Ben to be so involved in the lives of the kids.

Thanks for the recorder. There are very few sounds that make me as crazy as the recorder playing "Hot Cross Buns", but it's teaching Anna Grace about music, so Thanks.

Thanks for dirty laundry, dirty floors and dirty dishes because it means that all five of us are mobile and healthy enough to make a mess and eat a full meal.

Thanks for all the taxiing of children that I do because it gives me the opportunity to have time alone with each of them.

Thank You for the hard things and help me to be ridiculously thankful for EVERY thing.

Mess

My house is a mess, 90% of the time. All five of us are slobs. We don't pick up after ourselves. The only thing you can be sure of is that the kitchen will be clean when I go to bed at night. There is nothing I hate worse than waking up to a dirty kitchen. But besides that all bets are off. Right now, on our bedroom/Ben's office (we share a room) floor there is an incredible assortment of stuff...a screwdriver, socks of all sizes and colors, Cooking Light magazines, a Woodworking magazine, computer games, file folders, disposable cameras (dating back to 2000), a mag light, a motherboard, a Sprint cell phone bill, extension cords and computer cords, a box of pull&seal envelopes, 2 green rubberbands, my bathing suit, a babydoll bed that Anna Grace doesn't want anymore, Winston's favorite toy, 2 cardboard moving boxes, a gigantic magnifying glass, Ben's leather laptop bag, a couple Harry Potter dvds, you get the idea. And as I trip over things to reach the bathroom I just have to laugh.

I give Emma such a hard time for not keeping up with her room, but look at this. It's unbelievable. I stopped by a friend's house and she was embarrassed. "My house is such a mess." And she cleans houses for a living. But of course her own is neglected (I totally get that). She made some comment about how my house is so neat all the time and Emma and I looked at each other like, "Wow, have we got her snowed!" The only time she comes over is for a monthly book club meeting and of course I can get the downstairs clean once a month. I said something to that effect and she asked me to leave it for the next book club. Just leave it the way it always is...and I agreed to do that. WHAT WAS I THINKING???

If you read ahead to my last blog entry you'll see that I was born a performer and I don't really like for people to see my dust bunnies. I act like I'm comfortable with total honesty, like my life's an open book. And to some extent that's true. I don't mind being transparent with people, but there's something about this particular truth that I'm uncomfortable with. Why is that? I can write about being a slob, but I really don't want you to see the evidence. I can write about being bad with money or aimless or insecure as a parent or as blind as a pharisee and I can even allow you to see the evidence of all of those things, but when it comes to a dirty bathroom I am completely freaked out.

Insight anyone?

Applause

I work for it every day. I want someone to tell me that I'm doing a good job. I want my boss, Kelly, to recognize me for being a hard worker and an effective salesperson. I want my children to tell me how great I am at helping with homework, or taxiing them around town or giving them wise counsel. I want Ben to appreciate the things I do around the house and/or how sexy I am. I want my small group to think I'm the hostess with the most-est. I want my friends to know that I'm trust-worthy and funny and painfully honest. I want my writer/brother-in-law to approve of how I string words together to form smart witty sentences. Even in writing this I'm looking for applause. I want a prize.

You know the phrase, "Bring your best to Jesus"? Maybe you've heard it in reference to how you dress on Sunday mornings. Maybe it's more about behavior for you. Maybe it's been taught to you like it's about tithing your 10%. Your first fruits. What does it really mean? What does my best look like? Does he really see my beautiful Sunday dress or my patience with mankind or my sacrificial giving and think, "Wow. That Michelle sure is doing a good job bringing me her best!" Do I really think that those things bring me favor with God? Can I actually fool Jesus into believing that just maybe my best might be bordering on possibly being enough? Are chances good that I can bring him something pure enough to truly please him? On my own?

I think we might be convincing each other that we can work towards this lofty goal. And I'm nervous about it.

I was watching The Simpsons with Emma and Caleb the other day and Homer had died and gone to heaven. St. Peter told him he had 24 hours to do one selfless act of kindness to get through the pearly gates. I turned to Caleb, opened my mouth, but before I could even get it out he turned to me and said, "MOM...I KNOW! You don't have to be good to get in to heaven." I have worked hard to pound this truth into their heads. Because if you can be good enough then what's the deal with the cross?

Sue, my Bible Study teacher, speaks this truth every single week. We talk about nothing else. Only the truth of the Gospel. We have no alliteration, no 5-steps to clean living, nothing but Jesus on the cross. Jesus plus nothing. She mentioned the patriarchs yesterday. You know...Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. She was wondering aloud about how in the world we could get a book of virtues from their lives' examples. "Talk about an elephant in the room!" Rape, murder, thieving, polygamy, lying. Their lives were fodder for today's trashy reality tv. We make excuses for them and then focus on the things they did right. The one time out of ten when they "brought their best to God." It's ridiculous. Nauseating. Mind-blowing. I'm quite upset.

We either need Jesus or we need the five step program. We can't need both.

But...but...but...but...but I need practical steps for godly living. I need some forward momentum to get moving in the right direction. Which is forward. I need something logical that I can really follow, so I know that I'm bringing my best to Jesus. So that I can feel good about it. So that Jesus can feel good about me.

WHAT???

He did not come for the healthy, but for the sick and dying. He didn't come for the ones who refused to recognize their own need. He came for the ones who were so needy that people turned away in disgust. He came to free the captives and bring light to those living in darkness. He came to bind up their wounds, our wounds. He didn't come for the ones who think that all they need is the five steps and then they can walk the path on their own. He came for the ones who cannot navigate this life. The ones who stumble and fall and who lay there waiting for someone to pick them up. Waiting for the kind of love that heals and changes from the inside out.

We can definitely continue to bring Jesus our best. And I'm sure I will. Because I'm human and I want to present the best possible version of me. But it earns me nothing. No applause. No merit. No favor. And the only one I'm fooling is myself. And even then I'm not terribly convincing.