Mary or Martha?

The story of Mary and Martha (two of Jesus’ best friends) has my attention.   I like to imagine Mary and Martha living in the 21st Century.

Martha is a trailblazer.  (Heck, she owned property in the ancient world -- a rare status for women!)  She's also a constant worrier and worker bee who is rushing around to get everything done and ordering everyone around.  She’s outraged that everyone around her is plain lazy (or incompetent) and she’s always saying, “Do I have to do everything myself?”

She brings home the bacon and fries it up in a pan.  She's taking care of her family -- both emotionally and financially -- and she wonders when someone is going to take care of her instead!  She’s keeping score of who’s doing what (and who’s not doing what), and she’s always nagging at someone. 

Sound like anyone you know?  I get stressed out just watching her.  Maybe because she hits too close to home.

Unlike Martha, Mary is calm and laid back, sitting at Jesus’ feet.  How does Mary get anything done?  And why does she let Martha do all the work?   

I don’t think Mary is lazy -- she just has her priorities ordered.  She works smarter, not harder.  And when the guest of honor arrives in her home, she knows better than to run around and try to impress him.  Instead, she just sits and listens.

Mary knows how to delegate. She orders the schedule. The schedule doesn’t order her. When her meeting cancels unexpectedly, she stops and gets a pedicure. And when her kids don’t have school in the morning, she lets them stay up late and eat popcorn.

She’s known to change plans.

So many of us want to live like Mary but we feel trapped in Martha’s world. 

I am a type B person trapped in a type A life.  I have a type A job, wear type A clothes, and live in a type A neighborhood.  My family’s daily routine has just about no spontaneity let alone flexibility.  Everything we do revolves around the “schedule” -- homework, play dates, after school activities, and scheduled appointments. If it’s not on the schedule, you might as well forget it!

Like Mary, I want to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen. 

But is it possible to live like Mary in a modern-day world? 

Martha probably asked the same question.

Stuck Or Strong?

Abigail is one of my favorite women of the Bible.  (After all, I named my third born after her!)

I am struck by Abigail for the following reasons:  1)  Abigail’s lousy situation;  2)  Abigail’s brave response; and 3)  God’s ultimate provision.

1)  Abigail’s lousy situation.

Abigail is smart and beautiful, but she’s (unfortunately) married to a jerk.  Samuel describes it like this.
“She was an intelligent and beautiful woman, but her husband [Nabal] was surly and mean in all his dealings.”  (v.3)

We can assume that Nabal was likewise a jerk to Abigail.  Was he always a jerk, or did he turn mean after they married?  We’ll never know.  What we do know is that she was stuck in a bad situation that was about to get worse.

Nabal was so stubborn and stingy that he wouldn’t even compensate David for protecting his property.  This angered David, who vowed he would not “leave one male alive of all who belong to him!” (v. 22)

In other words, destruction would soon descend on the house of Nabal.  One of Nabal’s servants warned Abigail the evening before David’s army would attack, pleading with her to take action.

What’s a woman to do when her husband won’t respond to the voice of reason, and she knows her household is about to be destroyed?

2)  Abigail’s brave response.

“Abigail lost no time.” (v. 18)  She takes matters into her own hands.  While Nabal is unaware and drunk, she packs up food and gifts and rides on her donkey to meet David.

She puts herself in harm’s way – she pleads for peace when David and his men are ready to fight.
And she doesn’t just act.  She takes responsibility for her entire household.

“My lord, let the blame be on me alone.  Please let your servant speak to you; hear what your servant has to say.  May my lord pay no attention to that wicked man Nabal.  He is just like his name – his name is Fool and folly goes with him.”  (v. 25)

Notice what Abigail doesn’t do. 

She doesn’t make excuses for Nabal or pretend that everything is “fine.”  She also doesn’t say, “There’s nothing I can do, my household is doomed.”

She also doesn’t try try to harm Nabal.  Don’t think it didn’t cross her mind!  Maybe she thought about poisoning him in his sleep.  She doesn’t even plead to God, “Strike my husband dead!” 

Instead, she influences the situation for good.  She looks at where she can make a difference.  She acts swiftly and decisively. 

3)  God’s ultimate provision.

Did Abigail honor God with her actions?  I think she did.  She acted with grace and honor and left the results to God.

God likewise honored Abigail.

After Abigail saved the day (and Nabal sobered up) she went back and told Nabal what had happened.  He had a heart attack.  Ten days later, he died.

You guessed it, when David learned of Nabal’s death, he “sent word to Abigail, asking her to become his wife.”  (v. 40)

Did Abigail live happily ever after?  I don’t know exactly.  But I do know that God provided for her in her time of need. 

******

I don’t know your situation.  It might be lousy.  But learn from Abigail and use your influence for good.  Instead of an attitude that says, I'm stuck, there's nothing I can do, Abigail teaches us that, even in the midst of what appears to be a hopeless situation, we can act in faith.  Instead of being stuck, we can be strong.

Kids And The Devil

I was putting my girls to bed the other night when Abby (age 5) asked, “Is the Devil real?”

I gave my lawyer answer and tried to punt.  After all, what parent wants to be up with her kids before bed (they're already afraid of the dark) talking about the Devil. 

“We don’t need to worry about the Devil, sweetie.”

She wasn’t satisfied.

If you’re reading this, chances are you may not have resolved the question in your own mind.  Most Americans don’t believe in the Devil.  And this includes many Christians.

In a 2009 Study of the Barna Group, four out of ten Christians (40%) strongly agreed that Satan “is not a living being but is a symbol of evil.” An additional two out of ten Christians (19%) said they “agree somewhat” with that perspective. A minority of Christians indicated that they believe Satan is real by disagreeing with the statement: one-quarter (26%) disagreed strongly and about one-tenth (9%) disagreed somewhat. The remaining 8% were not sure what they believe about the existence of Satan.

Let’s face it, believing in the Devil in our culture is kind of like believing in the Easter Bunny.  (My kids are scared of him, too!)  After all, what parent wants to tell her child that an evil, powerful being seeks to destroy her faith and ultimately her soul?  Not me. 

It would have been much easier to say, “No honey, he’s not real.  Just go to sleep.” 

But being a parent isn’t about taking the easy way out. 

Given that I personally believe the Devil is real (no, I don’t believe in the Easter Bunny), I couldn’t continue to dodge the bullet.  So I answered Abby very matter of fact, the best way I knew how.

“Yes, the Devil is real.  He hates God and wants you to hate God too.  But God is stronger.”

You know the next set of questions.

“Where does he live?  Can he get me?  Where is he right now?”

Great, I thought to myself.  This is going to be a fun night of sleep.

“I really don’t know where he lives.  I do know that God is stronger.  God can beat him up.  So, if I follow God I don’t have to worry about the Devil hurting me.  He can never ever take my soul.  God protects us.”

Abby seemed satisfied as she blurted out in her favorite condescending tone:

“The Devil is dumb and stupid.  And I hate him!  If I saw him, I’d punch him in the face!”

She slept all night without disturbing mom.

It’s My Money!

We recently established a “giving fund” that the kids’ contribute to from their own money.  I expected them to be excited – to have some tangible impact and personal connection to the causes we’ll support as a family.  What I didn’t expect was the strong feelings invoked in my 5-year-old, Abby.

And I’m not talking about positive feelings.

When it was time to put in her dollar, she wailed and moaned.  With her fists clenched and her eyebrows raised, she raged,

“You can’t do this!  It’s my money!”

You would have thought we were cutting off her right arm.   Her older siblings tried to convince her she really doesn’t need the dollar (and it could help another kid who might not have food or clothes) but she still didn’t care.  The queen wasn’t parting with the crown jewels any time soon.

Being the patient mother I am, I ripped the dollar out of her hand and threw it in the pile.  She put her head down in a final, contrived pout.  I thought to myself, I’d hate to get stuck on a deserted island with this chick.  She'd take every last crumb for herself.

I know, I shouldn’t be so hard on her.  She’s young.  She has time to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around her wants and needs.  But I also know that gratitude isn’t just going to appear on her doorstep one day.  She’s not going to “grow into it” over time or voluntarily relinquish her self-protective nature.

We have to be intentional. Sooner, not later.

Several days after Abby’s rant, I stumbled upon a post by Amy Sullivan -- How To Raise Selfish Kids.  I laughed out loud.  Been there.  Done that.  One of the reasons I follow Amy’s blog is because she’s passionate about cultivating a radical attitude of giving in her children.  And as I read along, I realize my heart wants the same thing for my own children.

But I have so far to go.  Some days, I act a lot like Abby.

Baby steps.

Spiritual Lessons From a Half-Marathon

Running the Cap-City Half Marathon taught me a few things about myself.  Sure, I probably knew most of these things before, but there’s something about the whole experience that brings these spiritual lessons to life. 

The First Step Is the Hardest

If you would have told me a year ago that I was going to run 13 miles, I would have said you're nuts!  Signing up, saying “yes” and taking that first step is over half the battle.  Isn’t this true in just about any area of life?   When I seek to grow or venture into new territory, I can always find excuses.  Not now.  Not here.  I’m too tired.  I’ll do it tomorrow.  Or maybe next year.

Often, I find myself using these same excuses with God.  Don’t you?

I Need a Goal

I need a goal to get me started – to help me take that first step.  A goal gets me motivated and focused.  As important, a goal gives me a deadline!  I don’t know about you, but I work better under pressure – when I know the finish line is within reach.  Otherwise, I tend to flounder and lose motivation.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve written down spiritual goals on an annual basis – I find when they’re specific (and time-driven) I’m less likely to get off track.

Short-cuts Don’t Work

There’s no magic formula.  Training is hard work.  Period.  There’s no multi-vitamin or energy drink that’s going to get you ready.  It’s practice, practice, and more practice.  And you need to follow the training plan.  (I found this out around mile 10 when I thought to myself, boy, I wish I wouldn’t have skipped those long runs!)

My spiritual life follows a similar pattern.  I keep asking God, “Can’t you just make this road easier?  Where is the short cut!”  But he continues to show me that the journey is part of my training.

I Need a Purpose

It’s not just about me.  I need a bigger purpose.  And, while I know others who run to “lose weight” I just can’t get motivated solely by pounds and inches.  I’m all for a healthy lifestyle (and, clearly, health and fitness played a huge role in my motivation), but running for orphans with team Doma gave me a purpose to cross the finish line.

My spiritual well runs dry when I become self-absorbed.  But the more I give to others – the less it’s about me – the more I’m driven to continue. 

No Pain No Gain

Talk about pain!  I was sore – I mean really sore – for a couple of days.  But I’d do it all over again.  Next time, I’ll probably take my training a bit more seriously, but I’ll also know to expect the pain and discomfort.  Nobody said it was going to be easy!

It’s often through pain and trials that we draw near to God.  Just this year, I’ve watched friends (and many of you) suffer much loss – a broken marriage, a bout with cancer, an unexpected death of a loved one.  It seems like this pain is part of our training.  But, yes, it still hurts!

Has physical training (and pain!) taught you anything about spiritual growth?  Can you relate to these lessons – purpose, practice and pain – in your own life?

Follow Your Instincts Moms!

Nick smacked a double into left field, and I was on my feet screaming.  "Slide, Nick, Slide!"  He slid into second base, but didn't get up.  In fact, he stayed in a ball lying next to the base.

Being the sensitive mom that I am (who loves to win baseball games) I continued to scream, "Get on the base, Nick, or he's going to tag you out!  GET ON THE BASE!"

Nick didn't move, and the ump shouted, "He's out!"

What a bummer!

Was Nick really hurt?  I couldn't tell as he limped off the field.

Enter Daddy Coach.  (Former baseball superstar, and all-around tough guy.)

"He'll be fine.  Nick, you just need to walk on it.  Walk up and down the side of the field and shake it out."

Nick continued to limp.  He'd have to sit out the rest of the game.

The next morning, Nick was still struggling.  Daddy Coach continued to insist that he'd be "fine" -- "after all, if he's going to play sports, he's going to have to toughen up!"

So I sent Nick off to school.  But I had this nagging feeling in my stomach.  I wonder if it's more serious than we think.  But then again, he can walk on it.  I'm sure it's nothing that a little ice and motrin can't cure.  Right?


Wrong.

If I've learned anything on this journey called motherhood, it's to follow your instincts.

After another day of swelling and a trip to the ER the next evening (I took him, of course!) we learned that Nick had fractured his ankle.  According to the doctors, "The worst thing he can do is walk on it!"

So much for shaking it out.

No disrespect guys, but there's a reason God created mothers!

Is He Here Yet?

It was Buddy’s first time in my Sunday School class.  Maybe even his first time at church.  I watched his big, blue 4-year-old eyes take it all in – the singing, the playing, the praying.

When it was almost time to leave, I pulled him aside and said, “I’m really glad you’re here.” 

He continued to stare.  Who is this crazy lady who likes to sing silly songs and play duck duck goose?

But no, it wasn’t a blank stare.  His wheels were turning -- he was thinking.  So I said to him, “You know, Jesus is really glad you’re here today.”

He quickly responded, “Yeah, I know. Is he here yet?”

I (barely) held back my laughter.  Buddy wanted Jesus to show up.  Pure and simple.

“Yes, he’s here right now.  He’s everywhere.  Not just in church.” 

Buddy looked confused.  Like many of us, he had gone through the “church” drill.  But he wanted more.  He wanted a real live encounter with God.  He didn’t just want Jesus to show up, he expected him to show up.

Sure, Buddy may have a few things to learn about God.  He may be an unchurched preschooler, but I love his simple faith.  I love his anticipation.  I love his question.

How many of us have the courage to ask,  “Is he here yet?”  Or have we already made up our minds?  Not here. Not now. It’s not possible – or even if it’s possible, it won’t happen to me.  

Like Buddy, maybe we just need to ask.  Maybe it’s time we expect Jesus to just show up.

Why Marriage Is Good For Business

There’s good news to celebrate about marriage.  And the research backs me up!

No, I didn’t just emerge from underneath a rock.  I know the divorce rate is still hovering around 50%.  I know that marriage is about hard work, prayer, and personal inconvenience.  In fact, I know lots of couples who have “split-up” this year – they’ve decided marriage is just too hard, too disappointing, and too confining.

But I’m here to tell you the good news – and I’d like to throw some positive data your way.  Regardless of whether you (like me) believe that marriage is a spiritual and sacred union, marriage is good for business! 

I first thought about marriage in these terms when I read a thoughtful series about lessons learned from elite leaders by Christine Schellar at The High Calling.  As it turns out, marriage is actually a huge asset to most business leaders.  To my surprise, some 82% of elite leaders are married.  And their marriages are a marked component to their professional success.

Of course, this makes perfect sense.  According to award-winning studies (and a recent book) by Dr. Michael Lindsay, marriage provides the structure and support that many of us need in our professional lives – a partner, a confidant, and someone who will “pick up the slack!”

And it’s not just professional men who benefit from marriage.  A couple of decades ago, career women were less likely to marry.  In the 1970’s, birthrates in the US declined, and Baby Boomers (and working women) generally had fewer children.

But the tide is turning. 

Today, a college educated, 30-year-old woman is just as likely to get married as her less-educated counterpart.  And women in top income brackets are just as likely to marry as other women who work full time.  Women in Generation X (my generation!) generally place a higher value on family and less on work than our Boomer counterparts.  And we’re having more children than our Boomer predecessors!  (If you don’t believe me, check out the research in The Next Hundred Million: America in 2050 by Joel Kotkin.)

So what does this mean for you?

I can only tell you what it means for me.  Doug and I were privileged to celebrate our 19th wedding anniversary this week.  And, as a mother, lawyer, writer, and all-around over achiever with a crazy challenging schedule, I can honestly say I’d never even attempt to be “Superwoman” without my husband.
Most days, he’s the God-given glue that holds me together.

**************

Are you surprised (or encouraged) by the emerging, positive research about marriage? 

Win A Copy of Mommy Whispers Here!

Today on Working Mommy Wednesday, we're discussing favorite books.  And while I've read some great adult books lately, my favorite reads these days are with my kids.  After all, they'll grow up soon and won't want Mom to read to them (boo hoo!).

So here's my favorite new children's book:  Mommy Whispers, by Jenny Lee Sulpizio.

Why do I love this book so much?  Here's a glimpse inside the cover.

Mommy Whispers tells the story of a mother, watching her daughter mature and grow through each stage of life.  From birth, to school, to adulthood, to marriage, and to motherhood.  It's the cycle of life that we all cherish, knowing that each stage is a gift that will last only for a season.

But it's not just about the cycle of life.  It's about the yearning every mother has to keep control, and her need to trust God every step of the journey.

Sounds pretty heavy, huh?

I wasn't sure if it would maintain my daughters' attentions (ages 5 and 7) since we often have different taste in books these days.  (Let's just say I've about had it with the Disney Princesses.)

Boy was I wrong.  My girls ate up every word.  They loved the repetitive language (which help makes this book kid-centered) as well as the bright illustrations.  Afterward, my 7-year-old said to me, "Mom, I want to grow up to be a mom someday, just like you!"

Warning.  This one's a tear jerker.

Please leave me a comment before Mother's Day and I'll put you into the drawing for a free copy!   It's the perfect gift for your mother, daughter, grandmother, sister, or friend.

What about mothers of sons?  After all, we too have a story to tell!

Don't worry, Jenny has a book that's coming out for you this fall!  Stick around, and we might just do another give away.

If you haven't met Jenny Lee Sulpizio, stop by and visit her blog here.

Are You An Ungrateful Whiner?

Do you know anyone who never complaints, never rants, and never blames – no matter the circumstances?

Before you tell me such a person does not exist, I must correct you. 

Meet my mother. 

Mary Stella (D’ Ercole) Moore turned 77 years old this weekend.  And I’ve never heard her utter a complaining word or rant in my entire life.  I am not lying (she’s reading this, so I can’t lie!).

She’s never said:

“I don’t care if you don’t like it, just eat it!”

“Why do I have to do everything myself around here?”

“You kids don’t know how good you have it.”

“Don’t blame me, you make your bed, you lie in it!”

“I am sick and tired of cleaning up after you.”

I know what you’re thinking.  How can we be related?  After all, I can’t stop writing about my daily rants (I even wrote a book about them).

What’s her secret?

She keeps it simple.  She’s content living day by day and leaves the rest to God. 

So here’s my challenge.  I’ve been thinking about my ungrateful spirit and sassy mouth lately (and I’ve also been riding my kids about annoying whining).  Do you think I can go one week without uttering a complaint?  Will you join me?  In other words, can we be more like my mother?

*****************

Happy Birthday, Mom, and I’m so thankful you’re not a whiner!

Do everything without complaining or arguing.  Phil 2:14

Why Moms Need Second Chances

We were sitting at the dinner table when my husband asked me, “You read to Anna’s class today, right?”

I almost choked on my meatball.  I had completely forgotten to show up and read to the second graders.  And I had let Anna down.

Anna hadn’t mentioned it when I got home from work.  She hadn’t even acted like anything was bothering her.  She just looked up from her pasta and replied, “Well, my teacher wondered if you were coming.  I told her I didn’t know.”

Frankly, I didn’t have a good excuse.  I wasn’t out of town.  I didn’t have a client emergency.  It was even on my calendar.  Worse yet, Doug had reminded me about it the day before.   I can still hear him, “Don’t forget to show up Suz!”

I had simply forgot.

Before I could apologize, my 10-year-old, Nick, interrupted.  “Mom, not to be critical, but you never volunteer in my class anymore.  It seems like you’re always going to Anna’s class.”

“Nick, remember, I didn’t even show up to Anna’s class today!  Look guys, I’m doing my best.  You know how busy I am, and I’m really sorry.”

Anna didn’t yell at me.  She didn’t whine or complain.  She simply finished her dinner and said, “It’s ok Mom.”  

Later that night, I was putting Anna to bed, waiting for her to finish her usual prayers for world poverty, injustice, and the forgiveness of sins for all people.  Right after she prayed for Haiti and Japan, she slipped in a new line that caught me off guard. 

“And dear God, please help my teacher to give Mom a second chance.”

I couldn’t say “Amen” fast enough.

Social Networking Or Notworking?

Social media is a syringe that sucks time out of our daily work. In fact, some companies have banned social media from the workplace all together. And for good reason. Over half of all employees access their Facebook profiles at work, losing, on average, 15 minutes of productivity per day.


But wait. You might be surprised to hear that employees who use social media (also known as Tworkers) also tend to be the most productive. According to one university study, employees who surf the Internet at work, including social networks, are 9% more productive than their non-Internet surfing counterparts.

If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you (like me) classify yourself as a Tworker. Twokers are thinkers. Tworkers are resourceful. Tworkers know how to get it done. And everyone knows that Tworkers make better employees, right?

[To continue reading at The High Calling, click here.]

Would I Recognize Jesus?

Was Jesus just a good moral teacher, or is he really the Son of God?  Over 2000 years after his death, there is still debate about the true identity of Jesus.

Even in his own time, there was little consensus.

Surely, his own family recognized his true divinity, right?

Not exactly. Jesus’ family even questioned his sanity.

When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said, “He is out of his mind.” – Mark 3: 21

But surely, the religious leaders recognized his spiritual authority, right?

Hardly. Rather than concluding he was crazy, they declared he was downright evil.

And the teachers of the law who came down from Jerusalem said, “He is possessed by Beelzebub! By the prince of demons he is driving out demons.” – Mark 3:22

No, it wasn’t the religious elite that recognized Jesus as the Son of God.  Instead, it was the unexpected – the uneducated, the fisherman, and even the prostitutes.  An unlikely group of followers.

I like to think of myself as educated. Even enlightened! Yet I wonder if I would have recognized Jesus 2000 years ago. If Jesus had asked me– as he asked Peter – who do you say that I am?  What would I say?

Many days, Jesus is right in my midst, but I still don't recognize him.   There are too many distractions blinding me.  Work. Home. Errands. Relationships. Duties.  In the midst of it all, I even worry that I've lost my spiritual sight. 

But today, on Maundy Thursday, I'm going to try hard to see him.  I'm going to look.  I'm going to listen.  I'm going to think about the bread and the wine and ask God to open my eyes.

I want my heart to burn. 

******************

When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began  to give it to them.  Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.  They asked each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us....?"  Luke 24: 30-32

Is It the Real Jesus or Fake Jesus?

Jesus enters Jerusalem with a bang.  After riding in on a donkey, did he keep a low profile and fly under the radar?  Not exactly.

Based on the gospel accounts, by Tuesday, Jesus was causing a scene in the heart of Jerusalem – in none other than the temple courts.

In fact, Jesus got angry, knocked over a few tables, and even disturbed the peace.

And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves, And said unto them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves. – Matthew 21:12-13

Ouch!  So much for not making waves.  Why was Jesus so angry?  Some would say that he was fed up with the religious system – a system that had become broken and corrupt.  A system that was charging the poor for “acceptable” temple sacrifices.  A system where the religious leaders made the rules and lined their own pockets.  A system where outward appearances had become more important than inward character. 

Sometimes I ask myself if our religious systems portray the real Jesus.

I'll never forget the first time I watched our church’s passion play with my then 3-year-old daughter, Abby.  She was completely taken with Jesus.  And she kept asking, Is that the real Jesus or the fake Jesus?

It’s a good question.  I think Jesus asked the same question when he looked at the religious people of his day.  Were they real or fake?  Did they act religious on the outside, but on the inside, were they filled with selfishness and greed?

When we look at our own Christian institutions today, do we find piety for the sake of piety --  a set of outward “rules” and an obsession with appearances (while the inside of the cup is full of hypocrisy and greed)? 

Or, do we see something that looks more like Jesus – humility, grace, and generosity to those in need?

In Abby’s words, do we look like the real Jesus or the fake Jesus?

Let's Get Ready For Holy Week!

The rest of this week, I plan to blog about Jesus. For those of you who read the blog and don’t share my faith, I’ll likely get back to more light-hearted rants next week. But this week – the final week of Jesus’ life on earth -- I just can’t help myself.

This week, it’s all about Jesus.

I’m part of a church that really knows how to celebrate Easter. We fast during Lent, put on passion plays, light candles, and roll out the red carpet on Easter Sunday. My kids are so excited they can hardly contain themselves. Sure, they love the candy and Easter eggs, but they know that Easter is about something much more important -- an eternal sacrifice and a risen Lord. (Besides, my girls are pretty freaked out by the Easter Bunny – just like Tooth Ferry Terror.)

For me, it’s not really about the ritual of Easter. It never has been. It’s a celebration of a person. It’s about mourning the loss of your best friend, only to find out that he’s not only alive – he’s right here in your midst.

And he laid his life down for you so you can be by his side for all eternity.

This week is the most important week in Christian history. Yesterday, we celebrated Palm Sunday. Jesus leaves Bethany (where he has just raised Lazarus from the dead), stops in a little village to pick up a donkey that had never been riden before, and enters Jerusalem.   This is the only time Jesus rides on an animal during his public ministry.  Up until now, he walked everywhere (pretty interesting, huh?).

He must be up to something.

The road from Bethany to Jerusalem is only about two miles, yet this final week of Jesus’ life takes up more space than all the other events of the four New Testament gospels (combined). The plot thickens, Jesus enters Jerusalem to face his accusers, and ultimately faces death.

Will you join me on the journey?

What’s Worse In Restaurants – Small Children or Mean Women?

Let’s face it, loud obnoxious children can ruin a meal.  Your meal.   Which is why we try to take our kids to “family friendly” restaurants. 

On a recent family vacation, my husband and I walked into a poolside grill (highly rated by Trip Advisor) and noticed a sign that read:

“Unattended children will be given free espresso and a puppy.”

Bingo.  Just our kind of place.  Good food and kid friendly.  We crowded around a small table with our three kids and ordered drinks.

Then I saw her.

Evil Eye Woman who obviously can’t stand children. 

I’m used to a few stares, some eye rolling, even a glare or two.  But this was different.  If looks could kill, we’d all be dead.

I quickly concluded several things about Evil Eye Woman.  First, it wasn’t just my kids she didn’t like.  She didn’t like kids period.  She didn’t like people period.  She’s just one of those people who is just plain miserable.

I know, I shouldn’t judge Evil Eye Woman.  But she was really starting to get under my skin.  When my 7-year-old daughter, Anna, scooted her chair and almost bumped into her, Evil Eye Woman even snarled.  At my lovely daughter!

How could I avoid an encounter?  I thought through the possibilities of what I might say. 

• “What’s your problem lady, this is a kid-friendly restaurant, if you don’t like it, leave!”
• “I noticed that you seem pretty miserable, did you know that God loves you and offers a wonderful plan for your life?”
• “Excuse me, you seem pretty uncomfortable sitting by my children, would you mind if I asked the waitress to put you at a new table?”

None of these options seemed quite right.  Then, it dawned on me.  She didn’t have to ruin my meal.  I could have the last word.

I turned to my husband and said, “Here’s the good news about dinner.  This woman has inspired me to write a blog!”

He just rolled his eyes.  

Joy (Even On A Monday)

I was driving home from work, sitting in annoying traffic, when I couldn’t help but notice the guy in front of me.

He was jamming.

So I looked closer.  Who was this mad man behind me with the shaking car?  He looked middle aged (even balding from behind).  He was wearing a suit and glasses.  And he was singing at the top of his lungs, dancing in seated position.

Mind you, this was a Monday, not a Friday.  The sun wasn’t shining.  The stock market wasn’t soaring.  Traffic wasn’t moving.

But he was joyful about something.  I thought about the possible options:

1)  He had a really good day at work;
2)  He had a really bad day at work and he was trying to forget about it;
3)  He just quit his job;
4)  He’s losing his mind;
5)  He’s a joyful person.

I wanted to get out of my car and ask him, but the traffic started moving again.  So I’ll never know.

I turned up the radio and started to sing.

********
Be joyful always; pray continuously; in everything give thanks.  Even on a Monday.

Why I Don’t Do Social Media Guilt

If you’ve hung around this blog at all, you know that I’m a big fan of grace, not guilt.

Which is why I’ve decided to say NO to social media guilt.

There are already too many things in this life to feel guilty about.

When it comes to blogging, I never have time to read all the posts I want to read.  And I never have time to comment on all the posts I do read. I constantly neglect my Facebook friends.  And I forget to thank my fellow Tweeters for mentions and re-Tweets.

But I don’t lie awake at night worrying about it.

Now I might lie awake worrying about other things --  like the bad mommy complex, how my kids are doing in school, a deadline at work, or forgetting to send cards to people who are sick – but social media worries are near the bottom of the list (right behind forgetting to discard the expired milk in the frig). 

Who needs another guilt trip?

Not me.

Do you need to let go of some blogging (or other) guilt?

Guilt drains.

Grace fills.

When Boys Pray

Nick’s 10th birthday party was in full swing when when a minor crisis ensued.  In the midst of an intense dart gun game that spanned half the neighborhood, Nick’s friend Dillon lost his glasses.  I could see the panic on his face.

“These glasses cost $300!  My mom is going to kill me.  They fell right out of my pocket.”

The game stopped.  The party stopped.  And we looked everywhere.

Doug and I helped the boys comb the nearby yards inch by inch.  We looked in the street.  In the bushes.  Even in Dillon’s pocket.  But the glasses were no where to be found.

I could feel God nudging me. [Note to readers:  I did not hear God speak out loud.  There have been only a handful of times in my life when I think he is speaking to my heart.  This was one of them.  I am not crazy.]

God:  Susan, gather these boys together and pray out loud.  Let them experience the power of prayer.  Give faith a chance.

Susan:  [Intentionally ignores God.]

God:  Susan, I’m talking to you. 

Susan:  I hear you.  But what if we don’t find them.  Besides, I don’t even know some of these boys.  I’m going to embarrass Nick and his friends are going to think his mom is a whack job.

[God is silent, and Susan’s heart continues to burn.]

Susan:  Ok God, you win.  But don’t blame me if we don’t find these glasses.

Before I could change my mind I blurted out, “Ok boys, gather around.  We’re going to find these glasses.  For those of you who are comfortable, I want you to agree with me in prayer.  Watch and see what God can do.”

[Susan: Ok God, there’s no turning back now.  And why did you let me add that last line in?  I sound like a religious fanatic!]

A couple of boys bowed their heads.  A few snickered.  One of them said under his breath, “I can’t believe we are doing this.”

I continued rather loudly. After all, since I had pulled the trigger, I might as well go for the gusto. “God, we don’t know where these glasses are.  We’ve looked and we can’t find them.  You know where they are God.  Open our eyes.  Show us.  In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

Less than 30 seconds passed when Nick’s cousin Peter shouted out, “I found them.  The glasses are right here!”

I watched Dillon smile.  Another boy exclaimed, “It’s a miracle!”

I bet God smiled even bigger.

What Is A Son?

[Nick, my firstborn, turns 10 today.  My heart is full and my hands are lifted.  I’m so grateful to be his mother.]



A Son is Joy.  He keeps my glass full.  He brings a smile to my face.  His spark quickly changes my mood, showing me the goodness in the moment and the divine on the ordinary.


A Son is Laughter.  He has that charming yet ridiculous boyish sense of humor.  He wears mirrored glasses and a shower cap in the airport.  Just for fun.  He tells silly jokes I will never fully understand.  But I still laugh.  Hard.


A Son is Pain.  I hurt when he hurts.  I watch him learn lessons and I want to intervene.  But I don’t.  I hold back, knowing that God is in control.  Not me.  I watch him grow and mature and my heart aches, knowing that I must let go.  Again and again.


A Son is a Mirror.  When I look at him, I see my strengths. And my weaknesses. I see the possibilities – the hopes and the dreams.  He brings out the best in me, and sometimes the worst.  I can’t help but stare.  I don’t look away.


A Son is a Companion.  He’s my back-seat driver, my biggest critic, and my biggest fan.  He invites me to build a sand castle.  I can't say no, even though I hate getting my hands dirty.  He’s my night owl who stays up with me late and asks me tough questions about life and faith.  He pours out his heart.  I am his confidant, and I reciprocate his trust.  


A Son is a Gift.  He has been entrusted to me for a time.  I want to give him my best, and I don’t want to screw up this privilege called motherhood.  He is a gift from God.  He is pure grace, and through my son I experience the deepest love of the Father.  

For the last 10 years, I have humbly held my son.  But he is getting too big to hold.  So instead I walk beside him and trust that the Father will hold us both.

Happy Birthday, my son.