Saturday, April 14, 2007

A Story for Imperfect Parents


I hope this encourages you as much as it did me!

Imperfect Parents

A young father followed the same routine every evening: He went into the kitchen, opened a cupboard, and took out a glass. He then walked over to a cupboard, pulled out a cookie jar, took out two or three cookies, and put them on a plate. Then he’d go to the refrigerator, get some milk and pour himself a tall glass. Following that, he’d walk into the living room and enjoy his milk and cookies while sitting in his favorite chair.
One evening as he was heading into the kitchen for his nightly ritual, the father noticed his three-year-old son heading into the kitchen ahead of him. The boy had a determined look on his face. Instead of announcing his presence, the father decided to stay unobserved so that he could watch what his son seemed so determined to do.
The boy pulled out several drawers, essentially making steps so he could climb onto the counter—something he was forbidden to do. Next he walked across the counter (another no-no) and opened an upper cupboard door. He reached in and pulled out a glass, knocking over several other glasses in the process. The young boy placed his glass down, hopped off the counter, then picked up his glass, and put it on the floor. He marched to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk, then poured it into the glass. The flowing milk proved too strong for his little hands, and it spilled over the top of the glass. The little boy wiped up the spilled milk with is shirt.
Then he left his milk, walked over to another cupboard, and pulled out the cookie jar. This was strictly forbidden; the fathers’ son knew he wasn’t supposed to get cookies without permission. But he reached in and while doing so pulled several other cookies out of the jar. The boy put them back and wiped up the crumbs with his now milk-soaked shirt.
The father stepped out to intercept his son, only to be greeted by a huge smile. “Here are your cookies, Dad. I love you.”
In this story, I want you to place yourself in the son’s position, no the dad’s. We’re the little child, trying to serve our heavenly Father and yet making a lot of messes in the process. We can’t reach as high as we’d like, so we make do with makeshift steps to reach the counter. We knock over a few glasses, and we spill the milk while we’re trying to prepare a drink. Lacking all wisdom, we come up with the great idea of cleaning up the mess with our shirt instead of with a washcloth. But what dad wouldn’t feel touched by such a display of service, however messy it might be?
We’re not the best parents, not by far. We don’t have all the wisdom we’d like. We don’t understand how everything fits together. We make mistakes, we make messes, we can do everything wrong—but God looks at us with a Father’s delighted eyes. Where we see weakness, God sees humility. Where we see mess, God sees intent. Where we see failings, God sees motives.
And he smiles. He takes us into his arms. And he laughs a delighted Father’s laugh.

From “Sacred Parenting” by Gary Thomas Pg. 51-52
I highly recommend this book!

Andi

Worry About Tomorrow?


This has to be one of my favorite stories. I read it in Linda Dillow’s “Calm My Anxious Heart”
I found it at: http://www.maxlucado.com/read/woodcutter/index2.html
I hope this encourages you!
Andi


Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor, he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen before—such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength.People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused. "This horse is not a horse to me," he would tell them. "It is a person. How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a possession. How could you sell a friend?" The man was poor and the temptation was great. But he never sold the horse.One morning he found that the horse was not in the stable. All the village came to see him. "You old fool," they scoffed, "we told you that someone would steal your horse. We warned you that you would be robbed. You are so poor. How could you ever hope to protect such a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have been too high. Now the horse is gone, and you’ve been cursed with misfortune."The old man responded, "Don’t speak too quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If I’ve been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you judge?"The people contested, "Don’t make us out to be fools! We may not be philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact that your horse is gone is a curse."The old man spoke again. "All I know is that the stable is empty, and the horse is gone. The rest I don’t know. Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I can’t say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say what will come next?"The people of the village laughed. They thought that the man was crazy. They had always thought he was fool; if he wasn’t, he would have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a poor woodcutter, an old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out of the forest and selling it. He lived hand to mouth in the misery of poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool. After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn’t been stolen; he had run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a dozen wild horses with him. Once again the village people gathered around the woodcutter and spoke. "Old man, you were right and we were wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive us."The man responded, "Once again, you go too far. Say only that the horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but don’t judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You read only one word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?"Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word. All you have is a fragment! Don’t say that this is a blessing. No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I don’t.""Maybe the old man is right," they said to one another. So they said little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned with one horse. With a little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold for much money.The old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break the wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man and cast their judgements."You were right," they said. "You proved you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son has broken his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help you. Now you are poorer than ever."The old man spoke again. "You people are obsessed with judging. Don’t go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment. Life comes in fragments."It so happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in war against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded, because he was injured. Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and screaming because their sons had been taken. There was little chance that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a losing struggle. They would never see their sons again."You were right, old man," they wept. "God knows you were right. This proves it. Yours son’s accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever."The old man spoke again. "It is impossible to talk with you. You always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this: Your sons had to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows." * * *The old man was right. We only have a fragment. Life’s mishaps and horrors are only a page out of a grand book. We must be slow about drawing conclusions. We must reserve judgement on life’s storms until we know the whole story.I don’t know where the woodcutter learned his patience. Perhaps from another woodcutter in Galilee. For it was the Carpenter who said it best:"Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself."3He should know. He is the author of our story. And he has already written the final chapter.

Monday, April 9, 2007

Much of You Jesus


Much of You Jesus
Steven Curtis Chapman

Lyrics:
How could I stand here
And watch the sun rise
Follow the mountains
Where they touch the sky
Ponder the vastness
And the depths of the sea
And think for a moment
The point of it all was to make
Much of me
Cause I'm just a whisper
And You are the thunder and

I want to make much of You, Jesus
I want to make much of Your love
I want to live today and give You the praise
That You alone are so worthy of
I want to make much of Your mercy
I want to make much of Your cross
I give You my life
Take it and let it be used
To make much of you

And how can I kneel here
And think of the cross
The thorns and the whip and the
Nails and the spear
The infinite cost
To purchase my pardon
And bear all my shame
To think I have anything worthy boasting in
Except for Your name
Cause I am a sinner And
You are the Savior and

Chorus

This is Your love, oh,
God Not to make much of me
But to send Your own Son
So that we could make much of
You For all eternity

Chorus

Friday, April 6, 2007

So, why is Good Friday Good?

Have you ever wondered why Good Friday is called "good?" If so, head to an analogy my sister-in-law, Becky, came up with. http://emerickhome.blogspot.com/2007/04/good-friday.html

Also, this video was played at our church on Good Friday. It is about 3 minutes long-- and it is incredible!
http://www.sermonspice.com/videos/1278/sundays-comin/

Andi

Monday, April 2, 2007

This is My Brain. This is my Brain on a Blog.

My First Blahg Post- Your First Peek Into My Brain On a Blog
I've started a blog. Yea! My sister in law says I've been trapped in the house too long, (minor illness among my 4 little kids-- we have our own breeding grounds for germs). She says I've become quite talkative lately. So, I'll talk to all of you until I can reach the outside world regularly again.
Jack frequently tells me that it is time to put my brain in shutdown (and, picture this, he imitates the sound of a computer shutting down as he pretends to push a button on my head! LOL!).
I love to think. This world amazes me. The Creator of this world leaves me speechless, wondering and thinking even more.
So, this might be a great place for me to post questions! I might get people who will give me their ideas or answers! That would be cool. . . .
I think I could give out some recipes. . . .
Well. .. . signing off from my first blah blah blog entry.
Andi
:)