Blessing, not burden

I've been thinking a lot about children lately. Probably because I have one that keeps me busy and stirs my compulsive snuggling reflex, and one that I feel like I am already not giving enough attention to in my womb... at least that's what I'll blame it on if he/she rebels later in life.

We also had a sermon on children and infertility and family planning. Sounds odd and agenda-ish, but it was actually good and Biblical. Everything in the Bible discusses children as being a blessing from the Lord, a reward, etc. Be fruitful and multiply. And I don't know when we, even as Christians, somehow took the view that children are burden rather than blessing. Is this our secular culture creeping into our churches? It's another example of buying a comfortable lie rather than being blessed by the truth.

I have actually fretted over having more than two kids because we like to travel and hotel rooms are much easier with four rather than five. Though, I grew up in a family of five who traveled often and I was the one on the rollaway... and I have no ill memories of cramped hotel rooms. And I was the person who wanted the house before I brought a baby home. And I think, generally, everyone is so concerned with the ability to afford a child that we forget who truly provides and that children are a blessing rather than burden! Our needs are out of whack. So concerned with paying full tuition for an ivy league school before your child is born. Needing a bedroom for every child that you might want to have plus a playroom, guest room, and office, because no one can share a room and you can't give up the office for that book you intend to write one day.

This furthers my thoughts, not unspoken entirely but unspoken on this blog, that we, Christ's church in America, have been so consumed with furthering our own kingdoms rather than the kingdom of Christ. We have sold out to what is temporary rather than what is eternal. That is so foolish. Children are not temporary. God says children are good. A blessing. A reward. They grow up to do (prayerfully) good works. He never says the same about a comfortable hotel room. I'm not advocating irresponsibility - don't have unlimited children if you can't care for them. But if you can, go for it. And care doesn't require designer jeans.

I am very happy to be pregnant with number two but was planning to stop there. Now I'm not so sure. I might go for one more, unless we agree that we're too old to start anew. Which is an unselfish reason, I believe, to put on the breaks. Which has now given me a new appreciation for younger marriage. Either way, my tubes will remain unfettered! (TMI?) Do you see who I'm turning into? Soon I'll be wearing long skirts and churning butter. If my hair starts looking like Michelle Duggar's, please stage an intervention!

Thanks for your donation

After vacation, our mail got delivered in a bundle. This morning, I noticed a receipt in the bundle on our dining room table, telling me that I missed delivery of certified mail and it was waiting for me at the post office. Certified mail? A letter? From mysterious source "Victory." I instantly got nervous. Who is Victory and why are they suing me?

So, before I went out to spend money at Bed Bath & Beyond, I decided to first trudge to the post office to pick up what I was sure was a weird summons & complaint. I can go without curtain rods if I'm going to have to pay legal fees. Or I thought it could be some Christian organization ("Victory") sending me an offer to come write for them. Or something pregnancy-related. But that made too much sense, so I was sure it was a lawsuit or an ideal work-from-home-and-do- exactly-what-you-want offer. Because that's the way I roll... illogically at times.

So I hauled myself and toddler into the post office, handed the mailman the receipt, and basically snarled as soon as I saw what he handed me. A letter, sent certified mail, from the Republican National Convention. The mailman then received an unsolicited "Can you believe this?" and subsequent lecture on wastefulness. Luckily, he was in agreement. I then proceeded to Starbucks to practice my own brand of wastefulness. To each their own.

A few months ago I donated $100 to the RNC. Actually, just writing that, I'm not even sure it was that much. It may have only been $50. It was an online donation. Regardless, not over $100. Since that time, I receive mailers every week. The cost of printing and postage on all that has been sent to me has far exceeded my donation amount. Then they send an ordinary request for donation via certified mail? Are you kidding me? The worst part, is that it was a form letter, with the ploy that "it is so important that we sent this certified mail, guaranteeing you received it." So, basically, the RNC spent the money for every Tom, Dick, Harry and Marge who's ever given ten bucks to receive this standard form letter via certified mail.

Get a smart platform. Put out a good ad. Pay a bevy of political and legal researchers. You could've saved hundreds of dollars by not sending me stuff for which I neither asked nor wanted. Don't waste the money on mailers and that stupid "certificate of partnership" or whatever you sent me as my "free gift" a few weeks back. That ended up in the garbage... where this country will be if the RNC doesn't get its head out of its can.

You're cut-off, RNC! No more donations until the presidential primary. And then you can have fifty more dollars.

Blessing and a Curse

Before church this morning, I ran out to the grocery store to get milk so that my husband could have his morning coffee. Go ahead and tell me what a great wife I am, but the truth is that he cleaned our tornado-struck family room last night while I slept; so really, it was the least I could do. I also decided to pick up some bagels and cream cheese so I could continue my pregnancy diet of bread and cheese - in any combination. (Pizza, for example, totally counts.) Did I mention this is also a great weight-gaining diet? I digress...

Anyway, while strolling from bakery to dairy to produce and back, I heard something familiar in my ear and finally realized it was Petra's "You are not Alone." I was flooded with nostalgia. Petra, for me at least, is a beyond-classic remnant of the contemporary Christian music scene. Petra at the Fox Theater in Atlanta was my first concert - ever. Of any type of music. (Because I wasn't allowed to go see A-Ha in the fourth grade. I'm still full of regrets.)

Not only was I flooded with nostalgia but it completely lifted my mood and brought joy to my heart to realize that the entire music track was contemporary christian music - most more current than my beloved Petra. How wonderful! Now, it would be more wonderful if everyone in that store was in a Biblically-sound church on Sunday mornings, but for someone like me, running in for milk and "necessities," it was glorious. I am proud of the store owner, manager, whomever makes the decision to play that music on Sunday mornings. Seems like a minor thing but it really is an action in faith to be a light in a dark world. I may even send a note.

It was also a joyful reminder of how big God is in a world that seems to be upside down, backward and sideways. It's always been a depraved world. People have always been sinful. It's just more obvious to me the older I get - about the world and myself. So that was the blessing.

On to the curse. Just before I arrived at the store, I was listening to some boring weekend-programming on my usual conservative talk station featuring an interview with our state's Comptroller. Snooze. (And P.S.: do a better job, guy.) Anyway, just before I pulled into the store's parking lot, they teased the next topic of conversation - the mosque that is going to built at Ground Zero - with the question, "what message does this send?" My instant, audible response was "that we've conquered you." There it is: an overt, tactile, symbol of victory. We tore down your "power" and replaced it with ours. Could there be anything more disgusting? No. A big, fat, sky-scraping, modern, shining mosque is going to be built where the old Burlington Coat Factory used to stand before it was condemned from 9/11 fallout. It is terribly sad. And if you want to be politcally-correct and say this is fine and that's not what it means, that it's just a convenient location for a mosque or a peaceful showing of "multiculturalism," then you might also try purchasing a unicorn with monopoly money. The truth is the truth whether it's acknowledged or not.

The other sad thing is that this mosque will probably be erected and functioning long before the 9/11 Memorial. It's been nine years with little to no progress. Well, at least Jihadists the world-over will have their monument.

Fortunately, the God of Moses and David and Paul and little old me is bigger than any of the nonsense in the world today. And none of it escapes Him. So turn up that Petra and breathe.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10

Caillou

All of a sudden, out of no where, we are big Caillou fans around here. We have a couple of Caillou books and now we get to watch Caillou via PBS's Sprout on demand. I think she just likes saying his name. I do. Caillooouuuu! It becomes more wolf-howl the more tired I get.

Yesterday, riding her tricycle, she kept saying "bike like Caillou," "bike helmet like Caillou," and then simply, "like Caillou," over and over again. Today, she put a bucket on her head, which is very common, and instead of saying she was a robot, she was suddenly, "like Caillou!"

I got her Aristocats from the library, in my search of non-scary (relatively) Disney movies. She was excited about it and then suddenly, "watch Caillou!"

When she needed to take her nap, I was trying to coax her with all my motherly tactics up the stairs and into her room. I am near my wit's end having to pick her up and drag her places. Can't she just obey me? So she made it halfway up the stairs, into our living room (our LR is on it's own floor, halfway up the stairs - like a split) and started running around shrieking and saying, "like Caillou!" I then pulled the Caillou-card myself and told her how Caillou always obeys his mommy, so be like Caillou and go all the way up to your bedroom.

Suddenly, not so into Caillou.

Lollipop with a side of cookies

Embarrassing? Being fat and bringing your two-year-old daughter to your doctor's appointment with a lollipop and cookies so she'll be still in her stroller while you're sprawled on the table. And of course she's talking about both the entire time. "Green lollipop. Cookies!" I felt like the poster-child for promoting childhood obesity. Next time I'll teach her to say "low-fat Nilla wafers!"

What did they expect by scheduling an appointment for 2:30 PM, right at nap time? Making it a triple obesity threat, I also had a DVD player ready to go at a moment's notice.

And my next appointment is scheduled for 12:30 PM, immediately following MOPS, so I'll be bringing my daughter with her lunch. Great.

(For the record, this is not my kid... just a pic off the Internet.)

It's my mother's world...

... and I'm still living in it.

My mom is visiting us this week. She is a cleaner, organizer, subtle criticizer, helper, theoretically well-meaning work-horse. Yesterday, I was asked if my oven was self-cleaning, when the next load of laundry was going to be ready, and whether we needed to empty the Diaper Genie, all within two minutes. After taking a breath, she mentioned the garbage can needed cleaning and mumbled something about mold.

I recently cleaned my house, believe it or not. And everyone accounted-for has clean underwear and towels. And the Genie takes two seconds. And aren't garbage cans supposed to be dirty?

Today she was scrubbing the trays for the toaster oven (that incidentally, I scrubbed and put in the dishwasher probably the day before she arrived). She was also scrubbing the inside of the microwave. And the outside of the toaster oven... the glass door that has English muffin wrapper melted onto it. You can see the writing. It's not dirt, it's permanently melted-on plastic. I think a razor blade is required for extraction. I should go look to see if the scrubbing worked...

Today we are also switching from an over-priced cable to a lower-yet-probably-still-over-priced fiber optic provider. It is now 4:00 PM and he has been here since 9:00 AM, minus a lunch break.

He knocks, my mom says "Come in!" before I can even open my mouth. He goes in the basement to finagle things and my mom asks if he needs help moving things. He is standing in the foyer and my mom asks if he needs a glass of water or anything.

These series of exchanges made me realize: where my mother is, there lies her home. I guess on Saturday I resume ownership again.

Question: If I whimper "Mommy, I'm thirsty, so thirsty!" in the middle of the night, will she bring me a glass of water? (Or will I just annoy my husband?)

And yes, she did ask me why we need so many channels.

Coming Out

Today on Facebook, I noticed that someone was a fan of Derek Webb. As a fan (or at least a nostalgic fan) of Caedmon's Call, I considered myself a fan of Derek, since he was a big part of the group and now a solo-artist. Christian band. Christian artist. So I clicked on his fan page. There, I find that he recently added Jennifer Knapp to his current tour. Another Christian artist, Knapp's "Kansas" goes down as one of my favorite Christian albums of all-time, competing with Jars of Clay's first album. I digress...

Recently, Jennifer Knapp came out as a lesbian. After that, Derek adds her to his tour. Also, from his fan page, I learn that he gave a concert for a "Christian LGBT" event and he at one point said that if it came down to it and he had to choose, he would choose to attend a gay-affirming church. That, right there, is why I am blogging.

A "gay-affirming church" is a Bible-denouncing church. Period. Not because it involves homosexuality but because it involves something God calls sin. You can't have a sin affirming church and call it part of The Church. It becomes something else worshipping someone else. Just as you can't have a "liar-affirming church," "infidelity-affirming church," or one that might suit me nicely, a "gluttony-affirming church." You can't affirm a sin in a church and worship the Lord. Can you struggle with sin and welcome the struggling sinner? Of course. You have to - that is the gospel. The mark of a Christian isn't that you're sinless. Please, it's that you have the struggle. That you have the struggle between your flesh and your redeemed spirit.

Living in an unchurched area, for the most part, has made me see things in very black and white terms. But you know what? The Bible is black and white. There is no part of sin that is okay. There is no part of sin that can be affirmed. There is no part of the gospel that needs adding-to or tweaking. It is perfect and if you want to change it to suit you, you should read about Eve reaching for the apple because she wanted to know what God knew, causing sin to first enter the world. Sin is entering churches that "mean well." Don't mean well, teach the Bible. Love the sinner but acknowledge the sin, whatever it may be. Enlightenment of sin is what brings you to your knees before a holy God. That is much better than being "affirmed."

I gossip. I eat too much. I can be quite lazy. I'm not as loving and kind as I should be. I can be very prideful. I often find mean humor funny. I can go on and on and on and on of sins with which I struggle regularly. According to the Bible, they are no more or less sinful than homosexuality. They are all sins and I'm as guilty as the next. I do not want a church that affirms these things. Maybe it would make me feel fuzzy and high on myself, but I don't think so because it would prevent me from going to the cross, from asking forgiveness, from the hope and peace that comes from repentance and a contrite heart.

I want a church that is a Biblical gospel-based church. One that welcomes my mean, fat, gossipy self and points me to a Holy God who wants more for me.

So I'm coming out as a Christian who is sick of the church being pushed and prodded, molding to a sinful world, rather than being the beacon of light that Jesus calls it to be. The truth may hurt but it will ultimately set you free.