Pink Cup or Green

My third child stared balefully at me from her perch on the kitchen chair. She could barely see over the top of the table, but the lack of dignity didn’t affect her pride. She did not want to sit on her booster seat, and she wanted a pink cup with milk in it.

Increasingly I found myself going to lengths to give this precious little one of mine exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it, in the color she wanted it in. If I did not, she would throw herself on the floor and shriek at the injustice of a world that did not revolve around her little life.

I was eased into it, you see. My oldest two were loud, demanding, forceful human beings that forced me to be in control from day one or there would have been utter chaos. But this third child of mine was born with long dark hair, quiet, peaceful, with excellent manners from day one. After she was born she turned to me and said “Thank you Mummy, now feed me please”. Ok, that might be a bit of a stretch, but not too much of one.

She would nap on the floor in front of our warm fireplace with her arms and legs flung in all directions. No amount of noise woke her. Even her teeth slid into place without the fanfare of the other two. She had wildly curly hair, and loved to giggle. How I adored this gentle little person that I had given birth to, and never for a minute did I delude myself into thinking she was so easygoing because I knew how to raise babies better. I knew why she was different. It was because the Lord looked down at me and said,” she needs a break, if she has another intense child, she might succumb and be sent to Western State Hospital.”

Oh how we doted on our little Lollipop as we called her. Her round corners fascinated us. She bounced around in her fluffy little dresses, and became strong and tough as she followed her older brother and sister. She rarely had needs, but when she had needs, they were very very specific.

She wanted “that” piece of chicken, and no other piece would do.

She wants a pink cup, with milk in it, filled to a certain height.

She wants to wear these shoes, with these socks, and this dress.

Nothing else will do.

It started so slowly though. First she wanted a pink cup that I filled with milk, and she was so happy. Next she wanted a green cup, and was so happy. I was not wise enough to see the storm building on the horizon. I gave her what she wanted, again and again.

The little beast inside her grew.

It craved to be in control, and the control was sweet.

Everyday when I collected her fat little self from her bed, fed her breakfast, I inadvertently fed the beast.

And it grew

And grew

And grew………

And here we are. She needs this cup, filled to this height, with the beverage of her choice to wash down the exact piece of chicken, with the exact piece of bread, buttered exactly the right way.

And I rose up, saw the beast, and said “whoa Nelly”. (the thing all amish people say when events are crashing out of their control)

I made a solid plan of action and for a few weeks my Lollipop got nothing that she wanted.

She got the green cup, with water, filled halfway. Because Big Ma said so.

She wore what I picked out and went barefoot. Because Big Ma said so.

She looked at the books I picked out, had snacks when I gave them to her, played with the toys I allowed, and I would tell her to say “Thank you Mama” each and every time.

By the end of the first week a sweetness started to emerge from my little girl.

She discovered she loves when Mama is in control. She discovered that her heart is free as a bird when she wears what Mama gives her to wear. By the end of the second week, she was a brand new child. Her temper tantrums were gone. Her attitudes a thing of the past. She was a sweet, bouncy little girl that sweetly replied “yes mama” to my every wish and command.

For this concept to work though, I must impress on you a few key components to this theory so as to keep you from crashing into a fence and breaking your child.

You cannot be filled with tension and stress when you do this. This concept works only when applied by a mother who is confident and peaceful. There can be no shouting or rough forcing to obey. This works because life continues on peacefully, and the child experiences the consequences of her actions. If she does not wear what you put on her, she cannot go outside to play with the other children. If she does not eat the piece of chicken that her Big Ma picked out, she cannot have an ice cream sandwich with the rest of her tribe. If she does not drink her green cup of milk, she will be thirsty.

This is not a situation where you make her sit down, you make her drink that milk, and you make her be happy about it. That will fill your home with tension and stress. You don’t even wait until she asks for a drink, you anticipate her thirst, and set the green cup of milk on the table, and you cheerfully tell her “this is your cup of milk, when you get thirsty, you may drink it”. When she responds that she wanted the pink cup with juice, you smile and say “darling, you will get juice when Mama says you will get juice”.

The same goes with food. If she does not eat her food because its not exactly what she wants, that is ok. She simply has to sit there until she is done. You will not want to set your child up for failure during this period of time. You will want to purposely set her up for success. If you know the food you made is not her favorite. Give her only one bite of everything. One bite of meat, one bite of potatoes, one leaf of salad. When she gets done, exclaim what a good job she did eating all her food. In the following weeks, you will add more each time. But for now, she persevered, and won the battle over herself. She will love that feeling and will learn to seek it out by completing tasks quickly.

After several weeks of this, I start giving back choices. “which cup would you like today?” "

“The pink one? Ok you may. I will fill it with milk for you.”

“You may pick out your dress for today, make sure you wear leggings”

“I am going to give you a glass of chocolate milk for a treat, would you like to drink it outside?”

It is important to realize this is not a punishment. This is merely a rewiring of their brains so they can feel safe, and deeply loved. This can also not be done when they are too young. A child’s needs are instinctual until around 18 months. Much of this can be avoided by anticipating their needs from a very young age. When you offer, instead of them demanding and then getting what they need, it keeps you firmly in charge.

Another key component to making this work is to gather some essentials for the training session. Buy some cookies or ice cream sandwiches so there is a dessert to push through a meal for. If you have a sandbox, buy a few new sandbox toys to make it look very very exciting going outside and playing when you tell your child what to wear.

My Lollipop is now a 9 year old girl that is pure joy to be around. She washes dishes, sweeps the floor, folds laundry, reads books voraciously, is a wonderful babysitter and is completely capable of making confident decisions on her own, but also happy to cheerful say “Yes Mom” if I give her a directive.

Six years ago when I was faced with her tantrums, had I been emotional about it, I would have failed her. 95% of child rearing is not emotional, but practical. Practical problem solving is a must if you want to be successful. If you are too close to the situation, you will want to ask your people for advice. I have done this many times. Old people and young, Parents and childless alike. All had equally good advice.

I celebrate shamelessly when my children and I win together.

Sometimes I Tap Out

I woke up that morning with a headache. A little drummer inside my head valiantly beat his drums, pausing only now and then to take a sip of water before renewing his efforts. I pushed out of bed, reached for my pants, and headed towards the ibuprofen like a homing pigeon.

The house was silent, the only sound a fan in the window pulling in fresh, dewy, morning air. My baby was still asleep, sprawled across his pillow, his little brown arms above his head. I feast my eyes for a minute, I made him after all, he brings me pure joy.

My ibuprofen washed down, I made my one precious cup of coffee that I had to learn to drink black when I took up Intermittent Fasting. Peace settled over me like a cape as I relaxed into my big chair, my bible beside me, my cup of coffee clinging to my fingers, hot and strong. (incidentally also how I like my man.js )

From 4 am to 6 am in the morning is my time. It’s my sweet treat, God given to me, because I am obedient and get my parsley out of bed

It wasn’t always like this.

I had moments of feeling so very sorry for myself with how little time to myself I had. My face would open and sad little murmurs would come out to wash their mud over my soul and muddle up my life.

“ I never have time to read my Bible, I just grab a verse here and there”, piously.

“I am so exhausted, I never have enough time in my day”. exasperated

“God, why did you set life up to be so hard for Mothers”. faithless

“I don’t even have time to drink just one full cup of coffee before the children need me”. poor me

Oh how sad I was. My life sucked and I was trapped in a life with my children who turned out to be far more work than I was prepared for.

They ask uncomfortable questions like “what do chiggers eat?” and “why is your tummy fat?”

They eat far more food than I was prepared to commit to fixing.

There really should be a contract Moms have to at least glance over before they conceive that first human being. Because what is in their mind, is not what actually happens.

Nobody prepares us for Newborn life. Sitting in a rocking chair for twenty five hours of a twenty four hour day, with a person sucking on your chest, pausing only to create explosive poops that fills the diaper, overflows it, out of the diaper, out into the little snap shirt, all the way up to the adorable little neck.

But neither does anyone know to tell you that every single minute of that twenty five hours is spent gloating over the tiny perfect bones in their hands, the funny little toes that almost resemble your husbands hobbit feet, or the way you will pray over those perfect, beautiful, parts that God designed so flawlessly, that this innocent child would grow up to know their creator, and that you would be able to protect them and keep them from harm.

Nobody prepares you for how swift a toddler is. You can turn your head to take the bread out of the oven, and in that amount of time, your toddler who normally cannot even open a door, will not only open the door, but will also be able to sprint 200 yards to where the inmate road crew is laying down a new road. It happened.

But neither will anyone prepare you for how your heart stops when they first discover the power of flirting with their parents. The squinted eyes attempting to wink, or the feeling of fat little hands pulling at your dress.

You certainly will not be prepared for how much they eat. Young parents and single people are thinking “breakfast, lunch and dinner”. But us seasoned mothers know better, more like “breakfast, snack, snack, snack, lunch, snack immediately after lunch, snack after snack, snack after snack, snack snack, dinner, bedtime snack, avoiding going to sleep snack. And don’t think for a minute that you will be able to sneak a little treat all by yourself. Like me, when you have 5 children, and one piece of apple pie, you will be willing to sit on that pie if a child happens to come by while you are blissfully biting into the sweet sugary treat. They will smell it and ask you sternly like a toddler prison guard to open your mouth and show them your tongue.

You must not judge parents when they tell you how they got hungry for popcorn late at night, so they carried the popcorn maker, the bowls, and the salt to the bedroom, shutting the door and putting a towel down by the crack so as to block the floating smells, then on through the bathroom door, shutting and locking, and through the closet door, shutting it tight, and only then, through three closed and locked doors do they pop their popcorn before snuggling in bed to eat it in peace.

And last of all, we are not prepared for the sheer joy of having teenagers. Watching them make friends, talking to them as adults, teasing them, and having it thrown right back, rejoicing as they develop their own style, and even, yes, that phone call saying “Mom I am sorry, I wrecked the car”. I’ve already received that phone call, and my oldest is just 14.

“Its ok” I replied, “its just money”.

Money is replaceable, hearts are not, and words cannot be taken back.

When my husband came home, I asked to speak to him in the bedroom before he speaks to our son. His control was admirable. He is more hot headed than I am, and his flesh almost quivered. I was mildly alarmed seeing the throbbing vein in his forehead, so I made some quick soothing murmurs as he whispered hotly to me. My hand rubbed up and down his neck, and I carefully scratched his back the way he likes. Then together we walked to the living room to face our deeply chastened son. My husband remained very calm and gentle, however his eyes were a brilliant sky blue. Those blue eyes made me nervous and my hands made little fluttering calming motions behind my sons back. those who know my husband, know what those bright blue eyes mean.

Later, after the initial shock, we laughed and laughed and laughed together, but not that our children could see. It will cost thousands to fix, and it will be out of pocket, so for now, our bumper will remain smashed as we pay more important things. I cannot help but rejoice, knowing that God is allowing this to be a reminder to our son that one moment of carelessness, can bring heavy consequences.

You have to know when to tap out. There are times you must tap out and allow your husband/mother/sister/friend to take over.

Such as when your voice starts to bark. Either control it, or tap out. Your children do not deserve your vitriol just because you are tired. Be uncompromising with this principle. You will not believe how much it pays off.

When you have just had a baby, your nerves (can) resemble raw hamburger, and (you) may have no mental reserves. Ask for help, and then tap out to take a warm bath, or take a twenty minute nap.

Sometimes tapping out means you take a little break without handing off to another adult.

Instead of cooking, feed them cereal for a meal.

Instead of schooling them on that day you have a migraine, the rain is pouring down outside, and you have been in the camper for the entirety of a winter that is lasting 256 years, sit down with them, and laugh at a movie. The Beathoven series, Home Alone series, Baby’s Day Out, Cheaper By the Dozen, or if you are like me and love animation, The Croods (the movie) and Tom and Jerry are all hilarious, heart lightening movies. (I could mention many more)

Sometimes tapping out means you gather them up, load them in the car, release them beside the lake and let them play while you tap out on a towel in the sand, the warm sun beating down on your bare arms and legs.

The key to tapping out, is to not do it too quickly, but knowing when to do it. Grow those muscles, but don’t do it at your children’s expense.

Trust in the Lord with ALL your heart, don’t lean on your own understanding.

Listen to Holy Spirit with ALL your heart, he will nudge you when it’s time to take a step back. Ask him to poke you hard, every-time your mouth opens with hard, hurling words. Beg him to give you that gift, and then be prepared to listen. Sometimes you may even shout a child’s name, and as you shout the name, he will nudge you, you will remember, and you will follow it up with “I JUST LOVE YOU SO MUCH” shouted with a smile. Be sure and laugh at yourself as you whisper “Thank you Jesus”

My children have no idea the secret life inside my head.

No

idea

!!

“Mom please drive carefully. So you don’t mess up my hair”.

Where Shall a Mother Find Rest

I was standing in the shower, blissfully drinking in the heat and the sharp spray on my once again sunburned skin, when I heard a knock-knock-knock on the bathroom door. 

“Who is it” I shouted. (but not so loudly that our campground neighbors could hear.) 

“Mom” she said exasperated, “it’s just me, Ana”. 

“Come in”. I winced as I opened my hand and watched  my precious tidbit of privacy slip from my fingertips to  slither down the drain. 

2 minutes later: “CAN SOMEBODY WIPE ME” she roared. (Loud enough that the entire campground heard.) 

I stepped out, water dripping, to do the next right thing,  before scuttling back under the spray. She started vigorously washing her hands, sending me hurtling against the back wall of the shower, avoiding the water which had lowered to a bipolar, icy, hiccup. 

  Off she ran, leaving the door open. I step out, shielding myself with a shirt lying on the floor,  close the door, and get back into the shower. 

Bang bang bang. 

“Who is it”? 

“Mom can you hurry, I really need the bathroom” 

“Yes son, give me 1 minute.”

I’m not even disappointed, That is how life is in the camper. I wrap myself in the towel with soap suds clinging forgotten to the top of my scalp and  hurry to my bedroom to get dressed and lotion my sunburn. I eat a tiny piece of my favorite dark chocolate from my stash. It melts slowly in my mouth, as my sunburn cools under the cool wash of Aloe. I feel calm, benevolent even. My soul rocks easily at the bottom of my ocean. Nothing can touch me. I fly above this. I am doing this whole camper with 250 sheep, well. I eat another piece of chocolate, this one a little bit bigger than the last one. 

Bang bang bang  

I open the door a crack, and a chubby, little  hand pushes firmly at the door until it’s wide enough to slip through. In marches my smallest sheep, his face expectant and entitled as he rests his brown pebbles on his mother who is almost out of her secret stash of chocolate and trying hard to hold her mouth still. 

“Yum yum” he begs, laying the full force of those coffee bean colored eyes straight upon the spot in my heart that always feeds a begging dog. I weakly hand him my chocolate, and kiss his cheeks . 

Bang bang… “Mom can you tell me what this word is?”

Bang bang….. “Mom is my swimsuit out of the dryer?”. 

Bang bang…. “Mom can you zipper my dress?”

Bang Bang…. 

My glue suddenly fails me and I roar in my best Batman voice “hold all questions until I am dressed and out there again”. (the whole campground hears) 

  A loud, startled, silence falls over the camper. 

I squeeze my eyes shut, reach for the door, and go out into the hallway with my feathers very much reduced. “Children, I am sorry I yelled, can you forgive me?” 

“Oh yes, Mom, it’s not even a problem, we should have waited until you were out”. 

Greatly humbled, I dress, I check Instagram, I look at a recipe, I jolt awake and propel myself from the bottom of the ocean and up into the sunlight. 

  My five minutes of looking at a bruschetta gave me a tendril of my dignity back, and I tie it firmly around my waist before stepping out again to direct traffic on the busy highway of my kitchen.  

 Mothers don’t really get to ‘rest’ in so many words. We are busy all day, doing this, that, the other thing, and back to the original thing. The minute we think we have arrived, we see how very much we have not arrived. When our laundry baskets are all emptied, is when all our sheep need their wool scrubbed, the basket filling up so quickly, it’s like a time delay video.  At night we do not get done, we just stop. We tie our horses up, and we fall into bed hoping our little one will be cooperative and let us sleep. 

Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. But come morning, our duties do not end. We just pick up where we left off, and get back to it, sometimes so exhausted that all we can do is lay boneless on the couch and let them climb all over us like little centipedes with jam on their faces. 

   You do not realize this in the moment, but if you persevere, doing the next small thing that needs done, with pride and nobility, you are running your race well.  How can one change a diaper with nobility and pride, you ask. It’s not hard. You pick the baby up, you smile, you blow on his belly, you open the diaper, wipe his little round corners,  replace it with a fresh one, blow on his belly again, and put him back on the floor to merge back into toddler traffic. 

   Washing dishes, and folding laundry is the same way. So is sweeping the floors and cleaning the toilets while stuffing your offsprings heads with knowledge. 

  As a mother to 6, I can assure you, you will find rest again. A night of only four interruptions instead of twelve hundred, is coming.

 If you persevere, a night with zero interruptions will arrive at your doorstep. But it will arrive only after having been returned to sender, multiple times.

  Your husband may even see what he believes to be his ship on the horizon, however once it docks, it will not be his ship, it will be your sleep arriving. 

   Something important happens when a woman looses sleep, and becomes worn down with motherhood and life. It’s like magic, but it doesn’t feel magical.

 It feels more like you will die. 

But you won’t die. 

You just think you are tapped out, but trust me, there is still lots left. 

The only difference between an overwhelmed Mom with two children, and a Mom of six is the Mom of two, taps out sooner.  

  You have to build those muscles. You have to lift beyond your endurance, stretch to your limit, go until you feel like you are going to die. Then and only then will your muscles grow bigger and  stronger, until you are a lean machine that has no quit inside you. 

And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.
— Somewhere in Romans 5
   The longer you go without tapping out, exulting in your tribulations, the more you realize how much you can do; brings perseverance the less overwhelmed you feel; proven character the more confident you are; hope does not disappoint, the more rested you become. The love of God is poured out in your heart………

   Exult when you are exhausted, when your dishes pile high, when you are stretched like a rubber band, when your husband doesn’t have time to do those things on the list, and you will have to do them yourselves. Exult when life is hard. Exult because that is the sweet spot of growth. 

  I am going to repeat that for the Moms who woke up 40 times with toddler one and the nursling that nourished itself off of her very body. 

  

Exult because that is the sweet spot of growth. 

God IS Love

We were sitting outside under the carport in the shade, our bare feet making little scuffs on the pavement as we rocked back and forth in the hammock and glider, the cold ice tea in our hands dripping condensation onto our sunburned legs.

The feeling was a momentary lightning of my heart as I rubbed each droplet into my parched skin.

“Did it make you feel bad”? My friend asked.

We had been talking about a comment someone made in a group online, to something I wrote. She was angry, just like I would have been, had I seen someone being disrespectful to her. I threw my head back and laughed, “not one little bit, anytime someone comments, that comment is about them, not about me or my words.” I replied, as I pulled open my suitcase sloshing with the flotsam and jetsam of my tangled theories.

We sipped our tea, tipped open the suitcase and started sifting through the pieces inside, carefully placing the puzzle together.

Everyone filters what they hear and read through their own personal bias and experience. This is a truth I discovered a while ago, and at the time I pulled it out and closely inspected it for the flaw I knew had to be there. However after ruminating over it from early in the morning, and closely inspecting my knee jerk reactions from the safety of my ocean floor, I discovered it is indeed true.

That should sink all the way to the bottom of your ocean and cause some change as you think back and read over old comments you have written, your gently approving warbles, as well as your rude, inconsiderate remarks. Sentences pecking out of your righteously angered fingers as they pound the keyboard with one end in sight. To lower the person at the other end. To let them know how very much they resembled a chewed piece of gum on the bottom side of the table at the local pizza joint. (Next time you eat out, look under the table)

Pain (can) brings perspective and growth. It (can) carves out deep wells of empathy and compassion for others that will spill out over everyone we come in contact with giving us a heavenly mindset. Rather than seeking the experience of The American Dream, we seek to bring honor and glory to our Father who made all things, and is in all things good and perfect. In doing so, we find a peace that passes all understanding, and a joy that cannot be explained.

The pain of death, having your loved one abruptly taken from you, leaving you standing beside a hole in the ground with your head spinning. Pain (can)in a Christians life brings honor and glory to God as the outside world watches in awe at the peace and grace that a Christian experiences in the face of overwhelming loss.

The pain of a relationship insidiously slipping sideways. The terrible grief of a husband or wife who have been dishonored with an extramarital affair. The heartbreak of a mother as she sees her children suffer. The pain that would not have to be, may be the worst pain of all. Pain that doesn’t feel God sanctioned, making it feel ‘worthless’.

Pain is never wasted. Even the pain that is mixed with shame and condemnation. Pain is an integral part of life, and our Lord is a genius about taking the worse thing that ever happened to you, and making it the best thing that ever happened to you.

After all, what was the worse thing that ever happened on this earth?

Jesus was crucified.

What was the best thing that ever happened on the face of the earth?

Jesus was crucified!

(Thank you for that thought, Zac Poonen)

Pain can also make someone angry and bitter, and much like an insidious disease, it crowds more and more triggers into their peripheral, until they cannot see anything except brokenness and abuse. Unforgiveness comes along behind carrying a torch of suspicion and accusation. The final nail in the coffin is the culmination of these, causing a person to treat others as they have been treated, forcing them to believe they attract negativity and pain. As they sink back into solitude, neutered and impotent, only emerging from their hole to strike out with words, terrible jealousy stoking the furnace of their broken and embittered life.

I want to love these people, I want to care for them on a soul shaking level. I want to see past their words, looking squarely at the brokenness, and allow perfect love to flow like a cleansing river and wash away the clutter. Perfect love is a manifestation of wholeness. Perfect love heals and cures what nothing else can even touch.

Imagine a house completely hoarded to the max, the person living there, scratching around in the filth and clutter, climbing high to get from one room to the next, slipping silently into the little hole where they sleep, a tiny spot carved out with a blanket and pillow nested high on the filth, mice running all around them. They are completely and utterly trapped. They cannot get out on their own.

When help finally arrives, they resist it, getting angry as the muck is cleared from their house, weeping over the tufts of their long dead dogs fur found in the edges of the staircase. Crying and screaming and holding tight to a tin of outdated food. Gentle, loving, patient, firm and a steely resolve in the helper will rescue them. Soon they will be weeping over the sight of their clean floor, and a couch they haven’t seen in years.

Christians, the world needs you to love.

Love hard.

Love firm.

Love tight

Love and do not give up.

“Be completely humble and gentle, bearing with one another in love”. Somewhere in 1 Corinthians 16

“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins”.

“Since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. Somewhere in John 4

A Big Girl Pants Tutorial

4:30 am. I rolled over in bed, squinted towards the bedroom door to where a sliver of light lay softly over my feet, coming from the hallway. Mutely I press my face into my pillow and stifle a groan. “I will not complain” I mutter as I swing my feet out of bed, turn to kiss the sleeping baby, and reach for my robe.

I pad down the hall, down the steps, and into the kitchen where my husband visibly brightens. He says nothing to me, the darling man who has learned a thing of two in his almost 16 years of marriage to me, his wife who does not do mornings well.

My heart warms when he brings me my coffee. My steaming, hot cup of Kaffee brimming with healthy fats. I sit beside him with my Life Map in front of me. The words slip soundlessly under the surface, like a feather drifting to the bottom of my ocean where I am still, resting in a peaceful stupor. “If a soldier demands that you carry his gear for a mile, carry it two miles” I read.

Slowly my brain springs to life. Its 6:15 AM. My husband left for work. My sheep are starting to stir. My Kaffee is all gone, and I am ready to step forward into life and grasp it by the tail. I am ready to take dominion over my God given vineyards.

You are wondering where this is all leading, right?

What you see here in bold letters, are all the places that I pulled up my big girl pants. Pulling up your pants is an action verb. In that moment where your spirit shrinks, you reach down, you hike those pants to your chin, and you take a forceful step forward. (or a little stumble, as case may be)

Pulling up your big girl pants is not something that happens automatically. It’s not accidental, nor is it a habit. Just like you don’t wander out of the bathroom with your underwear and pants pooling around your ankles. Nope, you bend over and pull them up, some of us higher than others. (I see you with the underwear above your belly button) Life works the same. You can go around with your underwear and pants in place or you can stumble around with them pooling around your ankles.

“ Therefore, to him who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin.” Somewhere In James

“You shall be a daughter of Sarah if you do good, and are not afraid”. Somewhere in Peter

We know “to do good” is a good thing. But do we really know it. Do we know it all the way down at the bottom of our ocean where no one else sees?

Do we know it in a way that fills us with the power to do good?

Our life work is so simple. Walk forward, take the step that God has made clear. Wash those dishes, rock that baby, write that article, say YES to that opportunity that fell into your lap. (Sometimes the next right thing is to say NO)

Simply be obedient without worry for the next step, or how it will work out. Do the next right thing, from this minute, to the next minute, to the next hour, into the next day. As you see truth, walk in it, trusting our God to provide direction and reproof if needed.

Learn self control, if you want to learn how to most effectively pull up your pants. Self Control is integral to a life bringing honor and glory to God. Being a slave to your lusts and desires is the antitheses to a life lived in contented, joyful, victory.

“Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.” Somewhere in 1 Corinthians 9.

“So then, let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be awake and sober.” Somewhere in 1 Thessalonians 5.

And of course one of my favorites, “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.

Self-discipline is the precursor to pulling up ones pants. Self-discipline gives you the power to pull those pants up to your chin and wade straight into the fray.

I am going to include a quote from our pastor Steve Wilson at Grace Community Church in Bowling Green.

““This is the great adventure of the Christian life-that everything matters. There are no insignificant details in life. The Christian life is the most disciplined life of all, not constrained by the law but aware of the implications of every little thing in life. Every little thing matters. When I counsel people who’ve come to me because their Christian testimony doesn’t seem to have worked and their life is chaos, we don’t reach out and grab that big ball of chaos and try to make sense of it. We sit down and talk about the little things in their life that are contributing to the chaos that they can’t see the connection between. So, if you struggle with a lack of self-control and you’ve got addiction problems you would ask ‘how do we fix addiction?’. We’d start to talk about the little areas of self-control. What does your desk look like? What does your bedroom look like? What does your sock drawer look like? What does your car look like? You’re out of control everywhere. You’re not just out of control in one area. Instead of trying to stop alcoholism, why don’t you try to start folding your socks. Well, that just sounds silly to people, but it shouldn’t sound silly to Christians because we understand that nothing is insignificant. We begin with self-control in the areas where can exercise self-control and learn the benefits of it…..and suddenly you’re learning to gain control over these chaotic issues in your life”. ”