Leftovers

Photo Credit:  Anita Patterson from morgueFile.com

Ahhhh, the leftovers -  the scraps and random odds and ends of food left on a plate after the kids are done.  A half-eaten chicken nugget.  Ten macaroni and cheese noodles.  Five green beans.  Two sips of milk.  One strawberry with a bite taken out of it.  My husband refuses to waste and is forever (poor thing) the one to make their plates…happy plates.

He always takes his lunch to work and I’m certain his co-workers wonder if I ever cook normal meals.  His lunch medley is usually a fare of whatever leftovers are in the fridge and they never go together.  Let’s just say that no one has ever asked him to trade lunches.  Why refried beans, fish sticks and an egg roll would NOT appeal to someone, I don’t know!  But, that’s just how it is around here.

The one thing that he adamantly refuses to eat is my daughter’s hamburger.  She loves ketchup, which makes for a very soggy bun for daddy.  That’s when he puts his foot down and into the trash it goes without a second thought.

Leftovers can be found in many areas of our lives.  On many days, it seems as if we save our leftovers for the ones we love the most.  We spend our day giving what we have to give and sometimes our family gets the leftovers – our leftover time, our leftover patience, our leftover attention.

Can you just imagine if Mary had given the Angel Gabriel her “leftovers?”  It might have gone something like this – “Hey, look Gabe, I REALLY don’t have time right now.  I know what you have to say is important, but I’m so busy.  My to-do list is a mile long.  I’m beat.  I’ve had a long day.  I have nothing left to give. I just can’t help you.”  Whew!  I’m so thankful that she said, “His Will be done” instead.

Just the other day, an elderly woman I met told me her story about leftovers.  She said that she and her husband never had any money to give to church.  She said that once the bills were paid, repairs were made and groceries were bought, they had nothing left to give.  She explained that she and her husband wanted to try something different.  They gave to their church first.  She said from that day forward, they always had enough.  Always.

I think God sometimes gets our prayer leftovers, too.  I know at the end of the day, my prayers are much, MUCH shorter.  So, I did something that I had never done before.  I went to Mass…mid-week…at 7:30am.  I’m NOT a morning person, so this was a sacrifice for me.  I mean, I’m glad I wake up in the morning – it beats the alternative of NOT waking up, but let’s just say that I’m not fully functional until later in the day.

My main reason for going was not for me (so I thought).  I went for a friend who was struggling.  I set my alarm and left the house before my family of snoozers even stirred (my husband was off – no worries – I did NOT leave the children at home unattended J).  It was an amazing experience.  I saw the morning sun peaking through the clouds (a rare occasion for me) and there was such a calmness in the air.  Palpable peace. 

There were only a handful of people there, so it was very intimate.  It was especially touching because the people there really wanted to be there.  They came to offer themselves, their time, their fears, their intentions...their everything...at the foot of the cross. 

The message that echoed throughout Mass that morning was this..."The Lord will not abandon his people."  It took everything out of me not to just sob myself silly in that pew, since I knew that was a message directly intended for my friend.  He listens.

Ironically, my friend had actually given me a gift - the gift of knee time - a gift that she didn't even know she had given me.  That morning, I felt like I didn’t just give God my leftovers.  I had given to Him first.  I have never started my day off more wonderfully.  When I let my friend know that I had gone that morning for her, she responded, “Today was the best day I’ve had since he died and now I know why.  Thank you more than words can say!”  God’s mercy.  (sniff, sniff)

A few days ago I had an e-mail chat with two of my friends, Milissa and Anne.  The topic was “knee time vs. me time.”  Milissa said, “I thought of what Jesus says in Matthew 16:24 – you must deny yourselves, take up your cross and follow me.  We must deny ourselves…myself…me…and get on our knees to be with Jesus.  The world today doesn’t accept ‘knee time’ as a necessary and vital part of life.”

Anne explained her take – “Knee time IS me time – it’s time to separate from all the worldly obligations and responsibilities and turn to God and empty the space between us and Him.  No matter who or what the prayer intention, the end result is the same…being closer to God…that’s definitely a me thing.”

And, from the wonderful book, “Relentless Hope” –

“No matter the desert, no matter the wilderness, there is nowhere we can wander off to, no land where the heat is too strong, nowhere God can’t make a roadway or a river of living water to refresh us.  God is doing something new.  The story may look grim, but he’s turning the page.  What are my choices?  Despair.  Discouragement.  Anger.  Self-pity.  Self-righteousness.  Self-destruction.  Or.  Faith.  Grace.  Joy.  In others, with others, in and with myself, in God.  Hope.  For a lifeline, for a bigger picture, for a heavenly purpose, for what we need exactly on time.  I will lean in.  I will stand up.  I will reach out.  I will hope.  Relentlessly.”

The great news is that God loves us even if we give Him our soggy, ketchupy hamburger buns – the leftovers.  He will always take us when no one else will.  I have relentless hope that He’ll gladly accept our leftovers, but I want to try harder.  I want to give Him more than just what’s left on the plate at the end of the day.

Distractions Welcomed

Photo Credit:  Di-Fi at morgueFile.com

I assure you that the title says distractions and NOT donations!  Honest!  But, why would I even say that distractions are welcomed?  That doesn’t seem right now, does it?  Distractions usually have such a negative connotation.  Distractions are interruptions, disturbances or disruptions that can produce much agitation and possibly slight confusion on the part of the individual being disturbed. (I’m just sayin’…)

A few of the many distractions that moms encounter on a day-to-day basis typically involve their pint-sized loved ones.  Am I right?  Here is a representative two-hour sample of one of our recent summer days…

Mom:  “Hey guys, I need to call someone real quick and I need to hear what they’re saying this time.  Please be quiet for just a few minutes.”

(Quiet for…one entire minute.)

Child:  “Moooooohhhhhmmmmmm, she messed up my puzzle!”  (Crying escalates quickly and I find the nearest closet to hide in to finish the conversation.)

Then, I head to the laundry room to start washing the first of three loads for the day.

Child:  “Mom, Mom, come quick - my hand is glowing.  I accidentally split open this neon glow wand.”

I stop doing laundry to clean up the nuclear hand and then resume the laundry.

Child:  “Mom, we’re starving!!!  What are we having for lunch?”

I list the two choices and neither choice is appealing to the bunch.

Child:  “We don’t like thaaaaaat.  You NEVER give us anything good.  Yucky.  We like to eat at Nanny’s or Mimi’s house better.”

We finally agree on a palatable, yet semi-nutritious lunch and then I throw the clothes into the dryer.

Child:  “Mom, I need to go tee-tee REAL bad.”

I make a mad dash to the potty with the little one.

Child:  “Mom, what can we do?  There’s nuthin’ to do.  We’re (gasp) bored.”

Mom:  “Oh, you did NOT just say that!”  Then, I list all of the fun things that we could do inside because it has rained twelve inches over the last two weeks and we have a mosquito reunion going on right outside our front door.

I entice the older two with Play-doh, start doing the dishes and then I hear, “Moooohhhhhmmmm…can you come wipe me?!  I went poo-poo…” yelled from across the house.

So, there ya have it.  A little bit of heaven on earth.  Of course, there are many, many wonderful moments that happen in between all of the disruptions, but I’m just tellin’ it like it is for this Mommy.

Just the other morning, my son got up early and came into my room several times asking me random questions (not unlike any other day, really) while I was trying to get just a few more moments of shut-eye before the girls woke up.  I can’t remember the answers that I mumbled back, but it was indeed distracting and it kinda irked me to tell you the truth.

Then, for the first time in his 8 ½ years of life, he proudly walked into my bedroom again and hand-delivered breakfast in bed!  Once I realized what was going on, I then vaguely recalled the questions he was asking me: “What are we doing today?  Do you like sausage by itself or mixed with egg?  Can I show Jackson the squid that I put in the freezer?  How many days until school starts?”

Luckily, my husband had prepared a bowl of scrambled eggs with sausage before he left for work (thank you, honey!), so my son just put a few scoops of that into a Cars bowl and put a paper plate underneath it.  Then, in another plastic bowl with a paper plate underneath, he had Greek yogurt with blueberries and four cherries on top.  I could not have been more proud of my little man.  I love that kid and yes, distractions like that are so welcomed, I assure you!  I smiled as I ate my cold eggs and fruited yogurt in bed.  It was a delightful distraction.

My sister-in-law, Stephanie, sent me a wonderful blog post to read the other day about distractions.  I wasn’t quite sure what the post was going to be about since the title was, “Your Screaming Kids are Distracting Me.”  I was curious to see where the blogger was going to go with that title.

After reading it, I was so encouraged by the post that I wanted to pass the highlights on to you.  In this post, Meg Hunter-Kilmer shared her thoughts after the sound of a wailing toddler distracted her during the middle of a holy hour, a quiet prayer time at church.

She explained that she was really focused (on everything BUT prayer) at the time the bawling began.  She wrote, “I heard the dulcet tones of a toddler tantrum and couldn’t help but thank God for the luxury of silent prayer.  I heard footsteps and a door opening and offered a prayer for the patience of that poor parent.  I prayed for those who were really angry about the disturbance.  I prayed in thanksgiving for the gift of life.”

Hunter-Kilmer said that when parents take their children to church, they are really helping to make saints of the people around them.  “You’re pulling them out of their self-obsession and reminding them that being at Church is about emptying ourselves for God and each other.”

She wrote that many times we just talk on and on and on to God about ourselves and just tag an “Amen” onto the end.  She encouraged parents by saying that screaming kids can be a great distraction – a distraction from ourselves.  She wrote, “We start praying for you.  Or for them.  We pray for single parents.  We pray in thanksgiving for our grown children or we beg for screaming children of our own.”

Meg said that if normal noises of your children are distracting her, she was going to be distracted anyway.  “Ooh look at her shoes!  I wonder how many states have more vowels than consonants.  How far is it from here to Maine?  I should make a pie this afternoon.  314159.  What would I even do with a giant mouse suit?”

She ended her piece by assuring parents that their children are indeed distracting her from the endless series of irrelevant thoughts that occupy her “praying” mind and she is truly thankful for that.  I really enjoyed her take on distractions and thought you might too.

Just like a season in the desert can make us appreciate the sight of life-giving water again, I think a strategically placed diversion can put us back on the right path.  If a distraction can draw me into a deeper and more meaningful prayer life, then distractions are certainly welcomed here.  And, if the distraction involves breakfast in bed, bring it on!

Bad Bananas

Photo Credit:  ppdigital at MorgueFile.com

On the phone the other day, I jokingly asked a couple of my good friends, “So we’d still be friends if I, let’s say, lost my left front tooth and didn’t replace it?”  There was an excruciatingly long pause after my question.  What the?!  Surely they were just taking a big drink of water or finishing up chewing a bite of supper or something?

I mean, really.  Certainly our years of friendship mean more than a missing front tooth?  Right?!  Of course, I knew I completely caught them off guard with my question and sort of expected a delayed response or a comical one at the very least.  I got both.  One of my friends said she would still be my friend, but wasn’t sure she could ever look at me again.  The other one said she wouldn’t be able to be seen with me in public any longer, but we could remain friends – (phone friends, I’m guessin’?)

Both conversations ended in much laughter and I was lovingly assured that we’d still have our wonderful friendships (if I got an implant, that is – hee hee).  Unfortunately, my question was rooted in truth (pun intended).  In middle school, I caught a line drive with my teeth instead of my glove on the pitcher’s mound.  Nice catch, Heather!  Some oral surgery and two root canals later, my teeth are still managing to hang on.

However, at my most recent dentist visit, I was informed that my body has shunned my left front tooth and doesn’t think it should be a part of my smile.  Apparently, it could just be a matter of time before I’m the one awaiting a tooth fairy visit.  Ugh!  Don’t think for one second that I’m not praying harder than ever that my tooth will prevail and keep on keepin’ on!  I am deathly afraid of dental work and I think that would be putting it mildly.

Well, how ‘bout that!  All of a sudden, after 25 plus years, my body decides it doesn’t like the not-so-perfect tooth.  How lucky are we that our bodies don’t reject a tooth for every bad decision we make along the way?  Break a commandment?  There goes an incisor.  Treat someone meanly?  Oops – lost a canine.  Spread nasty rumors?  See ya later molar.  Aren’t we lucky to have a merciful God?  We’d all be running around without teeth, huh?  We’re so blessed that God doesn’t decide to get rid of us even though we fail Him again and again and again.

We’re not perfect…but that can be a good thing.  I was reading a friend’s facebook post the other day and this particular one really inspired me.  Nicole wrote this, “I almost threw out some badly bruised bananas this morning, but instead I made banana nut muffins.  Each time I bake these, I think of how we are sometimes like the bruised, bad bananas.  But no matter what shape we're in, God never throws us out.  Instead, if we let Him, He chooses to use us in ways that are better than we could have imagined.”

Bad bananas.  Hmmm…I like it.  There is also another produce item that has always intrigued me.  Watermelon.  Summer time equals watermelon around here and we are always in search of the perfect one.  I don’t know about you, but watermelon shopping can be tricky.  You never know what will be waiting for you on the inside of one.

Here’s what I found out while researching watermelons:  First, we have to look for a light yellowish or white area somewhere on the melon (the “sugar spot”) to indicate the belly of the melon rested on the ground to ripen.  Second, the outside color should be glossy green and not pale.  Then, we need to hold the melon up and thump it quickly like a drum.  The sound should vibrate evenly through the entire melon.  (At the very least, we will be getting some grocery store attention during all of this…)

Finally (this is a new recommendation that I haven’t tested out yet), I hear that if you find small black bits on a scar of a watermelon, you’ve found a goldmine of sweetness.  The black bits are supposedly drops of juice that have made their way out of the watermelon. The black sugar bits can be found on the ends of the watermelon, too.  The more bits, the better.

Now, I’ll go ahead and confess.  I don’t think I’ve ever purposely chosen a watermelon with black bits, or even a scar for that matter.  I don’t know why.  I just figure that if it’s flawed on the outside, it might be flawed on the inside.  Boy, was I wrong with that assumption!

This makes me think about a book I am reading right now called, “Relentless Hope” by Beth Guckenberger.  She writes, “It’s so the enemy’s tool – to divide us, to make us feel like we are the chief of all sinners, to want us to be disqualified.  I can only imagine God is heartbroken when we focus on our failures and not on his redemption.”

I truly don’t think that God wants us to focus on our failures…our scars…our bruises.  My friend, Dorian, has St. Augustine’s quote at the top of her blog – “A Christian should be an Alleluia from head to foot.”  She also says, “I’m about 12% Alleluia on any given day, but I’m working on it.”  I just love that.  It makes me smile every time.  All of us are striving to do better – to be better.

We can always better ourselves.  We can persevere.  The little turtle reached that Ark only through perseverance and determination, I’m certain.  Surely he was overwhelmed and discouraged along the way as all the other animals seemed to effortlessly pass him by?

My daughter’s teacher, Donna, read an amazing story to all of us mommies at a Mother’s Day celebration in May.  The tears were flowing that day and I couldn’t make them stop.  The story she read hit close to every mom’s heart in that room.  So as not to forget the story, I bought the book - “I’ll Do Better Tomorrow, I Promise” by Maurine Reynolds Adamek.

Let’s just say that the little boy in the book gives his mommy a day full of challenges – picking all the yellow blooms off the tomato plants, pulling up the baby carrots he mistook for weeds, cutting his sister’s hair, releasing his pet mouse from the cage, letting the water overflow in the bathtub – just to name a few.

The mom in the story kneels by her son’s bed that night with tears streaming down her face.  The son (who wasn’t actually sleeping…) thought the tears were for all of the trouble he had caused her.  But, then, she whispers in prayer:  “God, forgive me for today…for not being more understanding when those problems came my way…for not handling situations in the way You wanted me to…for getting angry and losing my temper, things I know You don’t want me to do.  And, God, please give me more patience, help me make it through another day, I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise…in Jesus’ name I pray.”

I think of the bruised, bad bananas and the scarred watermelons.  Aren’t we so like them?  If only we’d give ourselves a chance to do better.  If only others would give us a chance?  A chance to see what’s on the inside?  From now on, if someone says there is always “one bad banana in the bunch,” (and they just so happen to be referring to us), I think we should take it as a compliment.  God isn’t through with us yet.  He has plans to make us into something absolutely wonderful.  Let Him.