Redeeming Not-Perfect

There is so  much more to say on the subject every time I blog.

It doesn't matter what the subject is,

I always feel like I want to put more meat on each idea and serve it up better.

In my last post I used the phrase "Maybe I don't want [a world that is] perfect."

Doesn't that create a whole bunch of weird in your head? 

It does mine.

Looking at my world through God's eyes, maybe I do want perfect.

I want Perfect, but have lived with so much 

Not Perfect 

that I forget Perfect is possible.
I want "my perfect" on my terms.

I know He created Eden and He will recreate Perfection again in the future.

We all ache for "Eden" in some way, I believe 

-even before we know what the ache is.

I know it's my sin that separates me from His Perfection 

and that every single particle on earth has been affected 

by our rejection of God's design.

We're messed up, and we can't fix it.

The unfathomable beauty of the situation 

is that He can fix it.

He takes Not Perfect, and makes it into something else.

We describe His fixing work in a word I love:

Redemption

God, with His Amazing Grace, (ah, another word that wraps me with His love!)

takes what is broken and makes it not only whole, but perfect.

He buys back the things we've done and had done to us, 

creating the new thing that is Redeemed.

In my own life, the grief of losing a daughter 

has opened my heart to birth parents in a way 

I don't think I would have without the loss: redemption.

 The difficult times when I couldn't deal with the unbelievable pressure 

of raising three children (way back then...!) gives me sympathy for 

the young momma and her rough day: redemption.

A mother who knows she can't raise another child in her already difficult life 

gave that child a family and "a goodly heritage:" redemption.

Any grief, any happiness, any pain, any hard thing

 can be given into His hands, and He does His miracle: redemption.

So, when I look at our world that is truly messed up 

and children who ache for 

What Should Be, not What Is, 

I have hope.

Sometimes, I ache and am a little confused how I can best impact 

One More.

I want to experience the thing God does when He fixes our messes.

I want to be a part of His plan to take the broken and offer them 

His Love and 

Grace and 

Life.

And The Million Dollar Question still stands,

"What else does He want me to do?"

The Million Dollar Question

Dear Ones, I don't do guilt well. 

I truly try to avoid creating it as I blog:

you don't need my good days making your day seem bad, 

and I don't need my bad days making you all smug. 

I make a smashing attempt at keeping guilt out of my wifing.

I am becoming more sensitive about not using guilt in my parenting.

Some of you may disagree, but I don't think I use guilt in my friending, either. 

.at least, not often. at least, not intentionally.

So I guess this preface is just to say, work with me on this one.

Creating action based in guilt, especially stemming from someone else's passion,
 is NOT my agenda.

 And this post may create more Angst than Answers, but it's where I am.

I'm still struggling to find my place regarding this "Issue:"

Why does our world, our country, 

still have children without forever parents?

...and what can I do?

I recognize there are other truly devastating social issues 
that abound in our society,

but, you understand, that this one 

has my heart.

And I don't know what to do.

I can't fix it.

I sit at my almost new Mac near a pantry full of food,

with a bag of clothes nearby that my children are discarding. 

Each child asleep under this roof has more toothbrushes in their 

bathroom drawer than their dental check up would have you believe.

We drive to Grandma's (a mere two doors away) if it's raining,

in the van we can keep filled with gas easier than we can 

keep clean--often because we left our excess behind us.

This post isn't about our wastefulness, or our consumerism. It isn't about whether we love Jesus enough to use fewer squares of toilet paper with each flush so we can send $10 more each year to an under privileged country to put a band-aid on human suffering.

(That's another post...wait, that's someone's whole book...)

I recently read a blogger who stated that in a perfect world, 

                                                  all children would stay with their birth parents. 

That sat very hard on me. for a long time.

I still flinch as I type it.

No, in a perfect world, I'd still have my Beth. Right? 

In a perfect world, Ben and Matthew are still Derschs and Maylin comes home.

In a perfect world, maybe she was not discarded for her imperfection,

  but still, somehow, she's ours.

She is OURS, she is US, so how could there be a different plan and it be perfect?

And in a perfect world, our daughter, Ashley, arrived right on time with a completely whole body

...which means Anne was never born.

Maybe I don't want perfect.

But the blogger was right: God's intention wasn't for children to
grow up without direction, love, and care
from the persons who birthed them.

The sin issues of my world have created a void in our families 

as disease and 

self-centeredness and

a multitude of other issues that are sometimes out of one's control

shift the value of family far off course.

We're broken.
We didn't start here.
And I know I cannot fix it.

It takes very little time to Google search
orphan care
children's homes
parentless children
orphanages

Try an image search of the same topics,
and see faces instead of numbers.

I can't make it go away.

Taking another Dear One into our arms leaves at least 

147 million

without.

And while I repeat, I don't know the right thing to do,

I'm certain that doing is the right thing.

The book of James lets me know that my Faith will naturally put shoes on, and go do. 

When I look at my options, I don't want the financial resources
entrusted to our family to feed a child so he or she can be healthy
yet leave him or her still unreached with God's Truth.
I am interested in helping provide physical needs like health care,
and clean water, and school supplies to orphans, but the thought
 of only delaying their Christless death horrifies me.

Humanitarian efforts are, ironically, Human.

I want to join a God Thing.

Hmmm...actually, I want to BE a God Thing.

In being good stewards of God's earthly "treasure," I am seeking ways to impact need
while giving opportunity for planting the seed of the Good News
that Christ died to bring us life.
I  am seeking ways I can impact need while being
the Messenger of Hope with my time and God's love.

I am certain that God doesn't look at the Children of His World and say, "Uhhhm , that one doesn't really need a parent. I think I'll leave that one to fend for himself."
 He does, apparently, allow us that grim possibility. Which child should we leave
without care.
without direction.
without correction.
without hope.
without parents.
without Him.

The options are endless in how we can affect our country's orphans foster children.

The possibilities in helping to bring a kid into her forever family gives me a thrill,

but it isn't the only way I might be called to nurture her, protect her, love her.

The need is staggering when you look at the numbers.

The need is heart-breaking when you look at the faces.

Domestically and internationally (that's "here" and "there" for those of you who hate big words)

I can choose to impact ONE. Just one more.

"If we don't take him, Mom, how will he learn about Jesus?"
Jonathan, in answer to my question whether he thought 
this baby we were being asked to adopt was his brother,  October 2000

"Old parents are better than no parents."
A frequent saying on adoption groups electronic boards.

"You can't bring them all home with you."
Who hasn't heard that one before leaving on a m*sson trip?

“I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.”

         Helen Keller

My question for me (directed at God) is 

"What else does He want me to do?"

A quick disclaimer: This post is in no way preparing you 

for the announcement that we're bringing home another child. I don't see that in our future. 

Believe it or not, I don't even consider this post as an ad specifically for adoption.

I just want to impact one more. 

I'd love for you to drop a line with what He is showing you regarding where You get to join Him in the work He is doing. I'd love a quick word in the comment box to stretch us all into thinking 

outside the box and into His glory...

and a prayer for me as I continue to be open to where and when He says, 

"Jump in, Girl. You won't be perfect, but I will."

Finishing a post about a topic dear to my heart may be my one weakness.

It Really is the Best

Young Love is The Best.

It's full of inexperience longing to become savvy. 

It's vibrant, and dynamic 

and demanding of time and energy. It's new and  inquisitive and sometimes, a little arrogant. 

Young love thinks it has it (mostly) all together. 

It thinks it's the only Love that has really ever truly mattered, anywhere, anytime. 

It flaunts it's newness in exotic colors and knows you are just a little j.e.a.l.o.u.s. 

although you are too kind to admit it.

It really is The Best.

Well, until it's just a little more mature and then Young Love looks like 

a lot of craziness to it's new, more grown-up self. 

Stable and secure, Mature Love appreciates the fervor that came with Young Love, 

but doesn't really miss the roller coaster ride it sometimes produced. 

At least, it doesn't miss it often. 

Maturing Love now thrives in the comfort and familiarity that time has given it. 

It recognizes that the Passion of recklessly diving into Adventures has it's dividends, 

but it prefers 

the gifts of stability, and knowledge. 

Precarious moments result more often from inattentiveness than misplaced passion, 

but Mature Love choses to feed itself a healthy diet of 

Forgiveness and 

Grace and 

Appreciation.

There are good things to be found in predictability, 

and Mature Love abounds with routine.

It really is The Best.

Well, it's the best until something more firm and thoughtful and dependable 

arrives in a somewhat solid package of Old Love. 

It has a few scars and the edges might be fraying a little, but it's 

True to the Core. 

There really isn't any shaking it. 

Old Love has the best of every part of itself wrapped in a slightly wrinkled, ever-so-gently mended garment of colors so intricate and rich that it often denies description.

 It has seen the salty tears of joys too deep to share with those outside itself. 

It's borne the pains of loss and sometimes betrayal, 

but always of healing. It's interesting that healing sometimes hurts.

Old Love knows it has grown far enough outside of itself that it will never be alone, 

even on the hollow nights when it can't touch another. 

It has fewer expectations, 

but it's graced with gifts Young Love never even heard whispering it's name. 

It really is The Best.

I had the great fun to share some thoughts at a Bridal Shower today. In a cross-cultural marriage like we celebrated, it's interesting to realize that 

Healthy Marriages

contain very common requirements regardless of the culture.

I shared what God's Word tells us about Love as a married woman. The first way God instructs us to love our husbands is through obedience: the dreaded "S" word of submission. Honestly, submission to our husband can be (excruciatingly)  difficult for us at times, yet obedience is really the base, the foundation, of what God expects from us. God doesn't promise mutual submission (of hubby to her and her to hubby) although that is His intent. 

He simply instructs the woman to obey. 

Feelings don't necessarily even have to come into the equation: many an arranged marriage through the ages proved that you don't even have to know him, much less like him, to simply obey him. It's the easiest...and the hardest...part of being married.

We most often think of Love as the basis for a successful marriage. Love comes in three intertwined packages in the Bible. 

God's Word celebrates the physical passion that married couples get to enjoy. (Check out the Song of Songs, written by that hot-boy, Solomon.) 

It also beautifies the kindred-spirit type of friendship that a healthy marriage needs. (Often called "brotherly love") 

His Word reveals the love that only God can give us to love selflessly, and completely without expecting a return. (The Greek word, agape, sounds like something Dory would say as she looked for Nemo...just keep swimming...)

If those two things (1. submission and 2. all three parts of love) exist in a marriage, I'd say it's a healthy marriage. It would be an enviable marriage. But like all good, God-things, 

marriage has true satisfaction hidden in one more spot: reverence. 

Reverence? really? Like the fear kind of reverence?

Yup.

When you chose each other, God chose to place Him over you in a protective position. That knowledge ought to keep your heart sober toward your husband. He gave your man the responsibility for your well-being and your nurturing. God deals with the husband that doesn't fill his role as God designed it. Reverence means we, as wives, need to be serious about keeping our guy in the best possible light as we can. For us funny-girls, it means not making jokes (no matter how gut-splittingly clever the joke may be!) at his expense. For you mean-girls, (see how carefully I worded that to exclude myself? aren't I clever?) it means corking it even when he is stupid in public. or in private. or anywhere. 

I want the Best of all Loves. 

I want my marriage to be 

Our Own Little Love Affair

that makes the kids blush and our parents roll their eyes.

I want to know that he knows that I know He's 

The Best Thing that ever Happened to Me.

Because he is.

Time with Mark might be my one weakness.

Five Months in Derschdom

How could I not write a quick something about 

Life in Derschdom 

when Maylin has been home for 5 months?

I would love to recap the month in some tidy little capsules for you to ingest, and let you get a feel for what life is like in Maylin's world--Our world. 

I had an appreciation tonight, while I wrote the name of each family member in her little pink notebook ("my book. not Beff. Grammaaaaaa, give Beff book. Mama, Maylin book") that Maylin is (and will be) who she is (and will be) because of all those names we were practicing.

I alluded in an earlier post that it is fun to watch the personalities that God put together in our family help Maylin grow in various ways. Tonight I wrote each name and we compared 

M-m-m-m-Maylin and M-m-m-m-Mama. SAME!

and

B-e-th is like B-e-n. Buh-eh,  Buh-eh, Beth. Buh-eh,  Buh-eh, Ben. SAME!

When the line-up of names have a pattern, like ours do,
it makes for some built-in phonics lessons.

Look carefully for the stocking on the "stairs"

 I confidently bought "our final and forever" Christmas stockings in 2009 

and had them monogrammed:

M

D

J

J

A

A

B

B

M

Conveniently, Mark was okay with giving up his stocking, so the M that used to mean Mark now represents Maylin. Mark and I will get new ones that don't "match-match" the rest.  It's all good.

I must admit in the quietest corners of my Mother-heart, I wondered back in 2006, with the adoption of Matthew, if  one day, we'd have another M coming.  

My hat is off to those who bring home an older child as an "only." I am not sure Maylin or I could handle that kind of pressure. I like her. I love her. I enjoy her. And after a school day alone with her, I quietly breathe a tiny sigh of relief when she heads off to interact with someone other than me.

But there's also a down-side to those taking the pressure off me.

She is like most six year olds: a sponge.

She is learning English at a staggeringly quick pace (of which our friends learning Czech were jealous) and she is beginning to share some Chinese words for items in our daily life and she is 

Americanizing in remarkable ways, including the intonation of 

nanny-nanny-boo-boo.

Tongue.stuck.out.

Head.wagging.side.to.side.

Hands.on.hips.

Taunting a sibling, just like she'd been taught: by that same sibling.

The youngest three are at difficult ages in the maturation process, regardless of any other curve balls they might experience: 6, 9, and 10. The 11 year old doesn't factor into this particular discussion because he has a whole different set of dynamics at work in his relationships with the other Littles. From 9-12 are the years that I have found my kids need more assistance in learning what 

kindness means in day-to-day life. They have gained the independence of having their own extensive interactions, well outside of adult earshot at times, while not having an fully developed sense of self-control when it comes to handling (or avoiding) conflict.

What that looks like for this season in our home is that two of the kids gang up on the third by being unkind, or exclusive, and just plain mean. And tomorrow, the dice are rolled again, and a different two kids turn on the third. What one used as a taunt yesterday is turned back on their tender feelings today...and it isn't nearly as fun to receive as it was to give! 

(See? Your mom was right: "It IS better to give than receive." But not in ways I'd prefer...)

When I'm not over-tired, I actually think it's a great thing that we're at this annoying spot. It helps me know that Maylin's emotional age is pretty close to her chronological age, and that she is right about where my other kids have been developmentally at 6 years old. While I don't enjoy the discomfort of dealing with the issues, it gives me very concrete examples for us to consider how we feel when we are treated "that way." 

A character issue that dove-tails with this is the sibling who assumes the authority of the parent over their sibs. Every kid is susceptible. I don't think we parents sound as bossy as they sound when they try it.

YOU CAN'T DO THAT.

GET OFF MY CHAIR.

YOU CAN'T EAT THE LAST ONE WITHOUT ASKING OTHERS.

PUT YOUR FOOT DOWN.

GIMME THAT.

 (ha! as if I ever sound like that....uh, only occasionally...maybe...)

A friend with kids of similar ages to ours has instituted a delightful thing in her home. If a child wants to exert parental authority over a brother or sister, they pay by getting parental responsibilities. She starts with the especially fun ones:  like toilet cleaning. They have more than one toilet in the house, so she can add to the list if the child choses to not respond quickly, sweetly and completely. Isn't that a clever training tool? She's proving to be a resourceful mom and great friend in my life.

It helps to have a good sleep, and remember that I'm in this training thing because God has put it all together in this way, for this time. I'll embrace it, as much as possible.

So, now I owe you an update on Maylin, specifically.

She is amazing in the most amazing ways. Her Chenglish continues to add vocabulary and speed. She is more comfortable, or her brain is more accepting, of using both English and Chinese. She'll correct our pronunciation when we ask her about words/items. (So, we'll probably sound like fluent 6 year olds when we use Mandarin!) She can count up to 60 almost independently and then tires out (it is boring...) but makes it to 100 with few mistakes when we count along. Maylin recognizes the written and oral numbers 1-10 and can put them in proper order. She enjoys doing household tasks, and forks are never lined up neater than when she helps me unload the dishwasher. She plays favorites between Mark and I. We don't let it faze us, and she switches randomly. She's still pretty impressed with the size of the family. "Many, many. Beeg." was repeated several times as she looked over the list of family names we wrote in her prized notebook this evening.

The highlight of the month for me was the Children's Christmas Musical at church. Maylin glowed as she dressed in her new clothes. She sparkled as she took the stage with the other kids. She radiated pure happiness for 45 minutes while she stood and sang (and occasionally bellowed) the songs she had practiced daily for the past 4 months. Her lip sync was off a little on some of the trickier lyrics, but her heart never missed a beat of the music. Pure joy. It makes me cry again as I remember it. She was the happiest she's been since she came home.

I probably have hardships coming this year, and maybe some things I'd consider unbearable. I'm pretty certain I have great joys headed my way, also. But regardless of the circumstances, whether I'm refereeing round 6 of Childhood Squabbles, or wallowing in sweet hugs and Christmas performances,

I want to take joy in it.
Be intentional.

Smell the roses.
Remember to make memories.
Do my best to make Derschdom Home Base,
where they can run back to when they need to be safe.
Or if they need ice cream.

Our Pigs' Trough of ice cream. Oh, yeah.

Four Months and a Lifetime

In some place in my heart, I knew this day would come. 

Way back when we received the referral for Guo FuZhi, I knew I would have this moment. 

I've BTDT with adoption, so I knew.

Our first night together, July 31, 2011. Peter teaching Maylin we were a jiah, family.

Yet, it snuck up on me.

And I was surprised.

Today, I was just Maylin's mom. 

Not her new mom. 

Not her second mom.

Not the lady trying to be her mom.

Holiday Inn Shifu, Guangzhou 

Just.her.mom.

It happened sometime when I calmly told her to go to her room for hitting her brother with a drumstick.

It was when she looked at me with sad, but angry, eyes and sulkily obeyed.

It happened 3 minutes later when I got down at eye level and told her I would not let Beth or Matthew hit her. Ever.

It was when I reminded her, I would not allow her to hit Beth or Matthew. Ever.

It was when I took her hand and brought her to the kitchen to help me finish making supper by mixing the orange and grapefruit salad that didn't need to be stirred.

That's when I forgot I did not have this daughter in my home for the past 6 years.

She was just that.

Just.my.daughter.

I don't know how to explain to non-adoptive parents what this adoption thing is like.

At first, my child wasn't connected to me in anyway.

Even when I saw her, and touched her, and bathed her, and brushed her teeth.

I loved her fiercely, but we had no history together outside of each of our dreams.

And then, we did.

I never forget that my children who came to us through adoption have first parents;

not while I comb that stick straight hair, or smooth the wrinkles on the school shorts, or remind him to turn the shirt right-side-out, or swell with pride as I watch her performance, or kiss his sweaty neck as he sleeps.

Yet I feel like I am their first parent.

I didn't create them; yet I create them every day.

It isn't all that different than the kids who joined our family through our genetics.

Each of the 8 were hand-picked when God wove their DNA together. He selected each variable from the strands...and created the child He planned for His Glory. Then He gave them to us.

And I'm just his Mom.

I'm just her Mom.

What has Maylin experienced in her four months and a lifetime as a Dersch?

She's driven in a car everyday. She's eaten ice cream regularly. She has her own baby doll. She loves to swim. She differentiates between Grandma and Papa, Grandma, and Grammy. She wraps the Bigs around her finger. She eats 2 fried eggs a day (nearly always.) She still refuses to teach me Chinese, but agrees with a head nod and a "yah" when I "google translate" it. She participates in 4H Club. She enjoys petting Lucy and giving her treats. She survived the pediatrician and enjoyed the dentist. She's been on a boat, and she's gotten wet in the ocean. She's seen waterfalls in NC, and a wedding in OK. She waits impatiently for her Baba to come home each night. She knows the days of the week and what happens each of those days. She lavishes me with hugs and sweet kisses. 

Her Chenglish is adorable.

"Moot a wah Hee?"  (Go ahead, say it out loud...you'll laugh at the sound itself, even if you don't visualize Maylin's head cocked to the side, with a DVD next to her sweet smile. Say it again and compare the sounds to "watch a movie?" I'm not fixing that phrase...yet.)

Her friend Mackenzie is "Mahg kee gee." We count her friends by name several times a week.

I can't even begin to phonetically show you how she says "oranges." Just let me tell you it has NOTHING to do with the letters that are in that word.

Maylin gave a full story to our friend, Debbie, on Sunday regarding our returning a coat to Debbie's son. Debbie got the whole thing. 

Maylin is sassy and confident in most situations where she feels secure. She still takes emotional cues by watching my face when she isn't certain how to navigate.

I've witnessed a stunning performance of her screaming at a sibling, while she thought I was still out of the house. When I walked in on the sound, I was sure it was a "blood or fire" issue. As I watched briefly from the doorway, she was angry for not getting her (unreasonable) request. The noise ceased in an amazing heartbeat when she saw me, and a "I'm so busted" smile lit her face. I've seen great kitchen performances before (a special shout-out to my niece Stephanie) but none so refined. Maylin quietly disappeared for about 5 minutes, then returned as if nothing happened.

I personally think her ability to "reign it all in"quickly when I show up is a survival technique I would deem "orphanage behavior." I might be wrong.

She can now stay home without me (yes, with other appropriate supervision!) and not make everyone miserable while I'm gone (because wherever I go must be the most fun ever!) Her "I go cahr, Mommy" does make me change my mind about taking her sometimes, although she asked to "Shtay. Home." from this morning's school run because Matt was home sick. Thought that would never happen. She loves the trips to "Shkoo" to deliver or pick up the sibs. She still hates to miss the "shtore."

I occasionally still find her with a thumb in her mouth. It's usually at night. We laugh about it during the day, but she isn't quite ready to give it up yet.

She picks random things about which to be a little compulsive--like brushing her teeth at the left bathroom sink tonight. It's a coin toss as to whether it's a need in her mind, or manipulation because Beth was brushing there. I try to let the sibling keep their space, while encouraging Maylin to be patient in order to get what she wants.

She is attending her age-appropriate Sunday School class as well as Children's Church where she loves being with the kids. Soooo proud of her papers when she shows me them. I can usually get enough of her story to know what they taught that day! The highlight of the week is practicing for the Christmas Musical. 

She is getting more consistent with naming colors. She can copy letters and words, but doesn't recognize any of them yet. We work on right/left, up/down, first/second, etc. as we work and play together.

Food is a non-issue. She can consume anything without complaint although she often tries to tell us she doesn't like something just because. She's very fickle on likes and dislikes...She often looks at me in surprise when she's tasted something and grins, "My like!"

We regularly look at the photos from her orphanage, which I've begun to call "her first home," and she tells me more and more about it. She has no sadness as she talks and she doesn't seem to miss the people there. They did a great job in caring for my daughter until we found each other. She must have had loving attachment to caretakers because her attachment here has been flawless. 

She is as normal as any 6 year old I know.

She is a Flower From My Father that brings me Flowers from Him every day.

Martha might be my Hero

I don't want to plug a book that I haven't read, but the title itself intrigues me:

Can Martha Have a Mary Christmas?

It's by the same author (Joanne Weaver) as

Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World. 

The basis of the book is, presumably, the history of a dinner event that was recorded in Luke 10:38-42. Mary and Martha were hosting Jesus and the pack that traveled with Him. 

Jesus had become a man with a controversial reputation. He'd already lived a radical lifestyle, preached the fulfillment of the traditional religion, raised a child from the dead, cast demons out of people, and fed more people in one sitting than I have in my entire life (which is sayin' somethin')

He had become a pop culture icon, in a way. He had certainly polarized the culture He lived in. 

If you were to tell a crib note version of Luke 10:38-42, without reading it again, most of us would condense it into a couple concise sentences: Jesus went to the home of Mary and Martha. While Martha was in the kitchen getting the meal ready, Mary was sitting at Jesus' feet. Martha complained that her sister wasn't helping in the kitchen. Jesus scolded Martha for being such a worry wart, thereby praising Mary for choosing wisely.

Pretty much it, right?
The obvious application is usually something along the line of
our being with Jesus more. Worry about stuff less.
Be Mary. Squash your inner Martha.

Like two stories (which are not related to the topic of this blog at all)
I read to my kids 

The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig

and another, The True Story of the Three Little Pigs,
don't assume the way you perceive something is always correct.

Let's first reexamine Martha's request.

The NLT says, But Martha was distracted by the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, "Lord, doesn't it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here, while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me."

One translation says Martha was cumbered about much serving. Cumbered means having a troublesome or useless weight or load; burdened or oppressed. 

Martha had a guest she admired, she may have already loved, and she might have already embraced His teaching. She might have settled it in her heart that this Man was her Messiah. We don't know the timing of her transformation into a Jesus Follower, but we do know from the rest of her story that she was at least headed that way. I understand her wanting to open her home for His use.

As she slammed pots and pans and slung hash, so to speak, to make her meal a success, she did it ostensibly alone. She may have had other kitchen help, but she wanted to have her sister's help. 

Maybe it was because she knew Mary would "share her glory" at meal time and she wanted her to also share the sweat.  Maybe she desperately wanted to be at Jesus' feet also, but serving His meal had become her primary objective. Martha's love language may have been acts of service. Since I am trying to focus on what the scripture says, not on what I want to assume, the maybe's don't count.

Her words tell us a little about how she was feeling (...for out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaketh. Matthew 12:34b) "Lord, doesn't it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here..." STOP!

Words that catch my attention:

Lord

unfair

just sits

here

and the rest of her statement: "Tell her to come and help me."

1. She let Jesus know how he should feel about the situation.

2. She told Jesus what he should do about it.

Is that me, or what?!
Alright, Lord. I know that (this situation) must be breaking your heart. I am in quite a stir about it myself. I mean, the nerve of her to say those things about my friend! And she pretends to be godly in saying them. I am available to do Your will. If You bring her to this grocery store right now, I will willingly allow you to speak through me and straighten her out. 


(I do hope you don't think that was a real life example of how I would speak to God...if perchance someone had said something that I know wasn't true...and I was itching to set someone right...and it was last week...and I think I'm okay now that God and I had more time to talk it out...)


Maybe you don't have moments of knowing how life should be going down, and you don't get your panties in a wad over what others are saying or doing.
Well, I do.

In looking at Jesus' reply to Martha, see what He addresses. 

Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful; and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her. (KJV)

Other translations use the words distracted, worried, upset, anxious, disquieted to describe what Jesus saw as the problem.
1. Martha, your body, your brain and your heart are feeling a weight God did not put there.
2. Look at me, not those around you.

He asked Martha to make her decisions about her attitude

based on her heart, based on her relationship with Him.

Think of a few of the women in the Bible that we admire. We know that some were very industrious in mind and body: The woman described in Proverbs 31 was a busy gal. She held a resume I doubt I'll ever have. Ruth worked in the fields as a minimum wage laborer. Lydia was a small business owner--and the few business owners I know stay VERY busy. And God blessed their faith and work.

I, for one, love the tasks involved in serving. I enjoy being hospitable. I like to hear the gang cackling in the other room while I cut the pie, and finish up the dishes. I like the final swoop across the house to throw toys into their bins and swipe the dust from the top of the piano. I like the door swinging open and welcoming new and old friends into our space, and our hearts. I am a Martha, to the core.

I am glad that Jesus didn't reprimanded Martha for being Martha.

He didn't tell her that He and His followers didn't need to eat.

He didn't even belittle the many things that were chasing themselves through her head as she prepared for her guests (and if they stay tonight, Lazarus can sleep in the living room with the disciples while Jesus takes L's room with one or two of Jesus' besties. I can get the additional eggs needed for breakfast from Sarah since her hens are doing so well, and the figs were plentiful this year, so I think that's covered. Good thing we made those extra loaves of bread yesterday! Aw, I could use another hand in here cutting the fruit. I wonder if they'll like the date cakes or the halvah better. I think I might need to....)

 He didn't ask Martha to BE Mary, because Mary WAS better.

 Jesus Himself was "that good part" who Martha is encouraged to seek.

Martha gets a bad rap from us as if busy is bad, and service is selfish.

I don't hear Jesus say that. He simply puts the choice before her: 

Truly serving Jesus starts with just loving Jesus.

I'm glad God documented this bit of history for me. He tells me to
Be Dorothy.
Be who I made you to be, then choose wisely.
Be intentional in where you put your energy. Put it into eternal things.
Put your energy into longing for Me, and into loving people.
Those are better than only being fretful that your Martha Stewart Holiday isn't going to be as perfect as the one in the magazine. Take the time to plan with Jesus first, and the rest will prioritize itself on most days. It's okay that you can't do the parade, the lights, the gift exchange, the cookie recipe swap, the hand-made wreaths and the matchy-matchy outfits for everyone.

I had this post partially written and set aside but I was mulling the idea one morning this week while getting kids ready for school. I was considering how to put it into words; how to examine our idea of what Jesus said, and understand what Jesus meant...

The thought made me giggle out loud--That's it, my book title:

How to Take Your Martha Heart in a Martha World. 

Go be who He made you to be...with a great heart attitude.

P.e.r.f.e.c.t! Just perfect!

I hate to put it into writing. 

It sounds just...so...uh...arrogant.

But hear me out.

I am the perfect parent.

Actually, a more accurate statement is that 

I am the perfect parent for 8 specific children.

(I still shake my head in wonder when I think that I am the Blessed Mama to 8!)

But oddly enough, I don't think I am. Perfect, that is.

I think my inability to do math accurately, 

even when I'm not working on it upside-down from the other side of the table, 

hinders my SuperMom status.

You see, my forgetting that she can't take that particular lunch box to her particular school makes me a failure in the Mom Department.

My short temper when one of the kids makes some minor mistake 
disqualifies me for the Mother-of-the-Year Award...again.

I didn't remember to have them memorize their verse this week. Fail.

We didn't review the multiplication tables while driving to the grocery. Fail.

I didn't bring my camera to this once-in-a-lifetime event. Fail.

I forgot to text him after his exam. Fail.

I asked Daddy to take care of a discipline issue instead of just dealing with it. Fail.

I proactively bought her a favorite candy...but that's not the one she likes. Fail.

The fact that I didn't realize this one has laziness issues, and that one had self-esteem issues, and their sibling has an underlying critical attitude, and...so on...and so on...until it busts me in the chops and now, it's ingrained in their personality, and how am I going to work on that when I should have dealt with it when they were much younger, but I didn't recognize it since I was so busy with...

WAIT! TIME OUT!

I thought I was supposed to be the perfect mother???

It really all goes back to whether or not I believe that 

God, the Creator of All Things in Derschdom and Elsewhere, 

was in charge when He put me in charge of our small herd. 

Did He realize that the Tuesday before Thanksgiving was going to be very difficult, and I wasn't going to be a very good Mommy, back when He chose Beth to join us? Did He know that I wasn't going to be very much help in the Algebra Department when He put an extra dose of Brains in some of our kids? And that I am not excessively tolerant of noise when He slid a ChatterBox in our midst? Did He think it was a great joke to know I would be overwhelmed with what He asked me to do some days, and I would be overwhelmed by what I thought He was asking me to accomplish (even when He wasn't) most other days? 

Each of our kids have traits that "clash" with my being a perfect parent. 

As I have fondly said before, "There wasn't any chlorine in the gene pools any of our kids came from."

But God knew all that when He chose Mark and I to be the stewards of these particular kids.

He knew what cranked my buttons, and snapped my head the wrong way, and He knew where I could excel on my own, and where I'd have to be so.very.dependent on Him in others. 

He set me up to be the perfect parent, because it was His design;
He only does perfect. 

Do I believe that today, 

with all it's great memories, 

and all it's difficult news, 

with all the troubles,

as well as the joys,

the mind-boggling messes,

and the sink-to-my-knees grateful moments

Is in His Hands?

Can I live like I know that?

Can I be assured that as I mature as a parent, as a spouse, as a friend, as (you name it)...that 

He not only planned for this moment in my life, but He also prepared me for it?

What about the stuff you don't feel prepared for? 

Hmmm. There's that word that makes itself seem so very real, when it truly isn't: feel. 

Just because I feel like a good mom today, it doesn't mean I was. 

Just because I might feel like a not-so-good mom tomorrow, won't make it true.

You truly are the perfect parent as you follow God, imitate His parenting, and believe He relegated today's parenting tasks to the exact parent He wanted in your kids' lives.

Realizing simply truths...again...is my one weakness.