Month: June 2016

Faithfulness {a post for Shama Women}

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Scripture card: She Reads Truth

I’m honored to be part of a team of bloggers writing on behalf of Shama Women, which operates training centers in South Asia where women learn sewing, cosmetology, literacy, and theology. Their stories are evidence of God at work in a country where there is open hostility toward Christians and the lives of women are marginalized. “Shama” means candle—these women are shining light into a dark place.

Maria is 20 years old. She is one of 10 siblings, with five brothers and four sisters. Years ago, when she was still very much a child in the eyes of the world, her mother passed away, followed by her father just a year later. In her culture, when there is no father or grandfather, the eldest brother in a family becomes the caretaker for any of his unmarried sisters. With both of her parents gone and no family patriarch left, this became Maria’s story.

Though her eldest brother took her in and provided a roof over her head, Maria was still expected to earn her keep, so she began cleaning homes. Her wages were low, there was little promise of ever getting a raise, and she felt uneasy and unsafe. Her brother was the recipient of nearly all of her meager earnings.

As young women in her country do, Maria had been collecting for herself a dowry to be given to her future husband. She didn’t have much to offer, the most valuable and treasured piece a tea set given to her by her mother.

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Photo: Shama Women

Just a tea set. It doesn’t sound like anything of importance. As I sit here and type, the shelves above my desk hold a variety of tea pots and cups and saucers, sets I’ve collected from here and there: white china with colorful flowers from my wedding, a brightly colored set given by my sister as a Christmas gift, several delicately painted, flowered pieces handed down from the women in my husband’s family, a tiny set meant for children’s play. They’re all special to me, but none carry anything close to the value and cultural significance of Maria’s. No, Maria’s tea set was much more than an heirloom. It was all she had to her name.

[… please click to read full post]

For the mothers

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My minivan didn’t come with any techy stuff, because at the time we purchased it, we were simply grateful to be buying a second car. Bare bones was fine with us—no media jacks, no DVD player, no automatic doors. Wheels, a solid engine, and a/c was all we needed, thank you Mr. Salesman.

Unfortunately, that means when it comes to music, our options are the radio or whatever CDs we have that still play without skipping. So yesterday morning, I did like I always do when I get tired of the local stations and fished one of the two CDs I keep in the car (JJ Heller and Ellie Holcomb, my favorites) out from under a pile of board books and shoes and stale pretzels on the floor. I blew the crumbs off and slid it into the player.

It had been—it has been—a long, long week.

I just needed to quiet some of the voices. No more news alerts popping up on my phone today, please Jesus. No more horrifying headlines to scroll through. No more “We interrupt this program for the following breaking news.” No more live conferences. It’s just been too much. Too much.

The CD player whirred (I sighed with relief, it’s working today), and JJ’s clear, soothing voice surrounded me and my girls on our drive. The title track, “I Dream of You,” is a mother singing love and sweet dreams over her child as she drifts off to sleep. I play it for my girls often, and I play it when I hold little ones in the church nursery. It always has a quieting, calming effect—on them and on me:

When you fall asleep
What will you dream
Castles and kings

The story’s been read
And you rest your head
Warm in your bed

My love, may you dream
Of beautiful things
’Til the dawn of the day bright and new

Wherever you go
I want you to know
When I dream
I dream of you

Fly over the sea
Float on the breeze
Careless and free

When your journey ends
Wake up and then
Dream it again

My Love, may you dream
Of beautiful things
’Til the dawn of the day bright and new

Wherever you go
I want you to know
When I dream…

I dream of gentle wind blowing in
Time seems to slow
Away we go 

Moonlight fills up your room
Darling, you are my dream come true

(by JJ Heller and David Heller)

The evidence of that morning’s round of crying had barely vanished from my face—I am a splotchy crier—and there I was, driving through suburbia in my minivan, kids in the backseat, just a routine morning, tears rolling down my face.

Because of the mothers.

I sing songs over my children, I do it all the time. I sing in the car and while I change diapers. I pray for them as they drift off to sleep, that they won’t be afraid and that their dreams will be happy. Those mothers, the ones who lost their children this week—at a concert venue, at a nightclub, during a family vacation—I’m sure they sang songs of love over their babies, too.

I cry for the mothers.

I ache for them. They are living through the unimaginable. Your babies are your babies, no matter their age.

And yet, I know that there is hope and the promise of peace. That those lullabies we sing to comfort our babies aren’t only for their little hearts. They’re for the mothers’ hearts, too.

Listen.

Our Father is singing over us, over all of this fallen world. He knows His children by name, and He weeps with us. He knows we might be afraid to close our eyes at night, that we don’t want to see what our dreams are bound to drag to the surface from the depths of our minds. He knows that the darkness feels scary and lonely and that right now, the daylight doesn’t feel much better.

He is singing a sweet lullaby of peace, the kind of peace that is beyond what we can comprehend. The only kind of peace that can bind up a broken heart.

A song for the mothers.

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What I learned in May

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It’s June 3rd, and the temptation to skip last month’s What I Learned post is big. We’re not even one full week into summer break and I’m running low on energy and inspiration. There are a few weeks’ worth of half-written blog drafts taunting me from their teeny minimized versions at the bottom right of my screen. Writer’s block has been real this month. Powering through, right? Here are four quick thoughts:

• I was introduced to this new month called Maycember, and ahhhhh, I get it. May brought with it the looming end of the school year, which meant extra activities, parties, a summer birthday to celebrate early, sorting out summer schedules and signing up for camps and dance class, rounding up thoughtful items for Teacher Appreciation Week, writing thank-you notes, attending closing ceremonies, and saying farewells for the summer. The jam-packedness of May rivaled the chaos leading up to Christmas break in December… dum da da dum, Maycember. (This blog post from Jen Hatmaker sums it up pretty well.)

• I don’t like cooking. That’s not something I learned this month; I’ve known that for a long time. I can cook. I just don’t find it fun. All that work, it’s gone within five minutes, and then you have to clean? Nah. (Don’t worry, family, I will continue to feed you anyway because I love you.) What I did discover in May is that cooking is a lot less of a chore when you’ve got an ’80s party mix blasting in the background. I’ve started rounding up my girls around 4pm every day for a dance party. We shake out the afternoon crankies to The Bangles and MJ and Cyndi Lauper (“Mommy, is this a grown up singing? It sounds like a little girl!”), and it is good. For some reason, I feel much more willing to feed them after that.

• It’s already too hot to drag my 2-year-old in and out of Target for stuff. She won’t stay in the cart, and there is a serious lack of free cookies and balloons to bribe her with (God bless Publix, though). By the time I’ve finished wrangling/half-carrying her like a football around the store while pushing the cart with one hand and listening to her scream just for kicks (followed by a grin and a “That’s loud, mommy!”), I’m sweaty and ready for the day to be over. And that’s before tackling the checkout situation, getting the cart back to its corral, and safely loading kids into the minivan (constant vigilance!). It’s only 10am and I am done. Forget that. I will be ordering diapers and other necessities online this summer, thankyouverymuch. This is why God gave moms the internet.

• This article: Nicole Cliffe: How God Messed Up My Happy Atheist Life. It’s one of those pieces I had to read, think about, and read again, because Wow. I hope you’ll check it out. Let the Holy Spirit use her story to give you fresh eyes and a better understanding of people and the incredible ways God draws us to Himself.

Until next month…

Check out what others learned in May here, and join in! 

Want to check out past editions of What I Learned? You can find them here.