Cinderella Things

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I’ve been wanting to write something ever since Sunday. Alas, the busyness of life got in the way. I even dreamt about this post night before last. More of a nightmare, really, because I didn’t actually say what I should. I left out the most important piece, which is something about my kids.

That’s what this past Sunday was all about, anyway.

My children…

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Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening. 1 Samuel 3:9

God speaks to me in various ways, but one of the most resounding is through the mouth of my children. I swear it’s like His voice passes through precious four-year old lips. It happened Sunday when Annabelle excitedly came to me around mid-morning, her little hands clutching the above decals.

“Look at these Cinderella things,” she commanded. And so I did.

And that’s when I heard not my little girl, but God. Because earlier that morning, I’d just voiced it. I said I felt like Cinderella. And after the entire household went out, leaving me behind with my two children, that’s just what I did. I looked at what I considered to be my “Cinderella” things…

And bitterness welled up within my heart.

I rinsed a milk jug and washed some dishes. I made my bed and began packing my suitcase (I was out of town visiting my in-laws). All the while, I pictured Cinderella with her pile of dishes and dirty floors…

It was the shoe that really did it, though. My shoe peeking up from the clothes was the ultimate Cinderella thing in my opinion.

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Yes, the real Cinderella may have had glass slippers. But me? Just a pair of shoes that have been sitting in my closet for months and months. I’ve never worn them. No need, really. At home, I’m incredibly casual. I work from home, tend children from home, and rarely go out other than church, which is laid back. Come as you are, which means flip-flops for me…

And Annabelle had been wanting me to wear these shoes. She’s pulled them out on numerous occasions, tried them on and even had me slip them on so she could see. And I’d planned to wear them to church that Sunday. My mom-in-law teaches a women’s Sunday school class and I was really looking forward to going. I craved women’s fellowship. A time to soak in and soak up…

I can’t stress how much I really, really wanted to go.

Alas, when we woke that morning, Levi didn’t feel well. He’d been struggling for days at that point and his ear hurt through the night. When we talked about going to church, he was reluctant. Nose congested and simply feeling run down, we decided to stay back.

And though I did all things necessary like feeding my kids and tidying up, my insides festered. All because I wanted to go but couldn’t. I felt as Cinderella did, having tasks to do – at the house – before going out. Her “things” being dishes and floors and ashes, unable to go to the ball unless she completed all her duties…

But me? It wasn’t the dishes or the packing or the milk jug that kept me from going. In truth, it was because my child was sick. And that’s when I heard what God really wanted me to hear.

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“Look at these Cinderella things!”

Acts 16:14 speaks of a certain woman whose heart the Lord opened, that she attendeth unto the things that were spoken. I like that word, “attendeth.” It means to bring near, to turn mind to, attend to, be attentive, give attention to, take heed, devote thought or effort. It means attend to or be attentive to a person or a thing, of caring for, providing for.

And Sunday morning, God opened my heart to understand what He meant in directing me to look at these Cinderella things. See, I’d been feeling sorry for myself. Bitter. All because I wanted to go. Basically, I didn’t get my way.

But ultimately, Cinderella things were not the dishes and the tidying. It was not a pair of shoes. In actuality, Cinderella things were, and are, my children. Levi was the reason I had to stay home. He was the reason why I could not go and do what I wanted.

And God’s message to me?

My kids… Levi and Annabelle. It’s all about them. It always has been. Look and see your children, He urges. Tend to them. Pay attention to them. And really, that’s all God wanted me to take care of this past Sunday morning.

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I confess, there’s a huge misconception I’ve battled with most of my adult existence. Well, more like after I had my babies. For some reason, I’ve always felt like the big things take place outside my home. I’ve always believed important things are out there, not in here.

It was June when I attended a retirement ceremony and I was so inspired because it caused me to want to be a part of something bigger than myself once more. It gave me the nudge to come off the sidelines, which is where I’ve spent most of my time these past two years.

However, on the cusp of my “going back in,” God gave me a gentle reminder. That yes, important, big things happen out there. But remember, even bigger things take place at home. The most significant thing I can ever do is raise my children properly… to nurture them and lavish them with love. To teach them what I know.

God wants me to comprehend in doing so, I accomplish my part in life. Because in tending to my children, I prepare them for their entrance into the world. And this is so much bigger than me…

In truth, it’s the biggest thing I can ever do. And it happens on the home-front. Unseen to the world. Even when I can’t “go,” big things happen at home when I tend to my little ones. My Cinderella things.

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“let me not see the boy…” Genesis 21:16

There’s a passage in Genesis that moved me in a dramatic way years back. The story of Hagar. She wandered the wilderness with her son and when the water ran out, she felt desperate. Because not only was she was going to die, but also her son. She said, “let me not see him.”

Wow, did that penetrate. Still does. When it first resonated years gone by, I was down. Depressed and dry. And truth? Though not desperate or in despair last Sunday, I was dry. Summer tends to do that to me. Time with the Lord is not as much as I’d like and prayer time diminishes. Kids are home and life is busier. Fuller. Thus, I’m emptier…

Yes, Sunday, I was dry before the sun even arose. And I longed to go to church. I wanted refreshment. I wanted a word. But God showed me, He can give me a word wherever I am. No doubt, He speaks loudly in a myriad ways. Most recent, through my little girl.

“Look at these Cinderella things,” she said.

But it was more than her voice, it was God’s. And so I think of Hagar, who didn’t want to look when her son was perishing. She didn’t want to see. That word means to look at, inspect, consider, look after, see after, give attention to.

And that’s the message God brought home on Sunday (and in the days following). He says see your boy and see your daughter. And though my kids are not dying as Hagar’s was, they most assuredly need my help. They need my care and attention and love. And that’s more important than anything I could ever do “out there.”

“Get up! Help the boy up and hold him by the hand…” Genesis 21:18

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“Cinderella things,” Annabelle dubbed them. She placed them on my window when we got back home. They’re still there and they serve as a reminder. And in seeing them, I’m reminded that Cinderella things can be the reason women have to stay back. They may be why one can’t just go and do.

For me, my “things” consist of an at-home job and the care of my house with all that entails. But mostly, it’s about my children. Yes, because I have children I can’t always “go” and I can’t always “do” what I want…

I can’t always go somewhere and I can’t always go to sleep. I can’t always go to work or go my way. I can’t always participate in all the big stuff that happens on the outside.

But you know, what I can do – at home – is the most important thing I can do this day. And it’s so much bigger than what I can even imagine. Because my kids, well, they go beyond me. And their future efforts will reach far beyond my days. Now, how BIG is that?!?

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In closing, I want to say 95% of the time, I have proper perspective. I realize most days, I can go and do what I want. Every so often, though, I stumble. My eyesight clouds and I forget how good I have it. That’s what happened Sunday.

My husband reminded me last night, though, I can go and do when I really need to. Like the picture above when I needed to take Levi for care. In many countries, there are women who cannot do this as medical care may be hours away…

And then there are other women who simply cannot just up and go because their kids need constant care and attention. Every, single day. God help me not to forget them. That when He says, “Look,” I see not only my own children but theirs, too.

And on the flip side, there are women who have to go on the outside to work. This is how they care for their children. They have no other option but to go and do so they can do for their own. May I not forget them.

God help me to really see…

Not just me and mine, but them and theirs. And when I do open my eyes, may I also open my mouth in prayer. For mine and theirs. Yes, this is one of the biggest things I can do today and I don’t even have to go out to do it. I can stay right here in my home and do what God calls me to.

Tending to my oh, so precious Cinderella things…

The Strongest Woman I’ve Known (a tribute to Cissy)

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This past week didn’t go as planned. We were supposed to visit Cissy today. Jason’s step-mom. We had Christmas presents for her. There was a fluffy robe, flannel pj’s, and a calendar chock full of our kids’ photos as well as a few of her…

At least that’s what we planned to do. Instead, we received a call Tuesday afternoon. Jason’s sister said Cissy was not expected to last the day. So we threw our things in a bag and left town as fast as we could.

We hoped we’d get there in time. We wanted to say good-bye. That didn’t happen, though, for she left this earth much too soon.

And so our week was not what we thought it would be. And instead of dropping off gifts, we ended up bringing home more than we took. Items tucked into a box…

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This is what we have left of her now. Memories of our time with Cissy. And it’s what I’ve pilfered through this evening. As the photos sifted through my finger tips, scene after scene played out in my mind…

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I thought about Cissy most of our drive home today, too. Between bathroom stops and calming my toddler, I did. And along with tears, there were smiles. When I thought of all those cozy things that brought her image to mind, the ends of my mouth curved upward…

Tissues and magazines and newspapers and reading glasses. Smile. And pajamas and slippers and lotion. There’s warmth. This is how I remember her best. Cissy sitting in her comfy chair with a kitty nearby.

And I grin when I think of our first meeting. See, she wasn’t home when Jason introduced me to his dad and I was downright terrified. That’s because Dwight wasn’t a man of many words. At least not at first, he wasn’t. And at our introduction, I didn’t have any of my own.

No, flanked by two non-speaking men, I sat trembling in my brown corduroy jumper staring blankly at the TV screen. I searched the far recesses of my brain for something interesting to say but found nothing to offer. I don’t think I could have been more uncomfortable.

But then, Cissy.

Thank the Lord she came home. Totally outgoing and filled to the brim with questions, she had an abundance of words. A friend to everyone, I don’t think she knew a stranger. And God bless her, she even sat sideways on our way to dinner so there wouldn’t be a pause in the conversation.

Yep, Cissy kept the banter going and she made everything alright from that moment on. And in light of Cissy, Dwight wasn’t so scary to me anymore. And over time, my love for him pushed that unfounded fear right out the door anyway.

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Yeah, those are all good memories. So much to smile about. But there are other things, too. Sadness and tragedy. Utter heartbreak. For Cissy had it rough. Unbearable, really.

And when I found the following note the day after Cissy’s passing, written in her own hand, I decided I’d print and frame her words to keep as a reminder.

For if any woman would know about difficulty, she would.

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Cissy said we’re to learn important lessons from the things that are most difficult. And one would assume she was referring to her battle with cancer. A three year grueling ordeal.

But in truth, I believe her battle began long before that. Because I think life’s hardest blow hit when her beloved died suddenly. Without warning. A massive heart attack claimed the man she’d never get over. My husband’s father, Dwight, passed quickly in 2008.

One week beyond Jason’s birthday…

And none of us got the chance to say good-bye.

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The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps. Proverbs 16:9

I have to tell the truth. On Tuesday, I had plans. I was in the middle of a project and there was one delay after another. Namely, my daughter wouldn’t take her morning nap which pushed everything back.

I just wanted to do the thing I’d been trying to do all morning. And when I encountered resistance, I felt anger. My attitude went south way too easily.

And therein lies the lesson of Cissy. And tackling difficulty. It has to do with attitude. Her attitude. Which was a good one.

Staying positive. And hopeful.

That’s the example she left us.

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Cissy was a strong woman. Independent and driven and full of purpose. She was that way long before she met Dwight. But alas, her Prince Charming swept her off her feet and love came knocking.

And I just love the story she told. About how Dwight had a business trip that took him away for a few days. But while they were apart, she sensed a change in him. She just knew he was going to end their relationship. A good-bye before she was ready…

And so upon his return when he asked her to sit with him on the porch so they could talk, she resisted.

No, I’m tired. I want to go to bed.

She just didn’t want to hear him say it was over. But Dwight was persistent so they sat, Cissy thinking the end had come. That’s when a song started playing…

“Sha la la la la la, live for today.”

That was Dwight’s queue. “Hear that song, Cissy? Will you marry me?” And what she thought was going to be an ending turned out to be a beginning.

And along with Dwight, she gained two step-children and eventually four grandchildren.

However, happily ever after didn’t happen. Or at least it didn’t stay that way.

DSCN4132This picture was taken a month before Dwight died. And this was a month before Cissy’s heart broke right in two. And I swear, she had every reason to be bitter.

Because her husband was gone.

But see, Cissy was a strong woman before she met Dwight. Independent and driven and full of purpose. And though life knocked her down and she never got over him, she did get back up.

Cissy found the strength to stand on her feet again. And it was this strength that carried her through her three year battle with cancer. The disease kicked her down more than once, but she stood again and again and again.

She battled unlike any woman I’d ever seen. She fought harder than anyone could have. I swear, Cissy was the strongest woman I’ve ever known.

When I told her so several months back, she said that’s what Dwight used to say, too.

The strongest woman I know.

That’s what Dwight would say…

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You know, God has a way of tying things up. Of drawing loose ends together. He did so for me this past week when I found this card on Cissy’s desk. It’s what I sent for her birthday earlier this year.

And I read the words I wrote to Cissy. I told her how I’d been focusing on the struggles of life. I said, “And what I realize is if anybody knows what it’s like to struggle, you do. You have to do battle every day.” 

Funny thing is, that’s where I found myself on Tuesday. Just before I heard the news about Cissy, I was thinking about struggle and battle. Even writing about it. Because I felt some resistance in what I was trying to accomplish.

But you know what? My attitude got really bad. I felt angry and bitter over something so teeny-tiny. If there was a skirmish, I lost for sure and my mood was the source of my downfall.

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And then, there’s Cissy. A woman who lost her husband before he was 57 years old. A woman who was diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma in 2012 at Thanksgiving when she was only 56. She went through one hardship after another with her illness.

And yet, her attitude remained positive.

Always.

She did not complain.

Never.

She hid her pain.

So well.

And she remained hopeful.

Always.

Her faith never, ever faltered. Ever. And though cancer eventually took her life, it never got the best of her. And though cancer claimed her body, Cissy never lost the battle. She fought the good fight…

She fought and fought till the very end.

The bitter end.

The strongest woman I’ve ever known never once gave up.

She never did.

Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses. 1 Timothy 6:12

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I wish I could be more like Cissy.

Unfortunately, I all too easily become bitter when I let myself. Over small things. Like not saying good-bye. I just felt so mad that we didn’t get that chance.

But you know, Cissy didn’t either. She didn’t get the opportunity to tell her beloved Dwight good-bye. Some time after his passing, though, the oddest thing began to happen. There were feathers.

Cissy would find feathers in the most obscure places. All over her home. And there was no reason on earth they should have been where they were. No where they could have come from.

Cissy believed they were from Dwight.

And that’s one of the things that makes me smile today. Because on Wednesday, I chose a globe with a bird in it for myself. I’d made it for Cissy’s mother a few years back and didn’t think anybody else would want it. I dusted the edges and sat it on Cissy’s counter but left it behind.

And the oddest thing happened.

When Jason’s sister brought it to me two days later, she asked if a feather had always been in it. But there hadn’t been. I would have seen it when I cleaned it up. And yet, on Friday, a feather was inside.

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Know what I think?

It’s from Cissy.

I think this woman who was tough as steel left an imprint as soft as a feather upon this earth. Thus, I’ll think of Cissy whenever I see it. And I’ll smile. Just like I do with tissues and magazines and newspapers and reading glasses and pajamas and slippers and lotion.

And I’ll become resolute as I recall Cissy’s words. That we are meant to learn important lessons from the things that are most difficult.

And this coming year, I’ll try to follow her footsteps.

Striving to be strong just like her,

battling courageously,

fighting the good fight.

That’s what I’ll do.

If I make a New Year’s Resolution at all, it’ll be to be like her.

The strongest woman I’ve known.

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Me and Cissy, October 2012

“So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” Matthew 6:34

 

 

 

Like a Lamb

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My son, do not take the Lord’s discipline lightly, or faint when you are reproved by Him; for the Lord disciplines the one He loves, and punishes every son whom He receives. No discipline seems enjoyable at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it yields the fruit of peace and righteousness to those who have been trained by it. Hebrews 12:5-6,11

I had a dream the other night. It was as if I could hear God say, “Come out!” And I’ve been mulling over that command… come out. What could He mean? Of course writing is the first thing that comes to mind because I decided to put it aside a mere twenty-two days ago. Oh, I had good reasons. The blog became too big for me. All consuming. Everything else was taking a back-seat. Namely, my household responsibilities. And more importantly, the issue of disciplining my child. Or shall I say lack of discipline. My firstborn. That’s when I felt a bit of discipline myself at the hand of my Heavenly Father. My journal proof of the errant child I was by my jotting down, “I feel grounded.” And perhaps that’s just what He did. Grounded me. God put me in time-out. A little sit down till I could regain perspective. And so, maybe, just maybe… my time is at hand. Because I heard Him clearly the other night. My Father said, “Come out!”

Be Sober! Be on the alert! Your adversary the Devil is prowling around like a roaring lion, looking for anyone he can devour. 1 Peter 5:8

Nature and timing provide the perfect backdrop to this season of my life. See, the last thing I wrote aligned with Daylight Saving Time. Afterward, I thought I was poised to spring forward along with my clock. And yet, here I sit. Stalled. Stilled. And delayed. Instead of moving forward, I find myself in a period of discipline and change. But today I know why. It has to do with the month all things. Because I’ve heard it said that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. And the imagery of March illuminates this wayward daughter’s actions.

Yes, March and all its elements come in like a roaring lion, seeking what it can devour. March is loud in its entrance of blustery winds and frigid temperatures. Ice and pelting sleet. Storms. March’s extreme weather seems to have conquered all leaving behind only bleak land. However, quiet miracles take place underneath. For overnight, yellow jonquils defy the odds jutting through frozen earth anyway. And by the time the end of the month rolls around, once bare branches are adorned with lime green and brilliant red. And oh, the blessed sound of peeping peepers and chirping birds. Before we know it, Winter has transitioned to Spring. Cold turns to warm and barren turns to flowering. Blustery winds replaced by mild and balmy. What once seemed dead comes alive with color and sound.

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And so today, I gain perspective. I see clearly for March is a picture of me. Because at the onset of this writing venture, I came in like a lion. Loud. Forceful. Unyielding and rigid. Cold and hard. And prideful. A lion’s pride… I am woman, hear me roar! Thus, my time-out. My grounding. My stillness. See, just as Spring undergoes the miracle of transformation, God expects no less of me. His child. But the change has to happen on the inside first. Before beauty and color is seen on the outside, a quiet miracle must take place deep down.

You should clothe yourselves instead with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God. 1 Peter 3:4

When I came home four and a half years ago, I was a big mouth. I had an opinion about everything and was eager to share it. Because in my mind, I was right. I even developed a terrible habit of talking right over people. See, for the first time I had something to say. I thought I had something to offer. Such a change from the young girl who left at nineteen. The one who had nothing to say.

As time progressed, I became loud. Dare I say shouting? Yes, shouting. At home. When I completely lost my cool, I’d raise my voice. Time constraint is what brought on the pressure. And it was my little boy who endured the brunt of my loudness. You know what jolted me awake? Isaiah 42:2-3. It says Christ did not cry out or shout or make His voice heard in the streets. He did not break a bruised reed or put out a smoldering wick. It was this passage that helped me comprehend how utterly anti-Christ I’ve been in this manner. The total opposite of Him, who was quiet and gentle.

He was oppressed and afflicted, and yet He did not open His mouth. Like a lamb led to the slaughter and like a sheep silent before her shearers, He did not open His mouth. Isaiah 53:7

And so, I was put in time-out. He wanted me to be still so I could see clearly. And so that inner things could happen. And in the quiet, I find my life begins to mirror the Spring that occurs outside my windows. My inside transforms alongside the outdoors. I came in like a lion. But loudness and forcefulness are transitioning to quietness. Pride is replaced by humility. And an unyielding spirit morphs to a malleable one… all this happening as Winter submits to Spring. As I submit to Him.

And God is impeccable in His timing. For today is the last day of March. Easter will be here in just a few days. And I think for the first time in my whole life, Easter will really rise in my heart this time. Because I can’t help but have this feeling I’m on the cusp of something big. Something new. For Easter will usher in a new age for me. It will be the era of the Lamb.

Behold, the lamb of God… John 1:29

Funny thing about my recent time-out. I thought it commenced on March 9 when I put this blog aside. But today, I realize it goes back further. In fact, to the very beginnings of this writing venture. It has to do with my actions just before. And something I said. I even know the date… February 10, 2013. That’s when I dared utter something so haughtily. So arrogantly. So forcefully. And loud. “I can’t just sit here for two years…” No, in my mind I had too much self-import. But today, just over two years later, I know the truth about God. And me. Only in hindsight is it crystal clear. It’s almost like He said, “Yes you will, little girl. If I say you’ll sit in time-out for two years, that’s exactly what you’ll do.” And it appears I did.

But see, I have hope. For today is March 31. The month is pretty much over. Oh, it came in like a lion. Just like me. But it proves to be going out like a lamb. And me? Well, I’m pretty sure I heard my Father say, “Come out!” I think my chastening is over. At least for now. The real test, though, will be how I exit my time-out. Will I leave the same way I entered, like a lion? Or will I come out changed? Like a lamb…

Then one of the elders said to me, “Stop crying. Look! The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David, has been victorious so that He may open the scroll or even to look at it.” Then I saw one like a slaughtered lamb… Revelation 5:5-6