When we moved in only three burners worked and nothing on the hood worked. Tonight, I cooked with a stove light and a fan! It was so wonderful! I felt rich, people. Positively rich.
The old one was so ready to go, that even the time and oven temperature display window was failing. My children and I always had to guess what temperature we were up to, as we waited eons for the thing to preheat.
The delivery men were very nice. They hauled our old one away and completely installed and tested the new gas range and hood. And you know, I think they were very happy for me!
The best thing about the whole experience wasn't the new stove, however. It was my kids and what they taught me. They loved the delivery guys and charmed them with their child-like excitement and innocence. The two men learned--without even asking--all my kids' name and ages, their interests, their present and hoped-for pets, how they caught a pill bug and named him Zack, and how spring must be coming because we're seeing bugs and robins. And how we were probably going to use our barbecue grill this summer instead of our gas grill, because we wouldn't be able to afford propane. (They remembered that we couldn't afford it last summer).
I wasn't bothered by anything the kids said, despite them telling the world we were relatively poor. Instead, I was tearfully happy at their sweetness, their contagious joy, their intuitive feeling that these two guys were very nice. One guy may have been a Christian, because he asked if I homeschooled and expressed a desire to do the same, if not for having to work. They couldn't have been nicer guys and we were blessed to have their help and fellowship for an hour--especially since we aren't handy people and prefer not to deal with circuit breakers and gas lines.
It's not that I thought my kids were incapable of being charming, or that I worried about their social skills.
It's that I'm here every day with them, seeing them fail to flush and wash after toilet use, seeing them wipe food on their sleeves, seeing them walk on our off-white carpet with muddy boots, time and again, despite throw rugs. I listen to whining, fighting, complaining. I repeat, repeat, repeat, and then I repeat some more.
It's hard not to worry about why they repeat the same mistakes. I wonder what we're doing wrong. I brainstorm how we can parent better.
My conscientiousness makes me insufferable sometimes. Conscientious people aren't exactly the relaxed type. I'm sure you know someone like me? I admire my kids and know their strengths and celebrate them, but I also drown in frustration sometimes, at how hard it is moving them forward with maturity.
Their sweetness today, their charm, reminded me that God takes over when it matters. Those guys enjoyed being here with my kids, despite my flawed mothering. Despite my struggles to remain calm. Despite my overly-conscientious ways.
I've had lots of reminders lately that without Him, we are nothing. God continually shows me that I can't do a good enough job at my work. At my mothering. At anything. It's not that striving is bad. Indeed, working to bless one's family is good. But my striving can't crowd out Him. He is my focus, my whole point. He is my life. The Marthas of the world--that's me-- need to learn this anew, every day.
Any frustration I feel is sin. It's wanting my own way. It's a refusal of His way, His timetable, His purpose.
God will provide for my kids. They will be raised up for His purposes, not because of my efforts, but in spite of them.
How this releases me! How their liveliness, their conversation, their charm, released me today. I saw God in them, not because they are particularly godly, but because God wanted to shine through them. Because God took over. I witnessed God's power and sovereignty. I witnessed my own insignificance.
After the kids went to sleep tonight, I read this in My Utmost For His Highest (Oswald Chambers, 1935) August 4th entry:
Oh, the bravery of God in trusting us! Do you say, "But He has been unwise to choose me, because there is nothing good in me and I have no value"? That is exactly why He chose you. As long as you think that you are of value to Him He cannot choose you, because you have purposes of your own to serve. But if you will allow Him to take you to the end of your own self-sufficiency, then He can choose you to go with Him "to Jerusalem" (Luke 18:31). And that will mean the fulfillment of purposes which He does not discuss with you.
We tend to say that because a person has natural ability, he will make a good Christian. It is not a matter of our equipment, but a matter of our poverty; not of what we bring with us, but of what God puts into us; not a matter of natural virtues, of strength of character, of knowledge, or of experience--all of that is of no avail in this concern. The only thing of value is being taken into the compelling purpose of God and being made His friends (see 1 Corinthians 1:26-31). God's friendship is with people who know their poverty. He can accomplish nothing with the person who thinks that he is of use to God. As Christians we are not here for our own purpose at all--we are here for the purpose of God, and the two are not the same. We do not know what God's compelling purpose is, but whatever happens, we must maintain our relationship with Him.I can rest so peacefully in that. Can't you? I can give thanks for, and count as gifts, all my troubles. No matter that we've been underemployed for two years. No matter that my son has heart wrenching difficulties.
My troubles impoverish me. They take me to the end of my self-sufficiency.
And then it's just God and me. No distractions.
Beautiful.
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