When There Are Broken Things

Danny had run into the house yesterday yelling that the water fountain had fallen over when the storm blew in, but I didn't see it until this morning.

The lovely little rustic water fountain that Jonathan had bought when I was pining a bit

this summer.

The rim was in so many pieces, I don't figure it can be fixed.

 "You don't need to buy things to make your wife happy," I blurted out impulsively this morning before catching myself, thinking about how much he had spent on it, even though it was on sale. "They just get broken anyway. You're just supposed to get happiness from heavenly things."

Yeah, it sounded a lot more sour than spiritual.
And yeah, it was a really stupid thing to say. 

Anyone could figure that out--even me. 

"It's the story of my life," I bemoaned to my husband along with my goodbye kiss to him.

Great goodbye. I know.

You don't fix stupid with stupid, the venerable Max Lucado says in his recently released book, You'll Get Through This. But we all try to fix stupid with stupid. 

Which is stupid.

So then my silly stupidity almost makes me smile (which smile I have to hide till my husband leaves, so that he will be sure to feel sorry for me all day). And I go back to my duties, thinking about broken things.

 And I remember the little article I read in an Open Doors paper the children brought home from Sunday School class--about how pottery can become more beautiful after it has been broken--when they use gold or silver acrylic to repair it, and actually turn the golden or silver cracks into a piece of art. It was talking about how broken lives can become more beautiful in the hands of God.

Because you don't get French fries, without first cutting up the potatoes.

 Or pickles without first slicing the cucumbers (while little brother turns the whole ones into a train all over the table).

 Even onions, for as popular as they are, must be skinned, sliced or diced before they become useful.

(Sammy learned that when he called up from where they were elk hunting a year or two ago:

"How do I cut up this onion? Oh? You have to peel it first?")

 And the peppers for our favorite bread-and-butter pickles have to be chopped--

mercilessly chopped.

 And the wishing well has to be demolished before you can learn contentment.

 And sometimes your heart has to break a million times before you realize you really need to plant flowers.

And when the good news comes at noon from a tired but happy father
 who happens to be your third younger brother Gabriel,
that you have another nephew, named Benjamin Edward Morley,
you remember that
not even a single baby alive, whether prince or pauper, can be born--
without the waters breaking. 
 So when your little daughter comes running to you with another bit of brokenness--

"My button came off!"

you take a deep breath and refrain from saying, "This is the story of my life,"

and instead you tell her cheerfully, "Let's go sew it back on--together!"

 Because not one of us doesn't have brokenness in our lives--just some egos are too proud to admit it.

And when Jason Sturtevant shares with some of us friends Sunday afternoon about them going to Uganda where thousands of lives have been broken by the epidemic of Aids, we don't really have a lot to complain about. We could be among the nine hundred orphans in just one of the orphanages run by a few folk from Germany. Or we could be the grandparents who are trying to raise some of the little ones--in mud huts with just about nothing but bananas.

 And I take a picture of the two girls who used to be little together in Ukraine when they were just babies and toddlers. 

Jessica, now about 17, knows a little about brokenness--surviving the accident 16 years ago, having her finger cut off a few years ago, learning later that her week-long headaches were from a congenital abnormality which required a very frightening surgery close to her brain, and then other issues. She hasn't let it stop her from loving others. If anything, the brokenness in her life has given her compassion for others.

She wants to be a nurse in the medical field on a mission field, and plans to work at a clinic in Uganda.

 And Joanna, the mom who probably suffered more than her daughter with her daughter's issues, knows about brokenness, too. Nearly dying in the horrible car wreck when they were on deputation before coming to Ukraine, she spent many weeks recovering, with symptoms later on from that wreck that were ongoing. She knows about broken plans and broken dreams and having to switch a lot of gears. She has ministered in the area of Special Ed in public school for years.

And then God asked her to step out of children's ministry for a while--so He could teach her that her identity was not in what she does, but in Christ alone.

And she and I were talking afterward--me telling her about my favorite blog author, Ann Voskamp, and how her blog and book, One Thousand Gifts,

has impacted my life. Joanna remembers me talking to her in Ukraine--in tears, because I had to talk to somebody.

Yeah, there have been too many broken things to name in that other life represented up there. 

But somehow, as we hugged each other for the photo Jonathan took, there was just a sweet sense of joy--joy through and because of brokenness.

"It's about joy!" I murmur, still a bit reticent about acting too happy, and hesitant about all these pictures I take for my blog.

Because you don't get anything inspirational without asking, and receiving,

and being broken and finding wholeness in Christ

You can't help mend others' broken lives very well without first being broken yourself--and finding the remedy--the gold and silver acrylic that turns the broken pottery into a piece of art.

When You Have Been Gossiped About

Ever wonder what to do when you discover that some sort of "buzz" is going on about--unfortunately--you?

 Things said, as well as things skillfully left unsaid, which, if the facts were known, would have left a completely different picture.
You have to admit it,

not everything in life is romantic.

 Sometimes it's rather crazy.

 Sometimes eggs do get spilled on the floor.

And you are left to clean up the mess.

 Sometimes tears flow for more reasons than onions.

 And faces pucker from things besides lemons.

People spreading the rumors won't speak up to your face, just behind your back.

     People who hear about it decide the heat needs to be turned up under you. 

 You're left in the mud hole.

 Your reputation is left stripped and bare. You aren't even a Christian anymore. 

You are Hypocrite personified.

 You have no idea exactly what is being said about you; 

people just drop hints and let you know bits and pieces here and there, and you desperately long to just go crawl in a hole somewhere.

 Because there are those who will always be first to spot the flaw in your character or in your family.

 And yeah, one of your kids will always be pulling some stunt or rubbing his eye the wrong way or looking the wrong direction or saying the wrong thing--according to the other person's opinion.

And you'll be in this logjam of trying to figure out what to do.

You'll be just trying to pick your way through the mess, to try to get to the other side.

One day a few months ago, I spied a book on my way out of Mardels Christian bookstore

where I had gone to buy a school book on sale for my high schooler.

It caught my eye and attention.

I glanced through it as I stood in line at the cash register, saw that it talked about how to deal with being gossiped about, and knew I needed to get it.

I was terribly exhausted and weak that afternoon, and I crashed when I got home,

and I just devoured that book.

Now this afternoon, Jonathan has the boys with him helping or mowing, Crystal is at work, the girls are practicing music, and Hannah is resting.

And I've been wanting to share some of what we've been reading in this book at family worship.

Resisting Gossip: Winning the War of the Wagging Tongue. 

In the first section, titled, "Recognizing Gossip,"  it talks about five types of gossipers:

1) the "spy" who probes, and otherwise loves to get the dirt on others in order to use that information for his personal advantage, looking for power over others.

2) the "Grumbler" who is always murmuring about another person behind their back rather than openly complaining. Someone who is always "venting" about someone.

3) the Backstabber, who desires the target of his gossip to experience pain

4) the Chameleon, who goes along with gossip to fit in. He is afraid of being excluded if he would speak up about the gossip.

5) the Busybody, who is idle, not engaged in purposeful business and wants to be entertained.

The Spy needs to desire the power of Christ, which emancipates both himself and others.

The Grumbler needs to choose contentment and thanksgiving rather than grumbling and jealousy.

The Backstabber needs to pursue loving confrontation when someone has hurt them, or take offenses to the proper authorities, but not to take revenge.

The Chameleon needs to stop fearing men, and remember that God cares about him or her.
The Busybody needs to get busy!

 Rather than looking for entertainment and topics to gossip about, he or she should be intentional about productive activities that will either keep them quiet or give them better things to talk about!

The 4th chapter of the book is about "Believing the Best."

It talks about how gossip begins when we rush to judgment by 

1) Listening to only one side

2) Not considering the source (including hearsay, secondhand information, and speculation)

3) Assuming motives

The antidotes to rushed, prideful and sinful judgment is to consider how we want ourselves to be judged, to humble ourselves, and to remember our place.

 Chapter 5 shares ideas about what to replace gossip with. 

We are to put off "stinky words," and put on what is helpful and edifying. When confronted with gossip or the possibility of gossiping, 

1) Say nothing at all

2) Commend the commendable. "Often we can do even better than silence." We can say something good. Commend rather than complain. In this way, we build others up instead of tearing them down.

3) Talk to people, not about them.

"When there is a problem between us and another person, the overwhelming temptation for us is to run to just about anybody other than the one with whom we have the conflict. The way forward in conflict, however, is not to talk about the other person but to talk to the person in love. Jesus says, 'First go and be reconciled to your brother." 

4)Offer words of mercy. 

The book gives an example of a man to whom the author turns to when he has a problem, because the man is nourishing  and uses merciful words. He is not afraid to confront someone in love if they are offensive, but he goes beyond the call of duty and encourages the people he is confronting.

Use your creativity to come up with options to gossip such as

*telling a good story

*teaching something useful

*telling a funny joke

*sharing a joy

*sharing loving concern with someone you can help

Chapter 6 "Instead of Gossip: Listening"

1) Pray and weigh what you hear.

2) Avoid the gossiper or channels of gossip such as gossipy Facebook entries, blogs, magazines, etc.

If you cannot avoid a gossiper, such as in cases where the gossiper is a close relative, avoid the topic. We need to redirect conversations to avoid gossip. It's about shepherding conversation.

3)Cover the offense. This does not mean to overlook something wrong, but to "draw a veil over it so that those who do not need to see it never do."

This may include defending the character of someone if you know the gossip is false.

Other people's reputations are in our hand.

4) Go to the person talked about, together if necessary. "If someone starts complaining to you about someone else, it is good to ask the complainer if he or she has talked about the problem directly with the subject of his or her complaint. 'I am willing to go with you to help and witness, but I don't think I should listen to any more until we've gone together to her.' This can get messy, and it's not always fun. In a world that is still covered with darkness, light and darkness will tussle."

Part 3 of the book is about "Responding to Gossip."

That is the part I devoured that day.

"You will be gossiped about. If it has not happened yet, get ready." Respond first in faith.

1)Take it to the Lord. 2) Ask God for justice. 3) Believe that God will answer.

Respond in Love.

1) Pray. 2)  Overlook.  

That part really spoke to me,and I wish I could have read it before we made mistakes in trying a different strategy. But perhaps you learn best by making mistakes that cost you something--and then you will not quickly forget.

"Ninety percent of the time, the right thing to do when we are the target of gossip is to simply overlook the offense...A great deal of gossip is just people sharing their bad opinions of us.

[Isn't that a comfort?]

 

3) Confront. 

Love may call us to confront, especially when it is between brothers and sisters in Christ.

We are not supposed to go behind a person's back and gossip about his sin against us to someone else! Love does not just sweep things under the rug, but goes to the person who is acting as an enemy and shows that person his or her fault so that relationship can be restored.

4) Repay evil with good.

Say good things about the person who has gossiped about you. Want what is best for them, even at your own personal cost.

When Apples are Falling--Climb the Tree!

Sometimes you just have to get out of the house

 in order to enjoy your insanity a little more.

You've got teenagers, and you've got younger children, and you've got a little girl in a cast

and you've got brain fog and you've got a recipe for insanity.

So--

you add apples to the whole mess because a neighbor somewhere in town has apple trees

and the apples are just downright falling all over the gutter and grill and ground.  

And you muster up your courage

and you just ask--and behold, "Ask about the apples, and they shall be given.

Seek for a fun project for your energetic children, and ye shall find.

Knock--and as you pick and shake the branches, apples will come a knockin' down all over the place--

including right square on your head if you're in the way!

It's amazing how the recipe turns out just right.

You get to include another family with a little boy who grins from ear to ear while sitting on a ladder

picking apples and handing them down to you.

And neighbor children come running and you get to talk to people you never talked to before.

And you capture a few photos of the beautiful flowers growing around the humble little home of the little old couple from Spain who are so happy to have someone picking and using their extra apples. 

 Especially when you hand them a fresh apple pie you and your daughter just made that morning. You get to talk about their flowers and listen to them talk about their peach trees and all sorts of things about themselves.

Hollyhocks have such a cheerful, homey sounding name.

 

And then the neighbor of this neighbor hollers over that there are more apples on his side of the tree, and your middle boy clambers up the second tree and tosses down more apples,

and that neighbor is eager to talk, too.

He talks all about someone he knows in Denver who has an apple tree and how the man discarded many bushels of apples, until someone who tends the elephants at the zoo

came by and asked for apples for the elephants!  

(Here's hoping he wasn't hinting we were a bunch of elephants, though I wouldn't blame him! :) :)

  

"You can climb the roof," our new friend said. So the boys carefully climbed up on the low roof and picked some more of those wonderful apples. There was a long-handled apple picker that came in very handy. Timmy became quite adept at using it.

 

 You can choose whether you climb the walls,

or climb roofs and apple trees.

It's up to you.

And so maybe you can't climb the trees like your middle son,

and maybe you can't carry all the heavy bags like the young ones,

 maybe all you can do is haul ladders and hand empty bags up and grab full ones down and tie them up and gather up the best apples on the ground away from the yellow jackets, and drive the van and make the plans and coordinate who goes where and who does what...

And maybe while another mom takes her boy and your boys to go pick more another place, 

all you can do is collapse for a little while

while that mom's wee little girls meander through their temporary home,

and your daughters help them with crafts and put the enchiladas in the oven

and start the vegetables sauteeing for a picnic supper.

But it was just one more chance to watch God answer the prayer of a mother who is choosing 

day after day after day 

to walk by faith, to live in hope, to laugh at herself more, to judge others less,

to ask and receive, to seek and find, to knock until the door opens,

and to enjoy the bliss of life's fruit hanging waiting for the picking.

You get to choose.

Drudgery and doldrums,

or freshness and fruit and friendliness and freedom.

When You Find Yourself in the Wishing Well

Don't ask me how Molly the goat got herself into the wishing well.

 Most wishing wells are about as tumble-down, dilapidated and falling-apart as this one of ours.

And they are not a very comfortable place to be. 

You park there with a grouchy face and a growly voice, and you let everyone around you know that you wish, wish, wish you were

somebody else

somewhere else

OR

that they were somebody else

somewhere else.

Now, it's perfectly true that sometimes you do get yourself tied up in the most awkward of places,

and you have to admit that sometimes you are--

to tell the truth--

in a bit of a mess.

 Even the Psalmist wrote, [and can you say that the holy Psalmist, inspired of God, was

whining

when he said] "O, that I had wings of a dove!

  For then would I wander far off... 

and remain in the wilderness..." where the wind blows, and the water flows,

 and flowers grow wild and lush...

 where tomato plants actually bear tomatoes instead of just shrubbery....

 where everybody eats just what they want to eat,

and everybody gets along with each other without having to work at the job.

 Also where little girls don't break wrists.

 Where little children just swat at each other's bubbles they are blowing,

instead of swatting at each other.

(Of course, my kids would never do such a horrid thing. Never.)

 So, you say "No, thanks," to the wishing well.

And you choose to give thanks for 

what you have and who you are and Who God is

right where you are.

Because God inhabits the praises of His people, 

He replaces the Wishing Well with a Well of Joy. 

And you experience a bit of ecstasy over a simple pot of homemade borsch

steaming on the stove, 

made from our own homegrown beets.

 And your mouth waters over a double recipe of chocolate zucchini cake,

made with zucchini from your own daughter's raised garden.

 And when your little daughter has to be tender with her broken wrist,

 you sit beside her and push the buttons on the autoharp and sing

while she strums happily with her left hand.

 You don't have to envy someone else's flowers--

just enjoy them. 

These were my wonderful mother-in-law's nasturtiums, which I couldn't help taking a picture of when we dropped in for a visit.

 And when you really do wonder how you will ever meet the next problem,

or face the next day,

or even get out of bed in the morning,

you can curl up in the arms of Jesus...

And even though the world is spinning topsy-turvy, 

and even the arms of Jesus seem to literally be upside down,

(our recliner throw actually was upside down that day when kitty curled up in the arms of Jesus)

you can choose to stay out of the wishing well and choose the well of joy

which comes as a result of choosing to give thanks!

And just after getting the photos uploaded, Timmy saw the email that said a brother in Christ, 

missionary in Guatemala, had just gone to heaven.

And I left the office in tears, thankful that Bro. Ray Bignell hadn't had to suffer longer, but that Jesus took him home to heaven--another acquaintance resting in the arms of Jesus.

If a person were allowed to park in a wishing well,

one might wish he were there in heaven, too!

But we have work to do, and, in the words of the old poet,  "miles to go before I sleep!"