Why create a tempter at all?

     I have had more time to myself as of late, at least an hour or so a day, much more than I am used to. There are times when I'm doing mindless activities such as changing diapers, doing laundry, cooking spaghetti for one more dinner that I wonder if my mind even works anymore. Time off proves that it does, and since I have now been awake since 6:00 am (thank you very much, Jacob) I decided not to mope around but instead to blog.

     Let me pose a question, completely hypothetical and imaginary in nature.  If there was a button you could press to make your life perfectly good and successful by your definition, no heartache or grief involved, would you do it?  I spend about 10% of my time praying and trusting God to give me what I need to raise my children and about 90% scared to death that I'm parenting a wayward child, or that I might lose one of them and my life would never be the same.  So again I pose this, if you could press a button that would ensure your children to grow up happy, productive citizens, would you do it?  

      I've been thinking about this.  You may even say, as one of my radical Christian friends :) that I already have that button, and that is the word of God.  BUT, I know plenty of parents who attempted to raise their children as a steward of the word and rebellion rebuttal-ed!  There is no way we can guarantee how our children will turn out, although prayer and study of the word will certainly work in our favor if we are given over to it in constant devotion.  And yet, if there was no chance of our children becoming wayward, we would have no reason to be in constant devotion and prayer over them.  Now I'm straying from my point even, because I posed a question that I've been thinking over for days.  Despite the fact that, yes I will say it, I am obsessed with seeing my children be normal, successful, productive citizens that know the Lord, if I could ensure it absolutely I would not do it.  

    Why?  Because if I pressed this hypothetical, imaginary button then they wouldn't need me anymore. Sure they would need a caretaker, but not a parent and that is what I love most about my kids, the interaction with them.  My family and I took Jake to meet Thomas the Train yesterday. Jake is so funny because he gets so serious when he is happy.  He's all stoic when he sees Thomas. That is joy for Jake, to be serious.  Why build these special memories with him if he's going to turn out "good" regardless of what I do?  I would take my job far less serious if I knew that to do it well or do it halfheartedly, he would turn out the same. 

   

     "Why create a tempter at all?"  I've had those words floating around in my head.  God created everyone that is good by this world's standards, everyone that is evil by this world's standards.  I had a really difficult time on September 11th. Paul and I watched a special on the events in New York.  I found myself telling God, "You better make sure those terrorists burn in Hell!," and then I remembered that God created them.  He must have had a reason. I don't know that this is Biblical other than the fact that God created you before you were born, has all of your days numbered before you are even born, desires to give us hope and a future, so there is no doubt in my mind that each one of us was anticipated.  So another question, if you could see into your future all of the good you are capable of, and all of the bad you are capable of, given the outcome would you still want to live?  What about for your children?  I mean, my answer is, heck yes I want to keep my kids!  I know given poor instruction they will be given over to sin, but if I can show them an alternative, show them the face of all things good and point them there, they are capable of greatness.  When I see murderers and terrorists on TV I wonder what could have crossed God's mind when he created them.  But I don't think God creates us thinking, "this person will bring evil into the earth, and that is my intention" but instead, "They are going to do so much to bring my glory onto this earth if they choose me."  And we all have to choose, and it is that very choice that ultimately determines our fate.  

     So what if there was no evil. I know that anyone in a season of hurting or despair, or remembers one that might have just passed will say, "I'd prefer a world with no evil, no suffering!," but if we had that button that would predetermine only good, by our definition, then why would you have any reason to even read this blog? Why would you need me, and why would I need you?  Why would you need God?  The answer to all of these questions is simply, you wouldn't at all.  I often become frustrated with this "God doesn't want us to suffer" gospel because without it, without evil, we wouldn't need relationship, one of God's greatest gifts. Relationship with one another, and relationship with Him. It's hard to imagine what kind of praise that God created Satan to deliver to Him, Satan was one of the most beautiful angels, surely God had a beautiful plan for him.  Isn't it scary that even in the face of God one can turn away?  Pride is our enemy, for sure.  

     Well, I think I deserve some sort of medal for writing this blog, not because of its content or ease of reading or insight, but because I have a two year old standing behind me in the computer chair jumping on my back and sliding off the side saying, "weee," oh, and pulling my hair.  And even though I have some sort of sick logic where I believe that Jake should never have to feel any pain, if he didn't almost die when he was 17 days old, I would not appreciate his life during every cold, every flu bug that is rough for awhile but goes away in a week's time. If he didn't squash his fingers in the door I'd never hear, "Tiss Mommy," as he holds his smashed finger out for me to kiss.  If he didn't feel pain, he wouldn't need me at all.  And if we didn't feel pain, we wouldn't need relationship with God.  But we do need it, so desperately.

    So I think the ultimate question I am asking is: what is freewill worth to you?  Is evil necessary for freewill to exist? To dispute it is almost pointless because it is what it is, but let's not allow God and his Word become too distorted given the culture, both Christian and non-Christian alike.  I'll let you think about it ;)

   I would like to say, as a closing note, that I hope God does not make me prove that I believe this.  He has a not so convenient way of teaching us His principles if we do not grab onto them as truths, and even if we do, setting them firmly into place.  But I am about to spank Jacob for leaving the house and wandering into the yard, and I suspect it's kind of the same sort of thing God has to deal with all of the time.

Can't get away...

    Braxton is my dog from college.  My parents gave him to me for Christmas several years ago and I brought him to Greensboro to live in my apartment with me. I'll never forget the vet telling me that he was a high energy dog and he would need to be walked every day, and preferably learn a game, such as fetch, to expend his endless energy.  At this time he was just a puppy, and as a proud parent I went home with the brochures on teaching dogs fetch and I began my training.  If you know Braxton now, you know that I was a very successful dog trainer. It's all Braxton does, it's all he thinks about.  I'm working on segueing into another topic here, something not so lighthearted so hear me out.  Anyway, we've had an ongoing joke with Braxton since I've been visiting. He pretty much follows my Mom around with this stick and lays it at her feet. She gets out of bed and stubs her foot on the sharp end of the stick, curses Braxton and throws it. She steps down out of her chair and her foot lands right on top of the stick Braxton has strategically placed in front of her.  Only hours later, she sits down  in the chair and pulls her knee up to her chest.  She goes to sit down all the way and of course her leg comes down on this stick.  Ahh! It's like she can't get away from this crazy dog (ok, none of us can get away). She just told me that as she was sleeping last night she rolled over to tell Dave goodnight and as she rolled back over, Braxton and his crazy panting face had placed his porcupine squeaky toy right where she lays and she ended up rolling on top of it. 

      It's makes me laugh every time, but the truth is, I began to see a pattern here.  Braxton puts the stick where he thinks you'll be next, based on where you've been, he tries to tempt you into throwing it, because he won't go away until you do. Furthermore, our family has a golden rule: "don't throw the stick for Braxton or you'll be doing it all night."  Once Braxton knows you'll grab that stick and throw it, he targets you. He comes back over and over because you caved here, there is a likely chance you'll cave again.  Last night Mick grabbed the stick, threw her arm forward and then backwards and let the stick fly behind her. "I cheat the system now" she laughed, and sure enough, Braxton was running around in front of Mick looking for the stick she threw.  When he can't find it, he's quick to find another that looks just like it. It's exhausting resisting Braxton.  

     I love Braxton, and Braxton is not Satan (although my Mom probably disagrees with this statement) but isn't that just how Satan works. He meets us where we're at, puts traps right under our feet, and we're too busy to even look for them. The same traps ensnare us over and over. It's disgusting. Furthermore, we find ways to cheat the system.  To not acknowledge the attack we must walk the other way, or simply bury our head under a pillow. I do that mostly, fail to resist, which is what Paul instructs us to do!  I have the power to tell that fear to leave, but I let it fall on me because I think I might be foolish if I speak out loud,"Go!"  What in the world?  

     I hate Satan every day, I hate this world (not the people..) most of the time. I especially feel sorrowful today because a young girl was murdered in Charlotte. I did not know her, although I have several friends in common with her on facebook.  She is 23, and so am I.  It is so tragic to me that her life was cut so short.  As far as I know she left with a man from a bar and he killed her.  His mugshot haunts me because I told my Mom, he looks like a normal guy!  I wonder why God made me so sensitive, how am I supposed to live in this world?  Of course, I cling to Him and His promises, but when the noises of the world choke out that small voice, when the media bombards me with murder mystery after murder mystery (Dave watches back to back "dateline," ugh) I wonder how I am supposed to cope.  Geeze, I don't want to even think about me- what about these poor parents that just lost their daughter?  Her Dad was the police chief of Concord, you sort of feel like those kind of families should be immune to these terrible upsets, because they work in law.  But none of us are safe. We just have to trust, have faith, obey, and pray and not fall into these traps.  Paul was telling me about this horrible serial rapist that murdered all of these girls and apparently Paul saw a special on him on tv where he was interviewed. He said it all started with a simple addiction to pornography and he became obsessed with controlling women. 

      That's the thing with these traps, eventually we just latch on because they keep coming up to us and we're too lazy, too spiritually stagnant, too beaten down to do anything about it.  I'm trying to think what could maybe stall these traps, and I can only come up with one thing: evangelism. Spreading the love of God, planting seeds.  Those of us who believe in God have been shaped by our culture to believe that if we utter the name "Jesus" we're radical, judgmental, self-righteous, and stuck up.  Maybe we're going about this all wrong if that is the impression.  It all comes down to love, the antidote to fear.  It's about all of us holding the keys to squash these traps, to stand in the gap for others, to fight for them.  I have the answer to solve any addiction, any obsession, any fear, to heal disease and I keep my lips sealed. That is a trap in itself.  I'm not in any sort of mood to try to convince a murderer he can make it into heaven, I'd rather not see him there nor do I think he deserves it, but that's why I'm not God.  Anyway, we must remember that Paul, who wrote a good portion of the New Testament, murdered Christians before he was Paul. An encounter with the living God can change anyone.  Now if I could just get to a place where I'm brave enough to share those keys I have.  Fear has had my number for far too long.  How about you?

Legacies

     Last night I had the privilege of introducing Jake to the Cabarrus County Fair.  The fair was once my favorite part of the entire year, almost parallel to Christmas if I were to rate my anticipation alone.  I have been going since I was born, pictures of me riding the carousel with my Mom adorn pages of one of my favorite photo albums, along with one of my sister and I hugging Barney while at the fair. Mick and I were even put in the paper one year, sitting and eating barbecue at the Troutman's hut. I love going because it was a time when Mick and I would get to spend an entire evening together.  Last night, I loved watching Jake's "serious face" as he rode the "copters" and "chucks" but my favorite part of the fair still today is to ride with my sister.  I hope one day Jake can say that too, that the rides are fun and all but the BEST part about the fair is how it brings family together.  There is something incredibly exciting and charming about hearing Mckenzie say, "I think I'm going to throw up."  It's ok, she's never actually gone through with it.  I love my sister and even though we've spent a good part of our lives being at odds with one another, even given our differences, we have always been the best of friends if a funnel cake and "spins so fast you're sick" rides are involved.  Not that Jake understands now, but he will one day. Mommy loves this, and I'm having a good time because she's yelling "weee!" like the weirdo that she surely is.  Yes, that is the legacy that I hope to leave Jake.
          
  I really felt like I should mention the fair, although that is actually not the experience that brought "legacy" to mind.  The fair was last night, the barn cookout was tonight.  You know, when I tell people that I grew up on a horse farm they look at me like I'm some mythological creature, that I hopped off the pages of a fairy tale.  In some ways, my life was a fairy tale. Tonight, I watched the 10-16 year olds chasing one another, setting up tents for the camp out, tacking up horses and turning on the ring lights to get one last ride in. That was me only a short time ago.  That was my life.  I watched Harley and Shannon trying to jump over the coop (not on horseback, on foot- it's a favorite challenge for horse kiddos).  I remember when that coop was built.  Furthermore, either Mick or I were the very first ones to jump over the coop, to invent that game.  Before the ring was even built, I was rolling around in the piles of sand until the tractor smoothed it out.  Seeing the bare feet of young ones kicking up that sand behind them as they raced through horse manure and dust reminds me of a simpler time.


      I brought Sonora in to the tack room to show her. At least ten saddles lined up on the wall belonging to the lesson program, teaching other kids to ride. I counted, "1...2...3.." of the saddles used to be mine.  A small crosby, a Synthetic, and then the Pessoa, my very favorite.  The girths, "1...2...3...4" were once my girths or my sisters and they eventually were inherited by the lesson program as we grew older.  My old helmet now belongs to Shannon. I remember the day I got my braid saver, a stretchy fabric that goes over a horse's braids before a show the next day.  Jazz always looked so super fancy and adorable in that thing.  Now it belongs to the grandkid's and their ponies.  I used to not pick up on smells of the barn because it was just part of me, but the leather scent of the tack room stirred such nostalgia.  I remember what it was like.


     There is no self pity in this statement: I never owned a super fancy pony. I owned well behaved, very nice, very competitive ponies and horses. Granted, the barn was not the show barn that it is now.  I guess that's my point.  The kids now all ride adorable ponies, win at these BIG fancy shows, and my parents are horse experts.  But, it started with Mick and I on Secret and Corduroy, not standing a chance at even sixth place at a schooling show.  We were happy though, and we loved those ponies.  And geeze, if there were time machines and I could actually go back knowing what I know now, I wouldn't give up the chance to show Jazzy Lady for the nicest pony in the world.  But, the kids get to do what they do now because of what Mick and I have ridden through, worked our way up to, and then passed the baton onto the next generation of barn rats.  I can remember teaching a lesson student who once said, "I want to ride like you," and I'm pretty sure I responded something like, "I'm sure you will one day."  Now, I want to say to her, "no, you will be better than me!"  And they all will, and that makes me very happy.  


      Sure, there are fancier ponies and horses walking the halls of Ridge Haven.  The shows are bigger, the trucks and trailers are way nicer, and Dave works harder than ever.  But, if you were to stop in front of the barn and dig down below the posts, the hunter green paint will stop, and below are two young hand prints plastered on each side, and those are mine.  The second fence post boasts even smaller prints, those of my sister.  These days, the closest I get to any horse is driving by a pasture and seeing one grazing on the side of the road.  But while I am visiting home I see these kids riding and even though I have an emptiness, an ache in my heart that misses it so, I feel pride. I feel warmth and joy as I see these kids enjoying horses like I once did.  I hope, as one of the original barn rats, that they will enjoy these days. How quickly they pass, as I well know.  But I like to think that Mick and I left a sort of legacy, an invisible hand print on the side of Ridge Haven that includes more than jumping the coop on foot, sleeping outside in tents, riding horses well after the sun has gone down, bathing in the wash pit, riding the four wheeler, and chatting with the other barn rats until our sundrop high wears off, oh gosh, and a million other things, but that horses just make everything better.  That relationship you have with the other barn rats, the lesson parents, all of the laughter, the tie that binds each one that invests his or her time at the barn, you can't find that anywhere else in the entire world.  It's truly special, and I pray that no one gives it up earlier than they have to.  Carry it with you, everywhere and always, and most especially, pass it on.  

Ephesians 3:20

^"20Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,"



        This is the story of my life.  Why am I given so much?  Why am I so blessed?  You know, I woke up this morning and rolled over to see the most beautiful little girl face I have ever seen.  Seconds later I was greeted by the name, "Mommy," from my rough and tumble little boy across the room.  What angelic alarm clocks I have.  I don't think I would change anything about my life.  Maybe a couple of impossible tasks (even by the hand of God!), like if only I could be in two places at once my life would be a bit easier.  I wouldn't mind having four arms, or maybe another body altogether.  Maybe that's called a maid?  In which case I would need a bit more money, which isn't impossible but I've begun to accept that it may not be what my family is called to.  The point is, I am happy.  I love the way things have turned out.


        Jake is busy. He is strong-willed.  He is a relatively laid back little boy all the same.  He cracks me up when he says "cow eat corn" and he wants me to tickle the little spot above his knees, and he rolls around on the floor and giggles. It's the same way my grandpa loved to make me laugh. I love family. I love my family.  I have been so blessed to have parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles that love me so much.  I have in-laws that are like family, they are my family.  I am very blessed.
       I don't know much about Sonora Grace yet, even though she seems to be quite sensitive, loves attention, and happy when she gets her rest...ok, she is so far, exactly like me.  She is after all, my daughter.  I love having a little girl.  I especially love when she is crying and only I can comfort her- there, my secret is exposed.
      Then there is Paul, the cliche "peanut butter to my jelly sandwich", and whatever else goes perfectly together, well then that is us.  He is the best, without him I don't even think I would care to know Ephesians 3:20.  He began my love for this verse.  I thought I was happy before Paul, but once I married him I finally understood what "better than you can imagine" actually means.  I had  a plan and God turned it upside down, into something much more beautiful than I had planned.  Thank you God, and thank you Paul.


      I guess that is it for now. I have a baby girl waking up and a toddler trying to escape.  Is there any way to really childproof a door?  This blog is going to be fun, hopefully I can make time for it.