I just thought with all the CoOLness that I have going on here, I needed soMebOdy to laugh with me!

Flip flops with socks.
I was painting and cold.
And being a messy painter, knowing that whatever I wear at the time will serve as long term proof of my project, I thought this to be a rather ingenious solution.

Ingenuity may be warm, but it just must not be that cool.
Sarah looked at my feet, raised an eyebrow and asked if I was planning on leaving the house dressed like that.

Hmmm. A fleeting thought of opportunistic manipulative power crossed my brain.
Something like, " OK, children. Mommy will promise not to show up at school and youth group like this, if you promise to do your chores without complaining for the next year."

It was fleeting.
I wouldn't do that. 
But the imagined scenarios put a big smile on my face.
Oh yes.

And just look at all the chaos we have with my coolness.
Here's the kitchen;

We removed two layers of vinyl floor coverings, two layers of subfloor and thousands of nails.
I just feel this need to clarify that we removed two layers of vinyl floor coverings, two layers of subfloor and thousands of nails.
And then under that was this disgusting layer of tar paper that needed coaxed from its grip. It very determinedly left behind a black scum that required goo-be-gone and repeated scrubbing.

All that to get to the hard wood floor that we knew was under there.

There really will be something beautiful after all the mess!
I don't have a "before" picture at the moment. 
For now, all I have is a "during."
It's messy in the middle.

( And did I mention inconvenient? )
( Let me mention inconvenient. )
( My fridge is now about 15 ft from my little kitchen counter. Our table is blocking the front door, so you'll have to come around to the back. Which I actually hope that you would anyway, because backdoor friends are better. And the cupboard that I use for storage is outside the back door on the porch.)
 
A wee bit more about chaotic, cool and inconvenient.
Here's our bathroom;

 

I had to laugh when I came home from Walmart the other day.
There was a TOILET sitting on our front porch roof!
Seriously.
How can you beat that kind of COOL?!!!
I don't know anyone else who can claim that one!
( It sounds like material for those, "You know you're a redneck..." jokes, doesn't it? )
Our one and only full bath is being gutted and remodeled ( they are removing stuff out thru the window and down scaffolding. This project is a long overdue necessity; antiquated, dilapidated and probably some other kind of -ated issues with plumbing, ventilation, carpenter ants and a potty leaning more and more to the left.)
I feel this need to clarify something again.
Our one and only full bath.
That part.
The "one" part.
The "only" part.
There.
That's clear now, isn't it?


 We are having ourselves a little adventure here in our very own house, aren't we?
We have a powder room downstairs. yes. But we are showering, using a makeshift arrangement in our basement, next to the garbage cans and two large recycling bins.

It's messy in the middle all right.

"If the end is nice, the middle mess is not only bearable but takes on the endpoint's sheen."
~~Andree Seu

Totally believable with my kitchen floor.
Even with my bathroom and needing to wear flip flops in my own house just to bathe and stay clean at the same time! 

Not so believable... with gut wrenching, life altering, permanent-on-this-planet change or loss of something or someone. 

I would pick that God's perfect work would be revealed thru how He changed circumstances or the people around me, all to keep me healthy and happy.
I'm really not into pain.
I wouldn't voluntarily sign up for difficulty so that God would grow you or me.
No thanks.
But we don't have to look around that hard, or live that long, to see and know that life, in our broken world, runs us over with evil, pain and suffering.
Fair shmair.
It's not.
And we know it. 
Then we wrestle with His sovereignty. Knowing that He allowed it.
We wrestle with His providence. Wondering on a good-bad day, but demanding on a bad-bad day; why on earth this was considered wisdom in management, love and care for His children, or provision for the future?!
We wrestle with guilt. Measuring ourselves among ourselves, we come up with some kind of pain-o-meter, feeling bad that we hurt when so and so is...you fill in the blanks.
God does not minimize heartbreak, people do. (Beth Moore)
He is not scared by how big something is, we are.
"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." Not, blessed are they that cope, by deciding someone else has more pain.
How can He bind our wounds, if we try to believe that we're not really that wounded?

And you thought that I was writing about house projects.
I did too.
But.
It's actually about me.
I have revealed a snapshot of myself here.

Layered and messy.

Those kitchen floors and ewwwww, tar paper? Me.
The gutted-start-over bathroom? Me.

I am s-l-o-w-l-y learning to know who I am. God is revealing the layers, the back behind, the underneath, the deep down thoughts and motives, my comfort zone and the arrangements that I have made to keep it intact. My unbelief, pride, fears and trust issues. My doubt of His unconditional love. My pursuit of 1-2-3 steps and formulas to fix the surface...

Not so neat and tidy.
I want desperately to call it a "during".

But, unlike a house project, absolutely nothing about what rips us up and knocks us down, 
feels like a middle. Nothing about it looks like a middle. Nothing about it says middle.
It just says hard. Permanent on this planet hard.

I race to Jesus like Martha at times, in tear streaked authenticity,  Where were you??? It could been different!
I bring him my broken pieces, like the father with his son in Mark 9, "If you can do anything, take pity on us and help." 
I make it to His feet, but still wondering if surely, I am the exception to Who He Is.
Sometimes I find myself changing roles in that story.
 I am the bystander, observing what seems hopeless saying, Oh my. Look. It's over. 
Then I am the son. Desperately needing someone else to take me to Jesus.
 
The deceiver wants us to believe that "the middle will last forever." 
 He planned to take us down and out and pound us with; this.is.all.there.is.
He steals our joy and crushes all hope. He whispers that we are the exception.

But God made promises.
Knowing me. Knowing You.
Knowing today.
And we are not the exception to them.

Am I writing because I "get it?"
No.
I am writing because I don't.

I want to enter His sanctuary, believe like Abraham, cry out like Job, and praise and sing with a willing spirit and a sustained heart.
When I tried to understand all this, it was oppressive to me till I entered the sanctuary of God..."        Ps 73:16 &17
"... Abraham, "Against all hope...in hope believed."       Romans 4:18
Job cried out," I know that my Redeemer lives...He knows the way I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold."     Job 19:25, 23:10"
"Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God's. Tomorrow march down against them...Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you...As they began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushes..."
2 Chron. 2:5-30
"Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant a willing spirit, to sustain me."   Ps 51:12

The point to revealing my layers, is not for me to simply realize my mess and who I am, 
But to know who He IS.
And My NEED for who He IS.
 
He is the Great Physician to cleanse and heal me from the inside out. 
He's a carpenter, building a solid foundation so that I can respond out of what His truth is, rather than to react out of what I fear.
He is my Blessed Redeemer. He proclaims freedom for the captives and exchanges ashes for beauty, mourning for gladness, and a spirit of despair for a garment of praise. (Isaiah 61)

There really will be something beautiful after all the mess...because He wants it more than me.
I don't have a "before" picture at the moment. 
For now, all I have is a "during."
It's messy in the middle.

Redemption?
His idea.

And the Ultimate Cool.

"When they saw the courage of Peter and John
and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men,
they were astonished and they took note that these men
had been with Jesus."
Acts 4:13

I have these conversations with my boys.
It's not really about red shirts.
The red shirt thing started because between the two of them, someone is usually wearing a red shirt.
So it became a convenient visual aid.
The question is; is the shirt red because I call it red?
OR , is it red no matter what I call it ?
What if I would like to call it green and just maybe you would like to call it purple.
What if you like what your friends call it better?
What if I find a whole group of people who call it what I want it to be?
What if I don't want to call it anything?
What color would it STILL be ?

Are things what I call them or are they what they are regardless ...?
Is something wrong only if I call it wrong...or get caught ?
Does it matter if I do something Right for the Wrong reasons?
Do I want obedience only because I am in the room ?
Who Knows? Who Sees? Who Cares?

It's so much bigger than little ole' mom.
It's not about legalism.
It's that heart thing.

The shirt is red no matter what I call it.

It is red no matter what you call it.

Please know that I know.
Not everything is black and white, er... red, or cut and dried.
But there are absolutes.
I want to Know Him and His Truth.
Who HE is, who He wants me to be and what He calls it.
Knowing Him makes His Word way more than just another good book.

I want to learn it, live it, teach it...so that they will want to KNOW the author too...
 
Because the little boys in red shirts are growing up so fast.


Edit: sorry...this is a post from the archives, back when I really could call the oldest two, "little."
  I am trying this publishing to fb thing. 

I liked the A's that popped into my head, hence the title that excludes more than it actually includes here!

Last fall we biked about half of the Mt. Vernon Trail. A few weekends ago we finished the other half, riding from George Washington's Mt. Vernon Estate to Alexandria. I rode my bike with Sarah on the tagalong (you know, that extra seat, pedals and wheel thingy) and found, gasp, that a long winter spent not exercising = alot of pain while biking. Thankfully the pain included fun like the playground, spring flowers, beautiful neighborhoods, the Potomac River, pizza at Bertucci's and coffee at Misha's...all with my very favorite people.

 

Then there was our visit to Antietam Battlefield and Harper's Ferry, both of which will probably be remembered more for their accessibility to water and our heaving and throwing of rocks...than for the historical and Civil War significance.  It is really hard to beat the big, wet splashes of the present with some facts of long ago!

                            

       



The kids and I enjoyed a multi-cultural experience in D.C. on May 2nd; the annual open house events at the Embassies!!!  We sampled roving hors d'oeuvres, viewed colorful displays and enjoyed interesting music at the Trinidad and Tobago Embassy. There was face painting and alot of food; lamb, fish, breads, cheeses and oils "in" Australia. Sarah and I liked the beautiful costumes in a century old, very ornate mansion now known as the Embassy of Indonesia. I think that we visited seven in all, which was probably about 3 too many...   

I had people questioning my sanity...er...let's see...how was it? Maybe they commented on my courage or something like that... and I will tell you, as I told them, that I have Great Kids who are Real Troupers and lots of fun.

We all love, love, loved it, for like the first two hours...until the lines got really long and Miss-Cindy-Rand-McNally walked us the wrong way for more city blocks than I care to recall ...and then I had one child tell me that he hadn't even wanted to go on this day trip and he would much rather be at home doing Normal Saturday Things.

 

Normal Saturday things, huh?
Like room cleaning, lawn mowing and basement sweeping.
I decided that I must be doing something totally right to have children begging for Normal Saturday things.
Sure.
Plan B was finishing out our day with frisbee throwing on the mall, the Air and Space Museum, and a pizza supper at the Union Train Station. 

 

      
Notice the precious child on the far right. You can imagine how delightful the got-up-early-no-nap combination with a preschooler was in the latter part of our day.  He claimed this Rocket-Propeller interactive display as his own. For those who tentatively approached, thinking that it belonged to the museum by George, Jacob would growl and snap like some cute but territorial little dog.
It was time to go home. 

 

 

A recent highlight for our family was attending a lecture at the National Air and Space Museum.
 "My Enemy, My Friend" was given by Brig. Gen. Dan Cherry and the Vietnamese pilot, Hong My, that he had shot down in 1972. An amazing, powerful story of reconciliation from the war in Vietnam. The two were reunited just last year and have formed an unlikely friendship.
                                  

I do not claim to have an understanding of God's timing.
Sometimes I like it, sometimes I don't.
Last week, in His perfect timing, He led me to this verse;
Psalm 84:3
"Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young---
a place near your altar,
O Lord Almighty, my king and my God."

I had just lost one more way of "belonging."
And He showed me the place that I still and will always belong.
The one place that no one can take from me.

"...a place near your altar..."

An altar is a place of sacrifice, of worship...
...so that's where I want to be, offering my sacrifice of praise.

He is MY Lord Almighty, my king and my God.
Amen.