Currently viewing the tag: "Anne"
Conversation #1:
“Whatcha playing up there?” I asked, when the girls came downstairs after being in their room a while.
“Hotel. We check people in and out.”
“That’s fun. Who do you check in?—Each other? Your dolls?”
“Oh, no! So far we’ve had Barack Obama, Sara Groves, Selena Gomez, and Ben Stiller.”
Okay…
Could a more random list of imaginary hotel clientele possibly be compiled? I think not.
Conversation #2:
Molly: “They should make a board game of Words With Friends.”
Nathan: “Molly, that’s…Scrabble.”
Molly: “Oh, yeah! It kind of is!”
Eleven Christmas seasons ago, I was pregnant with Anne Elizabeth. Born on December 14, little Anne even got to be Baby Jesus in our church’s Christmas performance. Jesus, it turned out, was very hungry that night, and cried “his” little lungs out through the entire show.
Something about being pregnant in December made me feel extra motherly, and Luke’s gospel telling of Christ’s birth jumped off the pages of Scripture to me that year. I was especially taken with Mary herself, as though she and I were somehow connected by our round bellies and swollen ankles. I saw four attributes in Mary to emulate in my own life, and the first is this: Mary had a willing spirit.
As a young, engaged virgin, Mary’s angelic encounter must have been overwhelming at best. Terrifying, too, and even absurd. “Mary, I know you’re a virgin and all, but you’re about to be pregnant. And also, your baby will be God.” Crazy! But “nothing is impossible with God,” Gabriel concluded, and Mary replied, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.” (Luke 1:26-38)
May it be to me as you have said. It doesn’t get much more willing than that. I can’t think of the last time I uttered anything close to Mary’s response, at least not without months of arguing and wrestling and trying to figure things out first. Mary did none of that. Just simply, “May it be to me as you have said. I’ll do whatever you say, Lord, and I’ll take whatever you give. I’m your servant.”
And, like mother, like Son. More than three decades later, Jesus himself would speak very similar words to his Father, on an agonizing night in a garden. “Everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” (Mark 14:36)
Nothing is impossible…everything is possible.
May it be to me…not my will but yours.
Oh, what God can do with a willing spirit! With Mary’s willingness, God brought the Messiah into the world. With Christ’s willingness, He brought salvation on the cross. I wonder…if I had the willingness of Mary and Jesus Christ, what impossible feat would God accomplish through me?
Maybe He’d restore a relationship.
“Amy, I want you to forgive her. Let her off the hook.”
“Okay, Lord, I will. I’ll do whatever You ask.”
Maybe God would quiet an anxiety.
“Quit telling me this is impossible, child. Trust Me.”
“I believe You, Father! May it be to me as You have said.”
Maybe, if I were willing, God would use my life to bear much fruit for His glory.
“Just remain in me, and let my words remain in you. I’ll do more than you can more than you can even imagine.” (John 15:7-8; Ephesians 3:20-21)
“Oh, use me. I’m your servant.”
Lord God, You accomplish the crazy. Nothing is impossible with You! Grant me a more willing spirit, Father. Make me more like Mary and more like the Christ. What can you do—through me—with a willing spirit? Whatever it is, God, may it be to me as you have said. I’m your servant. Amen.
A few days ago, Anne and Molly played with water guns. They squirted and squealed and skipped around, like two little girls who have no idea how to fire guns, but just want to get wet. Which is exactly what they are.
“Hey!” Molly laughed after taking a squirt to the face, “Watch the eyes!”
Anne confidently called back, “Well, I don’t aim! I just fire!”
I don’t aim. I just fire. How many things in my life could be described that way? My physical health: I don’t aim to exercise regularly. I just eat whatever I please. With writing…the books I dream of writing won’t get written unless I aim to write more than I facebook. In my undisciplined speech, my selfish attitude, and even at times when it comes to my parenting, I’m reactive rather than proactive and intentional.
I don’t aim. I just fire.
So what is my aim? The aim in every friendship? My aim for my marriage, my kids, my life? The apostle Paul knew just where to aim.
“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his suffering, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.” (Philippians 3:10-11)
To know Christ—that’s the aim. That’s the goal toward which we “press on”. Knowing Christ and becoming like Him, representing Jesus and pointing others to Him. The aim, in a word, is Christ.
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5)
Sundays, not surprisingly, are crazy in our home. Well, they’re crazy for Andy. The rest of us just wave to him as he goes by.
A few weeks ago, while Anne was sick with a fever, Andy had an especially busy Sunday. After being at the church building for literally 13 hours, Andy rushed home to get a few things before heading to his next meeting. He didn’t have time to talk—just told us he loved us from the doorway before heading out again.
When the garage door closed behind him, I heard a little sniff coming from the direction of the couch. Anne was crying.
“Anne, are you sad?”
She nodded.
“Are you missing Daddy?”
Tears poured down her face as she wailed, “I don’t even know what he’s wearing!”
Who knew Andy’s clothes were so important? But it wasn’t really his attire that bothered her. Tender Anne felt disconnected from the person she loves most: her father. Anne was saying, in essence, “He was gone before I woke up, and I couldn’t say good morning. He’ll be gone when I go to bed, so I can’t say good night. I miss him so much…and I don’t even know what he’s wearing!”
As I write this, I’m locked in Andy’s office, away from kids and home. It’s been too long since I’ve taken a whole day to connect with my Father. To not just “log pages” on some daily Bible reading plan, but to truly hear Him speak in His Word. To converse with Him in prayer. To be still before Him, and remain in Him, and enjoy His presence.
It has been too long, Lord. Keep me connected to You! I don’t even know what You’re wearing.–Let me see You today. Amen.
A version of this post was first published on Ungrind’s blog, Fresh Brew.
“Mommy,” Anne called from the kitchen table, “come look at my picture!”
I leaned over her shoulder to praise the art of my then five-year-old.
“Very pretty,” I encouraged. “I really like how colorful the rainbow is.”
As I turned to walk away, I noticed another picture laying on the table next to her crayon box. “Did you color this one, too?”
“Oh,” she shrugged. “That’s the one I messed up on. It’s not good.”
I looked closer at the cast-off. It was a rainbow, too, but a little misshapen. Anne had drawn a giant X over this picture, and printed the letters B U.
“Anne, what is B U for?”
“‘Cuz it’s not good. You know. Boo.”
Boo!
So often, the “pictures” I make with my life deserve a big X, too. My selfish attitude, my sinful desires, my lack of love. One look at my heart, and God must want to say, “That’s not good! Boo!”
And yet, God lets the righteousness of Jesus count as mine. His goodness becomes my own. “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21) In other words, God looks, not at the life I’ve messed up on, but on the picture Jesus made for me.
And what a beautiful Artist He is.
I’ve written before about the fantastic mother-daughter ministry of Dannah Gresh. The girls and I attended a Secret Keeper Girls conference last year, and I’ve been crazy about Mrs. Gresh ever since. This summer, the girls and I followed one of her books of Mother-Daughter dates, and I’ll always treasure the memories made and conversations shared.
Next month, Gresh releases her newest book, Six Ways to Keep the “Little” in Your Girl. I’ve pre-ordered my copy and can’t wait to read it. Between now and the book’s release, Dannah is leading “30 Days of Prayer for Your Daughter”. Read more about it here. If you have a daughter—especially between the ages of 8 and 12—please visit Dannah Gresh’s Pure Freedom and Secret Keeper Girl sites to find out more on this life-changing, life-giving ministry.
We had an exciting Sunday at Real Life Church a few weeks ago…over 70 baptisms! Here are my two favorites.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation;
the old has gone, the new has come!
2 Corinthians 5:17
(This post was originally published in June, 2008, and as a devotion I wrote for the staff of our church’s Vacation Bible School.)
Who is Like You?
When Anne learned her numbers “all the way” to 100, I listened to her count proudly many times a day. Over the dinner table, during car rides, at bedtime. “1, 2, 3, 4…” I’d smile politely and feign interest at first, but somewhere around 14, I’d quit listening until her triumphant “100!”
One day after counting, Anne asked, “Is 100 the highest number? I mean, is 100 infinity?”
I explained that numbers go on forever. Infinity means it never ends. Counting never stops. (Thankfully, though, Anne still couldn’t go beyond 100.)
Her childlike question made me smile. 100 is nothing compared to infinity.
It’s the same with God.
Think about His greatness—His power and wisdom and grace. Mind-blowingly huge. And when you’ve reached the height of your comprehension, you’ve only scratched the surface. Merely counted to 100, next to an infinite God.
The story of Moses is the story of a God who blows the lid off the box of His people’s expectations and understanding. The burning bush, the plagues, the exodus from Egypt and the arrival in the promised land…over and over again, God performed wonders for Moses and the Israelites. And His wonders were always for the good of His people; God used His infinite power for their benefit—to save them and set them free.
What in your life’s story seems impossible? Finances? Relationships? Health? Whatever the obstacle, He is big enough. The same God who worked wonders for Moses still works wonders on behalf of His children today. He still wants to save and set free.
“Who…is like you, O Lord? Who is like you–majestic in holiness, awesome in glory, working wonders?” (Exodus 15:11)
Indeed, no one matches Him. No one else even comes close.
Anne is our lover of beauty. Music, dance, purple socks with hot pink pants and a rainbow-striped shirt. (I said she loves beauty, not fashion.)
Just today, Anne picked an ivy leaf and brought it to me. “Look, Mama! It’s a beautiful heart!” With Anne, every sentence is an exclamation.
Anne’s passion for “pretty” cracked us up a few years ago, when our family went to Disneyland. With its princesses, happily ever after, and “magic”, Disneyland was made for Anne. She had wide eyes and a full heart all day long.
And then we went to the Tiki Room.
Or, rather, to the Tiki-Tiki-Tiki-Tiki-Tiki Room.
Lights, music, fountains, sparkles…”where the birds sing words and the flowers croon”…it was all too much. Anne simply could not contain herself. She jumped to her feet, threw up her arms and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Oh, it’s SO BEAUTIFUL!”
I love that girl.
And, I want to be like her! Not when it comes to animatronics, necessarily. But I want to love God so deeply and live in such awe of Him that I simply can’t contain my worship.
That’s what happened to Peter and John, in the Book of Acts. They faced punishment for proclaiming the name of Jesus, but instead of backing down, they responded, “…we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.” (Acts 4:20)
It happened to Jeremiah, too. God’s Spirit set his heart ablaze. “…if I say, ‘I will not mention him or speak any more in his name,’ his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20:9)
Lord, let it happen to me! Consume me. Let every word, every action, every thought please You and make You known. Overwhelm me. Burn in me until I’m “weary of holding it in”–until I “cannot help” but declare You. Be uncontainable in me. Amen.
We’ve been up to our tree-topper with Nutcracker rehearsals and performances. This year, Molly was a bonbon, and Anne was a soldier. In my ballet-challenged, motherly-biased opinion, they were, of course, phenomenal.
However, just before the final performance, the stomach flu came on Anne with a vengeance. And when I say, “with a vengeance”, I mean, “in the van”. Twice.
And several times thereafter.
Thank goodness for two casts of performers, and alternates who can fill in for sick soldiers at the very last minute. Anne and I came home and snuggled on the couch before I tucked her in bed with a giant plastic bowl. I prayed and sang until she fell asleep.
As I sang, I thought about when she was born nine years ago, and how hugely inadequate I felt to be the mother of a daughter. I prayed for wisdom in raising her to be the woman God created. I imagined her life years from now–a life filled with beauty and music and, stomach flu notwithstanding, dance.
I made up one of my terrible off-the-cuff tunes to Numbers 6:24-26, and sang it over her again and again.
The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.
An hour later, Anne was up again with another bout. When I settled her back under the covers and kissed her hot forehead, she said sleepily, “Will you sing that song you sang before? The one about God’s face.”
I’m certain the tune wasn’t the same the second time around, but at least it still put her to sleep. As I sang version two, I prayed again.
Lord, make my whole life sing about You! Every word written, every lesson taught, every laugh shared, every tune sung over a giant plastic bowl–let it all be a song about You, Your glory, Your face. Amen.
A lesson from last year’s Nutcracker - Advent Week 4: Angels and Peace
