The Gratitude Project

Posted on October 31, 2011 by lisabeech

Happy Halloween, From All The Wild Things

“Apple, peaches, pumpkin pie, who’s not ready holler, I!”

Me, that’s who’s not ready. Today, October 31st is upon us. Happy Halloween, Friends. Tomorrow welcomes the month of November and I’m so… not ready. Are you?

What’s a frantic, fall loving gal like me to do. So many plans to make, so many friends and family to visit, and so many new recipes to test on unsuspecting guests. (wink, wink) My head’s in a spin, and I’m talking Linda Blair style.

Okay, maybe it’s not that bad, but you get the picture, right? I’m sure I’m not the only one who sees the writing on the wall, and it’s full of menus, chores, and seasonal commotion. If you have children, multiply the chaos factor by the number of kids that you have, or that linger in your house, and add 1 for each in-law you have. (Just kidding, Folks, I love my hubby’s family.)

Yes, tomorrow my little desk calendar will read November 1st, My heart will pound a tad bit harder. My throat will tighten as my clenching jaw joins in the fun. My brow will furrow just enough to be noticed. (I know, Mom, you warned me and now it’s stuck that way.) Egads, it’s true, November heralds Thanksgiving. Contrary to what my appetite is telling me, it’s not all about the grilled turkey and homemade pumpkin pies. Mmm…pie It’s about gratitude.

Determined to be proactive against my inner angst and melancholic tendencies, I have devised a plan to counteract my mantic lifestyle, tormented mental state and anxious spirit. I need some strong medicine. I call it the Gratitude Project. It’s just what the doctor ordered. To get with the spirit of thankfulness, starting November 1st, I will post one thing for which I am grateful. Care to join me?

If so, feel free to post here those things for which you’re thankful. Or, jot down your list in a fancy felt journal or nearby tablet. Be sure to share your list with your loved ones. This could be a family project. I know I’m always trying to find meaningful ways in which to bring my sons together.

Gratitude has a way of branching out and upwards!

On November 25th, or whenever you are gathered together with your friends and family, share your lists. Express your heartfelt thanks to God. You don’t have to share everything, just a few items. You’ll be surprised how quickly gratitude can spread.

The Passing of Cookie

Posted on July 8, 2009 by lisabeech

Today one of our gerbils died. The boys called her Cookie. I called her Baby. She was one of four gerbils born 2 1/2 years ago. I don’t usually get too bonded with our family vermin, but she and her sibs were born and raised here.

I had discovered a litter of four baby gerbils, much to my delight, nestled in the corner of the cage. Three were black, one was white. The boys were ecstatic. All the babies grew to adulthood. We separated the females from the males as we did not wish to raise a growing colony of babies.

The females battled for dominance with the mother ruling the roost. The males fought continuously until just one remained. The brothers slaughtered one another, in terrible ways, including gnawing off one another’s feet. Indeed it was the survival on the fittest. The lone male soon succumbed to a mite infestation.

Only the females survived, Cookie and Cream. They became close companions, grooming each other daily, engaging in sporadic boxing episodes. By day, they huddled together for warmth and comfort. By night, they took turns running on the wheel, taking turns grooming one another.

Cookie and Cream - enjoying some sisterly wheel time.

The boys knew their little pets were aging. Cookie’s once charcoal fur was lightened with gray. Henry had recently commented that they would die soon. No one knew that it would be this soon. Cookie died today.

Noah picked Cookie up from the pine bedding and placed her in an Aveno oatmeal bath box. A suitable box for a critter burial. A tear ran down his sweet boyish cheek. Cream ran back and forth, seemingly lost without her sister.

Tonight, Cookie will join the vast number of pets in our garden walk of memories. She will join those who came before her. Friends like Uno, Seth’s little maze mouse, who was slain by Mickey Mouse. Frisky, who suffocated himself in the corner of his cage, wedged between a Habitrail tube and the glass. Snowball, aka Gnurlman, the hated hamster, for whom all prayed that Death would come early. Mickey Mouse, the murderer, who lived a long life in isolation. (He was dearly loved though he slew his brother, Uno.) Shadow, Winter, Crunch and Munch and a litany of beloved vermin lay within the boundaries of our flower bed.

This evening we will gather and remember this family companion. The boys will stiffen their lower lips, trying not to cry. Soil will be lifted and patted gently in place. A friend will be put to rest.

So the cycle of family pets continues. Sad though it is, I will remember these moments with tenderness, for this is what raising children entails. It is bitter sweet. I cherish the memories.

Pope, Pemp & the Doobie Brothers

Posted on April 17, 2009 by lisabeech

Pope and Pemp. These are the names my two youngest sons have given to each other. Over the years, these are the familiar monikers which we use with affection when engaging one another.

Pope is the elder of these two boys. Pemp is two years his minor almost to the day. These brothers share a room as well as something more profound and don’t quite know what to do about it. They share a life. They have a relationship.

At times they play and create the most amazing adventures. Dominos lined up, back to back, cascade up and down the stairs. A maze of tiny monoliths scattered throughout our living space. They tip-toe, careful not to knock over hours of cooperative efforts. They really do enjoy being together.

Togetherness. This is what gives them so much joy and yet too causes so much grief and conflict. Last night was full of anger, hate, and sorrow. They had had “enough” of each other.

The boys sat on the couch, poking at each other and using a list of profanity that was surprisingly violent. “F-erface!” one boy yells. The other sings back, “Pemper – crappy pants, you like trouble-pants, Pemper, crappy-pants.” They intensify the battle with hateful words, tearing at each other much like ravenous wolves. Wounded by bitter barbs, they frantically hurl worsening insults at each other. Tempers flare. The manipulation heightens.

I pull out the only weapon available to me in the heat of this slaughter. The mom voice booms throughout the room. “STOP IT NOW!” They seem to not hear me. I grab the youngest by the arm, staring into his eyes. “I said to STOP. You are violent and this is not going any further. SHUT YOUR MOUTH.” Pope continues to sing. “That includes you and I know you can control your mouth. If not, I’m sure I can help you with it.” I quip.

I hold both of their attentions now. I stammer for the right, most implactful words. They stare blankly at me. I need to act – now. I ask them if they like each other. They willingly admit that they do not. Those once vicious warriors, now begin to whine and to complain, each accusing the other of atrocities and pathetically pleading for their own innocence. They know that I have power over them to make their lives miserable.

Sibling relationships - they need tools to resolve conflict

“So, you both seem to really hate each other.” I observe.

“Yes,” the older agrees. “I wish Pemp was out of my life.”

I turn to the younger boy, ” How do you feel about Pope?”

“I wish he were gone. I am tired of him singing that song about me. He makes me so angry.”

“So, you hate Noah?” I ask, trying to clarify their feelings.

“Yep, we hate each other.” They nod in agreement.

“Ok, so what if on your way to school tomorrow, Pemp crosses the street only to get run over by a truck. He’s dead or dying. How do you feel?”

Noah begins to weep. “No!” he cries out.

I turn to Henry, “What if a bus creams Noah on your way home? Would that get him out of your life?” Henry turns white and begins to weep. “Well,” I continue, “that would get him out of your life, right?”

Both boys cling to each other and start to weep. “Oh,” I observe. “You appear to care about each other. I see that you both don’t really hate each other – not completely. You both would feel horrible if one of you died or nearly died.”

They begin to weep and tell each other that they loved one another. They are no longer hard towards one another. Their hearts have softened. At that moment, all they care about was being together. I seize the moment.

“I think you both really do love one another. You just don’t know how to work out your conflicts. I think you both need to talk about why you are so hurt so that you can be free to enjoy your time with each other.” I pause and wait to see a small miracle.

The barriers come tumbling down. It’s one of the most beautiful moments that I have had with them in quite some time. They were afraid to talk about their feelings. They were confused, embarrassed – even afraid that they could never change. One even feared he was going to hell because he was doomed to be hateful. I understood feeling all of those things. Poor dear boys, my heart just ached for them, but I rejoiced even more. They were talking and sharing from the heart. It was one of those magical moments that only a parent can appreciate – one of those joy and pain moments.

The evening ended with Pemp, Pope and I playing a silly game called Pass the Pigs. I won. Funny, though I may have won the game, these boys are the ones who had the victory. It was a victory of redemptive love. I hope to build on that moment – to use it in equipping them to build a deeper relationship.

A game played together - proof that pigs can play together like men

I could go back and second guess how I handled it. Did I go to far with pulling out the DEATH card? Maybe. God used my flawed efforts anyway. The boys were so joyful as they got ready for bed. Neither boy even cared that they had lost the game (which is in itself a miraculous event). It was evident that they knew in their hearts that they had won.

And that’s alright with me! Jesus is just alright with me. Sing it Doobie Brothers!

Jesus is just alright with me, Jesus is just alright, oh yeah
Jesus is just alright with me, Jesus is just alright
I don’t care what they may say
I don’t care what they may do
I don’t care what they may say
Jesus is just alright, oh yeah
Jesus is just alright

First Merits

Posted on February 10, 2009 by lisabeech

WORTH

Function: noun
Date: before 12th century
1 a: monetary value <farmhouse and lands of little worth>
b: the equivalent of a specified amount or figure <a dollar’s worth of gas>
2: the value of something measured by its qualities or by the esteem in which it is held <a literary heritage of great worth>
3 a: moral or personal value <trying to teach human worth>
b: merit , excellence <a field in which we have proved our worth>
4: wealth , riches

By what standard is a person’s worth measured? Seriously. Look around you. What do people value? What qualities do most desire?

A stable income with benefits and perks.
Someone significant with whom to share ourselves and our dreams – to build a life together.
A family that works together and plays together.
Children who are successful and have attained a favorable status within the community.
Deep friendships that carry us through the dark times and give a purpose beyond ourselves.
Awesome looks and a buff body – far beyond the firmness of youth.
A home – finely decorated and spacious – the envy of family reunions.
Lofty degrees – followed by professional accomplishment.
Adventure and excitement – exotic vacations and thrilling experiences.

This list could continue ad nauseam.

Now as believers, often we dismiss these as values of the world – the desires of those who do not have a relationship with Christ. But I wonder, are we truly being honest with ourselves. Am I? Don’t we all struggle with the “things of this world?”

It is as if I have some sort of internal gauge that subconsciously measures my worth. My worth as a person is measured on performance. I rate my worth effortlessly. It just happens – like breathing.

As a mother of four sons, who has recently entered middle age, I have allowed myself several concessions. I acknowledge that I will never be the wasp-waist girl of my 20′s. Years of cycling and weight lifting has worn my joints. The creaking in my joints advise me not to continue the tissue wearing exercise of my youth. (Regrets, yes some. I really enjoyed working out daily – I need to find some less damaging exercises.)

I have conceded, and then embraced, that my job is to stay at home with my children and to look after my family’s interests. Furthering my education is not in my future. I have closed that chapter in my life. (This is particularly sad for me as I just love studying and enjoy working. I love to get outside of this house and “just do it.”) I guess a bachelor’s degree will have to suffice. The exhilarating climb up the professional ladder is not a height I will attain.

As a result of these decisions, I probably will not earn an income that will support my family. (So much to contributing to the financial security of my family.) No one will lust after my dwelling. My only hope is that they do not mock what I warmly call home. (Why I care if people make fun of my house – I still can’t quite figure.)

These values have long since been removed from my personal list of merits. Yet, I still cling to several others. I deeply desire to succeed as a wife, a mother and a friend – and yes as a servant of the Lord. These are what I struggle – wrestle – contend with – almost daily.

I look at my children. They are so amazing. What a gift and a mighty responsibility the Lord has entrusted to me – (and my husband too). They are the delight of my soul. And yet, they are also the ache in my heart – the kink in my neck – the bitter bile in my gut. I am at a loss – I flounder and do not know what to do. I know what I desire to do and I understand my natural tendencies – but still I am lost. How do I attain excellence as a mother?

God entrusts you with these free thinking creatures who you just fall in love with – even before you get to hold them in your arms. As a mother, you are given the honor of feeling them stir within you. A child moves about and wakens a place in your heart you never knew existed. This is such a great treasure and a mighty responsibility.

I feel the weight of that great burden on my shoulders. At times I am crushed by the enormity of it – at other times it is as if I cannot breathe. My tendency is to react – to plan – to devise – to manage – to monitor – to attempt – to correct. In the end, I usually end up fluttering around like some sort of deranged hen. I function. I deal. I handle. I mediate. But do I enjoy and laugh and revel in joy? Do I rejoice in who my sons are? Am I present? What is the purpose of all this activity? Who the hell do I think that I am?

So then, I am paralyzed. Thoughts race through my head.

“Do nothing.”

“Sit at the feet of the Lord.”

“Be still and know that I am God.”

“Let him who has ears, let him hear.”

“Draw near to the Lord and He will draw near to you.”

In college I lived in a ministry house. A girl named Louise lived there too. She was always so preoccupied with keeping everything in order. Clean up. Do the dishes. Vacuum the house. … You get the picture.

I would laugh at her in my mind, “Just look at the little Martha.” I would congratulate myself on being like Mary and not busying myself with such worldly matters. “Such a waste of my time,” I would smirk inwardly. “Look at her fret over such mundane things – I am sitting at the feet of Jesus – studying his word and reveling in the relationships around me. Too bad for Louise. I am living the abundant life!”

I acknowledge that my perception of my roommate was by no means accurate or fair, but I think I was on to something then … something I seem to have forgotten in my personal efforts to gain merit and to succeed. In truth I have lost sight of several things.

First, people are important. Enjoying people and letting people know that you enjoy them is key to healthy relationships. I am not saying that I should have been such a sanguine, untidy disaster by neglecting my household responsibilities. It seems that I did understand something about valuing people and the times that you share. As a mother – I can lose sight of this. I forget to enjoy my sons and to express warmth and acceptance towards them. Some how I am always on patrol – seeking violations and implementing corrections.

Second, don’t sweat the little things. I get so agitated when things are out of order. Who gives crap if flour is all over the kitchen and contact paper is stuck all over the wood floors. What is important is that people felt loved and that a good time was had by all. Conversations have a way of just happening while people are having a fun. The mood is relaxed – so too are the people. This way mom interrogations are not the only verbal interactions.

Third, spend some time with Jesus. Sit at his feet. Lean on him and allow him to carry your load. This can happen several ways.

Spend time in the word. Just read it – get a feel for what was going on. Do this before you get out the commentaries and exegete the passage.
Even before you read the passage, pray – invite the Spirit to give you supernatural insight. He will.
Share your struggle with a brother or sister in Christ. Share you burden and enjoy the relationship. God has equipped your friend with a very special gift that may benefit you.

Merits. Just how do we assess our worth? Is it by the world’s standards? Or is our worth determine by what Christ has done, who He is, and who he says that we are as his fellow brothers and sisters?

“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing.” Revelations 5:12

First Merits

Posted on February 10, 2009 by lisabeech

WORTH

Function: noun
Date: before 12th century
1 a: monetary value <farmhouse and lands of little worth>
b: the equivalent of a specified amount or figure <a dollar’s worth of gas>
2: the value of something measured by its qualities or by the esteem in which it is held <a literary heritage of great worth>
3 a: moral or personal value <trying to teach human worth>
b: merit , excellence <a field in which we have proved our worth>
4: wealth , riches

By what standard is a person’s worth measured? Seriously. Look around you. What do people value? What qualities do most desire?

A stable income with benefits and perks.
Someone significant with whom to share ourselves and our dreams – to build a life together.
A family that works together and plays together.
Children who are successful and have attained a favorable status within the community.
Deep friendships that carry us through the dark times and give a purpose beyond ourselves.
Awesome looks and a buff body – far beyond the firmness of youth.
A home – finely decorated and spacious – the envy of family reunions.
Lofty degrees – followed by professional accomplishment.
Adventure and excitement – exotic vacations and thrilling experiences.

This list could continue ad nauseam.

So then, I am paralyzed. Thoughts race through my head.

“Do nothing.”

“Sit at the feet of the Lord.”

“Be still and know that I am God.”

“Let him who has ears, let him hear.”

“Draw near to the Lord and He will draw near to you.”

Third, spend some time with Jesus. Sit at his feet. Lean on him and allow him to carry your load. This can happen several ways.

Spend time in the word. Just read it – get a feel for what was going on. Do this before you get out the commentaries and exegete the passage.
Even before you read the passage, pray – invite the Spirit to give you supernatural insight. He will.
Share your struggle with a brother or sister in Christ. Share you burden and enjoy the relationship. God has equipped your friend with a very special gift that may benefit you.

“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing.” Revelations 5:12

The good, the bad and the ugly

Posted on January 15, 2009 by lisabeech

December is gone. Can’t say that I really miss it. I was sick for more than half of the month. It seemed as if I accomplished very little and relationally I felt totally disconnected.

The Christmas season is always full of turmoil and chaos – a bitter reminder of the fallen state of this world – a testimonial to the total malfunction of my family. The days shorten and the nights lengthen almost seeming endless. How I detest the long winter nights. How I long for a glimmer of light – a beacon of hope.

Though most years the Christmas season brings me little comfort and joy, this December was different. This time it brought the good, the bad and the ugly.

The Ugly

My attitude should top the list of what was truly repugnant during this season. Once I got sick, all I wanted to do was throw in the towel, so to speak. I really didn’t want to go shopping for presents; I didn’t want to decorate the house or bake the traditional confectionaries for which my children were clamoring. I especially did not want to make special holiday dinners with all the preparation and cleaning that such meals require. As for being hospitable, I missed the mark. All I longed to do was to sit by the fire, gaze into its glorious light and bask in glowing warmth.

The Christmas tree incident gets top-billing as the most loathsome. Steve and Evan go out to purchase our tree. Knowing that I love blue spruce trees, they go out and select a spruce that they think I would like. Instead of being gracious and pleased with their efforts, I scowl that the tree is not tall enough. The worst part is that I knew I was wrong – I knew I was being irrational – I just could not stop myself from behaving in such an infantile manner. Now that is just plain ugly.

The Bad

Circumstances were unfavorable. I was in poor health. Even though I had been reaching out to my mother for months – no years, little progress had been made in restoring our relationship to our former closeness.

I had planned on writing my brothers Rob and Den – Michael too. I failed at doing this. This flu had lingered and I was emotionally and physically spent. I felt myself fighting the urge to hibernate and go “tribal.”

I felt my heart had indeed become as hard and unyielding – ruthless as that of the character Angel-eyes. My plans to intrude into their lives slipped away – a book my brother and I would read a children sits in my locker, unwrapped – evidence of plans never set in motion. Failure – it just feels so bad.

The Good

Not all of December was a loss. There were actually some wonderful blessings that came out of that month. Some were planned, others were gracious gifts from God. I was totally undeserving. God is good.

I had been hoping to invite my family to the children’s program at our Central Teaching. Those plans seems unattainable due to our facilities upheaval. Then, a gala was planned and a venue was found. God allowed me to work with the kids and with the amazing parents of the OASIS kids to put together a little children’s program. Once again this body of Christ blew me away with their generosity and love.

My mother attended the gala. My heart was truly filled with the joy of hope and possibilities. Not only did she attend but Melissa and Michelle were able to attend. Michelle even came to one of our Home Church meetings. What joy God allowed me to partake.

The sweetest part of the holidays was the potential that I have to rebuild my relationship with my brother Michael. We got to talking about the crazy rifts in relationships in our family. Michael and I agreed that we may not be able to do anything – yet – about the state of our ties to our other brothers – but we are able to work on our relationship.

Sweeter still is that Michael is receptive to checking out our fellowship. I have prayed for my bro for years – and now during the darkest month of the year – a brilliant light shines forth. The light of possible redemption.

So, January is a month of endings and of beginnings. December came to an end – bringing to a close the sorrows and tumult. December also ended with potential beginnings – the start of a renewed relationship and the hope of new life.

Indeed, God is good.

The good, the bad and the ugly

Posted on January 15, 2009 by lisabeech

December is gone. Can’t say that I really miss it. I was sick for more than half of the month. It seemed as if I accomplished very little and relationally I felt totally disconnected.

Though most years the Christmas season brings me little comfort and joy, this December was different. This time it brought the good, the bad and the ugly.