“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given…” Isaiah 9:6
As we celebrate this season of the birth of the savior, the fulfillment of God’s promise, look to your own life and see what the LORD has done. Relish in the promises fulfilled and the gifts given to you. Savor this story with the eyes of the Wise Men!
I’m not much of a numbers person. Numbers and Math, they aren’t my best. One need only ask Scott Martin about such a deficit to realize, no I’m more of a craft, history, English person.
I have a friend who is a number fanatic of sorts. She loves them, looks for patterns in them. The numbers that surround her, they mean something. She will read them like I read words woven together with intention to form a sentence. I read the same numbers and they mean little to me. Despite my number hesitations, the fact that the King made me a promise and then kept that promise on the 7th day of the month that typically encapsulates His New Year has never escaped me. Seven is His Number.
Long ago He promised a barren woman she would be given a child if she only obeyed what He was imploring her to do. She hadn’t heard His voice many times so she was hesitant to obey, but obey she did. On Ten Seven she gave birth to a Seven Ten son. For many months She was confused, the barren woman acted out of obedience and had indeed had a child as she was promised but the barren woman could not understand why the child was a boy. She was convinced the child would be a beautiful peaceful girl, yet held in her arms was a cranky, have to lay on top of him to change a diaper, won’t sleep in a bed, didn’t talk ’til he was 4 years old son.
The Barren Woman didn’t know much but she knew the King’s Word could be trusted so she headed there for some answers. There she found that every time the King gave a baby to those Barren Women of old who had cried out to Him, as she had, he answered her with a boy. A unique boy destined for great things that The King himself had prepared early on for him. The Barren Woman took comfort in that and learned to love that “ninja-like-stealth escapee with mad non-food eating skills and cantankerous nature” well. Eventually he gained a voice, learned to use the restroom, and became a creative and unique child.
Over time she had learned a few things, there has never been nor will there ever be one quite like that promised boy. He is quick-witted and has a sense of humor that is a delightful combination of his Mama and Daddy. He loves with a love that never sees color or race. He is blind to differences, and the hatred of another based on the outward appearance boggles his mind. He loves Jesus and loves Him for reasons most adult people have yet to understand. His favorite attribute of God is that “He is.” He worships in a way unique to himself.
I used to be a tad disgruntled over the Promised Boy and the quirky things that make him unique. Yet over time and after much pondering and prayer, I am so thankful to be His Mama, to be the very front line witness of miracle after miracle where he is concerned.
A while back we ventured to a friend’s house for an impromptu chili and hotdog supper. My friend, when asked what we could bring said, “Food for the boy, ’cause he don’t like chili or hotdogs.” I giggled as I read that text. She knows him, loves him, and understands him. She isn’t offended that he doesn’t care for chili and wouldn’t have taken it personally if I’d’ve busted up to her house with a sack full of sub-par cheeseburgers for him. She had purchased a cake for dessert, and upon the realization that it was the Boy’s 13th birthday eve, she rummaged through her junk drawer until she found 13 mismatched partially used birthday candles to place atop the once just dessert cake turned Birthday Cake. His face, when he surveyed the pink princess candles with stars on top was priceless.
If we were legit Jewish, the following day we would have had a bar mitzvah, a day of celebration and blessing, the crossing from boyhood to manhood. I am beginning to understand why that number 13 birthday is so important.
As he slept and had yet to witness the as per usual birthday kitchen decoration and cake for breakfast, I reflected on what the King did some 13 years ago, and I am amazed that I got to be his mama. I’m excited to see what the next 13 years hold for that child of promise. My prayer for that boy is this one, “May the Lord Bless you and keep you, may His face shine upon you. May you be all that God desires you to be.”
When our children were about 7 and 5 years old, God began to stir my heart to have another child. My husband couldn’t understand this and I will never forget him saying, “We have a girl and a boy, what else could you want?” When I realized he was not going to be a pushover in this area, I became what many of us wives become when we don’t get our way – a nagging, whiny, selfish woman – like the woman that Proverbs 21 talks about – “It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop, than with a contentious woman in a wide house.” I began to back my husband into a corner, trying to play God. He in turn was not swayed by any of my whiny, manipulative ways! Our home, my heart, during that time was anything but peaceful.
Through this time in my life I learned what God’s peace really is. How it demonstrated itself inside of me was life-changing. It is a PEACE that passes all human understanding. It is a PEACE that is possible regardless of circumstances (in us OR around us). It is a PEACE that dispels all negativity. It is a PEACE that comes to those who ask for it and believe. It is a PEACE that produces a rest within us. It is a PEACE that triumphs over fear and anxiety. It is a PEACE that proclaims God’s power and God’s presence.
read over 90% of the whole Bible. Nine-tenths! Ninety percent of God’s word full of love and wisdom, peace, history, and instruction. You are a different person now than you were 10 1/2 months ago. I know this because Isaiah 55:11 tells us, “M
When you sit down with the Scriptures, pen in hand, if you only read and don’t think or take notes or pray, you won’t get as much out of it. Recently, I have picked up the habit of listening to the scripture as I read it visually. I use the Bible Gateway app on my phone. When you click on the menu icon at the top left you get a drop down menu that has “Audio Bible” as an option. It allows you to choose the version you want to listen to, the Bible book and chapter, and the person reading it aloud. I use Max McLean who has a great voice that helps you hear the meaning.
Pauline could make the best spaghetti sauce. There was nothing like it. It has simply been known in our family as “The Sauce.” It contained potatoes and a beef roast. Meatballs that were the size of my 6 year old fist, laden with cheese and green onions, celery and bread crumbs – they were a marvelous delicacy. A perfect balance of savory and sweet, the perfect consistency, the sauce covered every spaghetti noodle with perfection.
ground, I found myself bombarded with requests to “Push me! Make me go high like a rocket ship!” One particular client kept turning back in his swing, when he would turn his body to look at me and command me to push higher, his swing would go all wibbly -wobbly and slow him down. We would have to regroup and start over. He quickly became frustrated when he would look around and realize that his cohorts were all rocket ship high and much faster than he was. I kept trying to get him to understand that looking back was what was ultimately slowing him down.
How God must delight in weaving his little masterpieces together in the womb. He says he knows us before we are formed. In all of his wonderful creativity, he knits together the most precious gifts to give to us as newborn babies. Master craftsman, if you will, when you think of all the splendor of creation.
God sent the sweetness of Heaven in the form of a baby, His Son, to ultimately be our savior. “God incarnate in the form of helpless babe.” He sends the sweetness of heaven in the form of babies – our own children, our grandbabies, and nieces and nephews. Sweet little babies.
We made a list, set the timer, and dove in to the mess. When the timer went off we were shocked! The house looked remarkably clean and neat. It would have taken me at least 4 or 5 hours to do by myself all that we had accomplished together. Granted the mirrors were only wiped 3/4’s of the way up by the kids who were too short. And the wash cloths were folded, but not in perfect squares. Even the beds were made, although the comforter corners may have not been perfectly aligned. The dishes, laundry, floors, and bathrooms had been appropriately washed, folded, swept, mopped, and cleaned. It seemed as if we got more done than we thought we could have before we started. It was amazing!
Why do you think service groups, ministries, and volunteer organizations are always asking for volunteers? To lighten the load. Whether it is the Salvation Army, Red Cross, an inner city tutoring program, or a church ministry, your small contribution may not seem like much to you. “Surely my 1 hour a week doesn’t even make a difference?” you may say. But when my one hour adds up with your one hour and my college student’s hour and your best friend’s hour who decided to go with you and the couple-from-the-other-side-of-town’s hour, we end up with 6 hours of productive work instead of just one.
I continued to attend several Methodist and Baptist churches in the Birmingham area, but I never felt at home. I wanted a church that the pastor teaches from the Bible and not just their opinions. One of my favorite verses in college was “Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” (Romans 12:2 NLT) Unfortunately, I did make some bad decisions that did affect me later in life.
My Child
Health
As I set the pump to go, placed the nozzle in the gas receptacle in my van and began to pump, I leaned my weary back against the van and watched the numbers steadily move upwards. It had been a long day and even just a few minutes of peace propped against my van were welcome. Immediately the solidarity of my prop began to waver. Indicative of the wiggly occupants, my van gave way to the force inside.
When I was little the “Be still” would often come when I was in church, it would be commanded as I received a hearty pinch on my shoulder from the church pew behind me. I recently learned that horses respond to pressure and release. In a sense I was the horse, Mama the horse trainer. That pressure on my shoulder was my signal to be still. To be quiet. To cease doing whatever it was I was doing. Evidently, horses are better learners than I because I still struggle with this one.
from Piggly Wiggly.”)
Priceless 