by Robin | Feb 24, 2018 | Uncategorized |
We have less money than we used to. Some days, I’m just glad to flip the switch and get a rewarding burst of light. Sorry, Oprah, I know you said everybody should visit New Zealand in her lifetime, but seeing the kiwi bird will have to wait. Not only that, we have less time and energy because we sleep less. It’s not because we’re having more fun; actually, we watch less television, read fewer books, walk fewer miles, vacation less, and spend less time together as a couple. We probably have fewer acquaintances based on the smaller pile of Christmas cards we opened last year, and I talk to my mama less often than I should. Why? Because of all the more in my life. We have more little peeps who insist on eating regularly, having fun, and going to college of all things. We have more house to clean, more blogs to write, more teaching and preaching to do, and more food to cook. Don’t even talk about the dog whose favorite treat is bacon. We have more schedules to consolidate, more places to go, more needs to meet, more “yeses” and “nos” to dole out, more ways to serve. Simply put, we have more Jesus. So the “less” is actually more. The less I have of the world—money, energy, time, answers, myself—the more I really have of God. He just has more wiggle room in my heart and mind, and as He stretches out to His full height He kicks out what I don’t need. The less I listen to the clamor and whispers of distracting influences, the...
by Robin | Feb 14, 2018 | Faith and Family, My Daily Grace |
Inspired by a lesson from our week’s Bible study, we all took Sharpies and wrote in our palms: The Lord’s. To say I need the reminder is an understatement. You’d think I had other things scribbled there in the middle of my hand, however invisibly—The Bank’s, The House’s, The Children’s, The Husband’s, The Worry’s, Mine. And they don’t easily fade from red to pink like those six letters. They seem indelibly etched into my heart and mind, these cares of the world. They carry serious weight. Sure, some look like holy pursuits. Take my family. God gave me Hubby and the little people, so isn’t it okay to lose sleep, time, and even myself in them? Teaching them, raising them, loving them—they’re each a full-time job. Yet my palm attests, “For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb.” (Psalm 139:13) They’re not mine, for we are all His. It’s fruitless and prideful to focus on my limitations as a mother and wife in the face of His unlimited love and power. I should seek His plans for their life. Then there’s my writing, what I see as my ministry. Shouldn’t I give it my all—well, all that’s left, mind you—by pursuing publication, encouraging others, spreading His Word? Yet, the letters on my hand tell me, “For there is not a word on my tongue, But behold, O Lord, You know it altogether.” (Psalm 139:4) This is His gift. I am His instrument. Worrying won’t get an agent’s attention; fasting and prayer will get His. God knows it all and gives me my all and all. All I can do is write...
by Robin | Jan 25, 2018 | Writing, My Daily Grace |
During literature today, the little people looked up a few unfamiliar words. When Think Tank typed tilth, his autocorrect feature kept trying to change it to tilts. Maven chuckled at the pronunciation of puissant, while Think Tank wondered if we could call God “omnipuissant.” Funny guy. We like to read aloud. They enjoy hearing and “seeing” great literature come to life. We discuss a writer’s intentions and the direction of a storyline, debate about what counts or doesn’t count as classic literature, and relate themes and plot lines to the Bible and current events. It’s also helpful listening to the little people’s pronunciation from time to time, checking out how they wield their language swords. Mini-wordsmiths all, they still can mispronounce the dickens out of what I’ve considered simple vocabulary; I’ve learned there’s nothing simple about the queen’s English. As Crusader showed me years ago, misled is not MY-zled. Ah, the power of language. Thing is, we don’t have to get all fancy when we’re talking to God. We don’t have to call Him “Elohim” when we pray to our Abba Father. It doesn’t matter what language we use when we cry out, “Help!” “Save me!” “Here I am, Lord!” or just plain cry. Often, my silent obedience is all I have to offer, or a hand in the air—and not because I just don’t care. I do care…too much. My church mothers knew what they were talking about when they sang, “When I can’t say a word, I’ll just wave my hand.” So, wave your hands. Weep silently. Don’t worry about publishing your thoughts for various and sundry....
by Robin | Jan 22, 2018 | Faith and Family, Feeding the Family |
I hate drinking water. I don’t know why that is. I will walk around thirsty all day, in and out of the kitchen, but I won’t pour myself one glass. I’ll even share my thermos with TD (believe it or not) without taking a sip myself. Not so with my little people. They drink gallons daily; we’re constantly refilling the pitcher. And not only do they guzzle water, they consume every bit of juice, tea, milk, or soda we have in the house. Me? I will nurse my coffee until it’s time to take my meds before bed. Java makes my world go ’round. And that leads me to the woman at the well, the subject of our Sunday school lesson. John 4:1-30 describes how Jesus quenched her thirst—not the kind that you satisfy at the kitchen sink, but the soul-deep need that only the Savior can fulfill. He met that need, and she shared her news, leading others to run and learn about that living water. We should be running, too, sharing “the one thing we know,” what Pastor Livingston taught in church. That one thing is Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. This is Who and What the blind man professed when Jesus healed Him (John 9). The sermon reminded us to look beyond what we see and feel, to be encouraged, healed, and filled by the Living Word that lives within us, just as Paul said in 2 Corinthians 4:16-18: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for...
by Robin | Dec 26, 2017 | My Daily Grace |
Brown Sugar is mourning Christmas. So is Songbird. Last night she pointed out that we had 365 more days until Christmas 2018. December 26 is her least favorite day, even more than the day after her birthday. Just like the rest of us, Songbird and Brown Sugar love all the anticipation and events leading up to Christmas, all the baking, buying, carols, and lights, the late nights watching holiday movies and the sleeping in during vacation. Ah, the Christmas spirit. But we believers still have His Christmas Spirit; for us, it’s always the night before Christmas. And not just today while we recuperate from our turkey-, candied yams-, and key lime pie-induced coma; trip over new toys; and laze around the house enjoying the tree. For us, every day is Christmas Eve, but now we’re looking for Him to come…back. We still call Him “Wonderful, Counselor, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace”—and not because of prophecy but because of reality. We yet celebrate Jesus’ birth, His sacrificial gift, and the gift of the Holy Spirit in our life. His kingdom is eternal. (Isaiah 9:6, 7) So, Merry Day After Christmas! And guess what? I’m still accepting presents. “For unto us a Child is born, Unto us a Son is given; And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 7 Of the increase of His government and peace There will be no end, Upon the throne of David and over His kingdom, To order it and establish it with judgment and justice From that time forward, even forever. The zeal of the Lord of...
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