Declaration of Dependence

Declaration of Dependence

This morning, TD announced, “I’m going to dress myself!” Armed with a few key reminders (“Tag in back,” etc.), he did just that, lickety split. Now, this shouldn’t be a big deal. By this age, the other little people were sewing their own clothes, not just putting them on—okay, not really, but close. They all had at least one younger sibling to share their spotlight; they were little helpers and leaders—“knee babies” as Grandma called them, who had to move out of the way. But TD is everybody’s baby, and he works the roomful of eight mamas and papas willing and able to cater to his every whim. My constant prayer is that we don’t let our precious fruit spoil on the vine, but I’m starting to notice some overripe spots, right behind the ears he doesn’t wash himself. The blessing and the curse? He’s the last. The last I breastfed. The last to get a first tooth. The last first steps we witnessed. The last to learn to read. We all cling—and yes, I more than most—because we won’t get these “firsts” again. We delay their arrival and departure as much as possible, even to our own detriment. Sure, it makes more work, but it also keeps him…well, a baby. So, call us Dr. and Mrs. Frankenstein. Meet our cute little monster. But as I watched TD struggle to put his right foot through the right leg of his shorts, I took heart: he’s still my baby; he still needs me. And that won’t ever change, if my own Mama is any example. Even with a husband and my...
July 3, 2017

July 3, 2017

  Why do you spend money for what is not bread, And your wages for what does not satisfy? Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good, And let your soul delight itself in abundance. (Isaiah 55:2) We’ve been ripping and running the past few weeks, and we’ve skipped a lot of things. Sadly, eating hasn’t been one of them. No matter how far we roamed, our stomachs insisted on going with us. Cooking and kitchen cleanup on vacation? Ain’t nobody got time for that! Eating out every meal? Ain’t nobody got money for that either. Ouch…but oh, those Duck Donuts were good. Our comings and goings also impacted our worship. We’ve done devotions standing up, tuned into sermons in the car, abbreviated Sunday school, missed Bible study, and sprinkled prayers over folks as they’ve run out the door. We didn’t dive as deeply as I like, but we kept our toes in the water. I suppose that’s the greatest blessing in this technological age that drives me crazy with all the accessibility it creates: Have Jesus, will travel. Yesterday felt like a “Throwback Sunday.” It was the first in a bit that we sat down and ate and worshipped together, even though it was a missing man formation. And really, I can’t remember when I last had fried bologna with my grits. Talk about memories of sitting around mama’s table–memories that were tastier than than the crab cakes, asparagus, and saffron jasmine rice I enjoyed with Hubby over the weekend. No, that bologna wasn’t the fanciest or the healthiest or the prettiest on camera, but it did my heart good. The sermon also gave my heart a...
Truth in Advertising

Truth in Advertising

With all the filters folks use on their photos these days, you really can’t believe everything you see. But no matter how you or I look at it, I’m a vertically challenged black woman. All I have to do is ask myself: “Can I reach the ketchup on the top shelf?” The resounding “No” isn’t good or bad. It just is. But if I think less of myself because I can pick only low-hanging fruit, that’s something else altogether. That thought involves judgement, and experts would say it reflects a poor body image. Body image. That phrase rears its ugly, self-centered head in our house quite often. For instance, once Maven wouldn’t wear a sleeveless outfit because her arms are too toned. Too toned, my ten-year-old gymnast and track star. Songbird won’t leave the house without earrings, as if they’re the feather that keeps her aloft. I’ve been to the grocery store in pjs, but I’d never go without my lip gloss. Go figure. Even our boys spend precious time picking out their curls or working on their six-pack, and Hubby wonders whether growing a beard makes him look debonair or elderly. The world says this is all part of having a healthy self-image, but for believers, a “healthy self-image” is an oxymoron, ranking up there with “self-empowerment” and “self-seeking.” These words point you in the wrong direction, putting the focus on the man in the mirror rather than the Man on the cross. But is it really that big a deal? Yes! A thing’s image isn’t its essence. It’s not real. Appearance isn’t everything. It’s not even the real thing....
June 4, 2017

June 4, 2017

Chocolate chips. Blueberries. And now, honey butter, the latest addition to our waffle recipe. This morning we learned if you just stir in a smidge of honey to softened or melted butter and smear it across your hot waffle, you’ll be in…okay, not heaven, but transported to a comfy seat at our table, right beside a very satisfied Maven. While the batter sizzled we talked about Proverbs 4, focusing on verse 7: “Wisdom is the principal thing; Therefore get wisdom. And in all your getting, get understanding.” That’s an important reminder to us, in our scramble for college degrees, paychecks, publishing contracts, healthy food, friends, peace, exercise routines, sleep, recognition, or even just a Krispy Kreme doughnut to call my own. In all our getting, get understanding. Get Jesus. Jesus—one of the four “main characters” at the feeding of the five thousand. The others were the disciples, the crowd, and the boy with “five barley loaves and two small fish.” (John 6:9) Today, in his message at Central Church of God, Dr. Paul Conn helped us picture ourselves there in this Bible story by asking, “Who are you?” Do you overstep into your Father’s role, taking responsibility for sowing the seed, watering the seed, growing the seed, and reaping the final harvest? Are you one of the crowd, hungry for a Word, in need of a healing, searching for a miracle or just a crust of bread? Perhaps you’re an obedient disciple, anxious to protect your King, ready to obey, grateful to sit at His feet and spread His message. Or you might be “the lad,” holding something precious and willingly giving it up, seeing it multiplied and...
May 28, 2017

May 28, 2017

We suffered a casualty in the breakfast wars this morning: one of my favorite orange dishes bit the dust. Personally, I thought it was a high price to pay for sausage and cheese balls; it was part of a set that was gifted to me. But I held back the tears, angry words, and hugged the guilty party who was feeling (almost) as miserable as I. Before the “crash,” we talked about the meaning of this Memorial Day weekend and the life application of these passages: “You were bought with a price; do not become slaves of men.” (1Corinthians 7:23) “Therefore if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed.” (John 8:36) The little people listed some of the liberties they enjoy—freedom of speech and the press; the right to educate, live, and travel how and where they want; the opportunities to worship in a church or right here at home. We appreciate and remember all those who died to ensure those freedoms. Most of all, we are grateful to Jesus for dying on the cross, to God who gave up His only Son and Who resurrected Him on the third day, and for the gift of the Holy Spirit Who ever abides. Our sermon continued our holiday observance. Today, Pastor Livingston spoke on Romans 8:28-33: And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. Moreover whom He predestined, these He also...
Game Changers

Game Changers

You know those scenes in movies with the large family all gathered together with a board game, laughing, teasing each other, playing stuff like Pictionary where there’s lots of ribbing and shouting and just good old fun? Okay, picture that same board game, but take out the laughter, and add a little blood, some sweat and a copious amount of tears. Insert arguing, keep the teasing, put an edge on the laughter, and delete the fun. Now you’ve got Family Game Night at our house. We love each other, no doubt. We study together, cook together, and agree on selections for Family Movie Night. Some days we’re around each other 24/7. We take family road trips, read books aloud, play piano duets, root for the same teams (sometimes), and generally believe in “We all go down with the ship.” But when it goes to Family Game Night…I feel like casting lots, hopping on the Ark with the winners, and praying for the folks left ashore. My little people are just a competitive bunch. They believe in playing by the rules, and board games just bring out all the warts in all of…well, I’ll say “them” and not “us” because I try to take the high road (emphasis on try). Yet, no amount of refereeing, shh-shing, and redirecting helps; when we whip out Taboo, Pay Day, charades, Be Sincere, Qwirkle, and other group games, sparks fly. Rule enforcers become rule benders. Peacemakers turn into peace breakers. I can roll dice with Think Tank in Acey-Deucy or place Blokus tiles with Hubby and Crusader; Songbird and Maven will laugh over Apples to Apples and...