Happily Occupied

Hello Friends :)

This little love has been keeping me happily occupied for the past several weeks. Each time I log on to catch up on my blogging, I'm pulled away. Ashanti belongs to our dear friend, Valerie, who is working hard at remaining in our beautiful country. We are helping her by caring for her daughter almost full time. Please pray for all of us. Hope you are all well as I've missed perusing the blogosphere. Happy Fall!

This Longest of Winters

She tosses black oil sunflower seeds out over her snowy yard from the porch and in seconds, feathered ones from every direction flutter in for their free lunch. I watch from the window and I know that even though this little ritual cheers her heart, this longest of winters is taking it's toll on her. My mom's injuries from the accident have continued to grip her like a thick icicle that won't let go. The surgeon says she won't get well unless she has  invasive surgery that will perhaps put her out for a year. There are other complications to it as well, and so she waits and prays and tries to decide what to do. In the meantime, she does her best to walk the icy roads for exercize, drive with trepidation, and clean her home in stages, as not to incur too much pain. 

 

A good, full winter with its extreme cold and mounds of snow is normally her favourite. My mom prays for snow and her grandchildren are reminded of her when they hear the song, "Let It Snow". But this time, the relentless harshness of the season has been discouraging. And so, we feed birds, take photos and thank the Lord for how He cares for us like He provides for them. She smiles, watches carefully and exclaims when the cardinals return. They didn't come all summer and now she has a splash of red in her dark winter--the cardinals, saved for such a time as this longest of seasons. Hope flies in and God whispers that He sees her in that little chair, gazing out the window into the bleakness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More about her accident here.

Life Is A Vapour

It's still a mystery what happened during the accident. We've been at the hospital for several hours per day since Friday evening when we were told my mom had flipped her car and hit a pole--on the other side of the road. She has no recollection of it and the police report has not been seen by any of us yet. As a family, we are praising the Lord for the life of an amazing woman who was given more time with us.

When we arrived in the ER, we barely recognized our mom's face and we three sisters broke down. She broke her nose, fractured vertebrae in her neck, burst her L3 and L4 (they are now saying, possibly her ribs). She tore the inside of her arm open from elbow to knuckles and they spent hours in surgery cleaning grass, glass and dirt from it and repairing tendons and nerves. She is stitched in several places. She's in a lot of pain and I'm asking for prayer. I believe the Lord will heal completely and we're thankful there are no life-threatening injuries.

Exodus 15:26b "for I am the Lord who heals you."

Under A Moonlit Sky

It was her final competition and so my mom came with us to stay at a hotel in this far away land (of Collingwood :). We marked a trail near the place we were lodging with the tracks of a scooter, our footprints, and that thing that always happens to two or more of us on a hike far from bathrooms. Sigh. However, it was a lovely little walk before an early morning of ballet.

Placing first again, we praised God for the opportunity for our daughter to excel in an area she loves. (It's prohibited to take photos during a competition so I don't have any!). Packing up the hairpins and tutu, we meandered back to the hotel so that her little spectators could enjoy a swim. Blessings in abundance.

What Breaks The Heart Of God...

He sits behind the glass in bright orange coveralls, holding the black phone to his ear. He's smiling at us but behind his smile are a thousand thoughts and with only twenty allowed minutes, he's itching to get them all out. My mom listens and I watch his moustached mouth moving incessantly. She's whispering a word now and then to keep me part of the conversation. He shifts his weight on the stool and begins gesturing with his hand. He's telling her all about his dog. He's asking her to retrieve the little Jack Russel Terrier from his apartment building superintendent and take care of her until he's out. He misses her terribly and Mom passes the phone to me so he can brag about all the tricks he's taught her. I listen, nodding and smiling. Rosie fetches his glasses, plays dead, can balance a ball on her nose. There's adoration in his voice and I think about what makes a man who's so sensitive and gentle, punch someone in the face.

It's not the first time he's been in here and it's all anger related. But there's a teddy bear deep inside and I am angry at the enemy for prowling in his territory, for taking advantage of a vulnerable and sad little boy, a boy whose mother left him. Now, close to fifty, he doesn't know how to let go of this lifestyle. I hand the phone back to my mom as they work out details and street names. I quickly glance to the left and right at the other inmates--faces also desperate to make time slow for the connection they've been waiting for all week. One visiting woman is crying and just staring through the glass at her loved one. Another brings her baby and holds the pudgy bundle up to the window. Is that Daddy?

I'm snapped back from my thoughts as Mom hands me the phone. Do I have anything I want to say? All I can manage is, "We'll be praying for you." I know it's what he needs more than anything and he drops his head in gratitude. Our time is up and the phone line is cut off. He and Mom, being closer in relationship, hug themselves and point to each other, loving through the barrier. We stand and wave. He's not leaving until we walk away, like catching one last sight of hope on the other side--a picture to carry with him of two people who cared enough to remember him today. I smile one last time and turn toward the locked door.  

I had reluctantly come to "visit those in prison" as it is written in Matthew 25. This afternoon was to be company for my mom. I had felt I didn't have time to come but my husband had said I "needed to go", that we all need to experience this. He was right. The atmosphere of this place is humbling. How different am I from this unfortunate man? I too, am a sinner dealing with anger but I can hide it a lot better than he can. Does that make me more righteous in the eyes of a Holy God? Do I break His heart when I do what I know I shouldn't? Mom and I stroll through long corridors and return to the entrance of Maplehurst Prison, pick up our belongings and return our locker key. I speak the Holy Spirit's peace to our friend because His Spirit is resident in me, so I can. I open my heart to God moving me through this experience today. I want to see life through Jesus' eyes. I want to go where He wants me to go, without reluctance. I want to praise Him for the grace that allows me to wake each morning in my own home, regardless of my sin. I want that which breaks His heart, to break mine.

Christian Women And Beauty

(Mama and her girls)



She finishes painting my last toe and we continue talking as she motions for me to lie down on her cozy, pillowed aesthetics table. She begins to apply warm wax to my eyebrows while I recall an experience I had earlier. As I share, she erupts with genuine, belly laughter and I try not to, just in case I mess up the wax on my face. 

I come to visit Rebecca because she has become my friend and she is a Christian, but I wrestle with being a spa-go-er. I tell her I'm "low-maintenance" and that she probably won't be seeing me here for awhile since I don't "keep up" with my beauty treatments on a regular basis. She asks why and I stand dumb-founded with partial Scriptures running through my mind about not adorning the body and focusing on "self", etc., etc. But at the moment, standing there with my friend, they don't seem to be adequate. Rebecca uses her aesthetics business as a ministry and prays over and for each client, boldy proclaiming Christ. There is no doubt that God has called her to her little practice for such a time as this, for the women who frequent her spa. But, if she is called to minister to women through beauty treatments, "what makes it wrong for Christians to receive those beauty treatments?" Rebecca appeals to me. "My non-Christian clients will pay double the money to come here than my Christian clients. I don't understand. What makes it wrong for a woman to take care of herself?"

We hug goodbye and I make my way to my car, cautiously stepping over stones in the parking lot, as not to smudge my nail-polished toes peeking out of flip-flops. I'm left to think about why I, as well some other Christian women I know, feel we don't deserve? need? desire? should? take care of our bodies in a way that makes them beautiful. Barring the cost of aesthetics, what are other reasons why Christian women wouldn't have ugly old skin removed from their feet, or their faces cleared of impurities? If a woman is not into coloured fingernails, what would be so wrong about having her nails cleaned up and protected with a good clear coat? As Rebecca mentioned, money is not an object for many of her Christian clients so she desires to have a defined answer for why "God's Girls" can't look beautiful, clean and well taken care of. Aren't we His temple? Would the world want to join the "family" when so many of us are unconcerned with how we're being viewed? Of course, inner beauty is of utmost importance, and outer beauty shouldn't be an idol, but how are we Christian women coming across to the world? How does it appear that God is taking care of His women? These questions loll through my mind as I turn up the street to my home. I know that I have just a bit of the attitude that Rebecca is talking about. 

I curl up in a favourite chair with some popcorn and begin to think hard. I remember lying on my tummy as a little girl, on my mom's bed, chin resting in my palms as I watched her getting ready for a date with my dad. I was mesmerized by how she applied her make-up just so, and how she curled her hair with that butane curling iron that didn't need a plug. She wore a criss-crossy, wrap-around, floral dress that was very flattering and lovely to me. She sprayed herself with perfume and I knew that when I grew up, I was going to make myself gorgeous for my husband too. On Sundays, my mom would adorn my sisters' and my braids with satin ribbons and she would paint our nails once in awhile. On Saturday nights, she would wrap and clip sponge rollers in our hair and we'd sleep ever so stiffly, as not to pull out our precious curlers before morning. She often dressed us alike and everywhere we went, people commented on how cute we looked. We felt so feminine when my mom spent time showing us what to do with our long locks or dirty-from-playing fingernails.

Everyone knew my mom was a godly woman and they told her often that she took such good care of her girls. To my knowledge, no one thought she had put too much effort into herself or us but instead, they appreciated the loveliness of her outward beauty, as well as her true, inward, love and concern for people. At a time in our lives when our finances were not an issue, my mom would make regular manicure and hair appointments. My dad liked it that way.

So what happened in my mind? Somehow, at some point in my life, I began to believe a Christian woman should not spend money to take care of her personal self, at least by a professional. I say that this is a belief, because I actually do get my hair cut and my husband loves to gift me with the odd manicure or pedicure. But I had convinced myself I was visiting the spa in support of my friend rather than doing something to beautify myself. Rebecca's question plagued me and I began to pray and ask the Lord what His thoughts on the matter were.

Before I continue, I'd like to hear your voice on the matter... and so would Rebecca. What do you think? If money were no object, would beauty treatments be a part of your weekly/monthly/yearly regimen? For those who already visit aestheticians, what are your reasons? As a woman who loves to be in bare feet year round, get very few haircuts, rarely go to the mall, and (gasp) let my brows grow in, I began to take pride in how "low-maintenance" I was. But was I just not caring about myself? Was my lack of care reflective of my inward thoughts of myself? What message was I sending my daughters?  Hmmm.

Please share, even if you haven't before :)

 

To read Part Two of Christian Women and Beauty click here.

Gratitude... because it's Monday and because every subject can be used for thanks :)

831. for non-judgmental friends

832. how God cares about providing answers when we ask genuinely

833. discovering new things about ourselves

834. an aesthetician who provides services for free because she says she wants to bless me

835. differences in women and no matter what the outcome of the above question, we will remain beautifully different.

One Thousand Gifts

With much gratitude, I praise God for my beautiful mother, who has always lifted me up when I was down, prayed me through tough times, inspired me to strive to be all that God has purposed for me, and affectionately loved me. May the Lord bless you abundantly, Mom, as you celebrate your birthday. (#445 of thankfulness toward 1000 Gifts... click here to count along with me and many others.)

446. for a Papa who plays

447. for little twin nephews who are lovable and energetic

448. for the fact that these boys were born in the same year as my son

449. for an inspiring, adorable sister and brother-in-law, who teach us what marriage is all about

450. for an impromptu family photo that my husband requested (!) since we were all in our Sunday clothes

451. for a daughter who always sees what can be done and does it (raking here)

452. for a boy who is amused by the simplest of things

453. for fall clothing, especially patterned knee socks and tights

454. for wrestling cousins


455. for a girl who loves her Daddy

Colossians 3:16 Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God.

Licks And Love

My Mom loves to give and give and give some more. She bought the kids ice cream today and loved watching them lick them like crazy.

"Mommy, do you even have to take my picture in the ice cream store?"

Yes, I do, actually. It's my job to record the details of your life. I can just hear you ten years from now saying how cute you are in that little dress! Yes, I must always take your picture.

Treasuring our Mama-Love