the toenail An Important Part Of The Whole

My middle son, who is the ripe old age of thirteen right now, shared with me yesterday his favorite book in the Bible – Leviticus.  He specifically pointed out to me the scripture that talks about “the aged” (19:32).  He smiled at me and said, “Yeah, that’s about respect.  I like that a lot.”

Leviticus, huh?  Wow.  For him to say this is his favorite book may seem odd to people who don’t know him.  I mean, out of ALL the books, this one?  Any non-beleiver could have a field day in this book, given the generation in which it was written, extracting a few words, here and there without paying concern to the context in which it was written.  And it isn’t difficult for believers to get a little overwhelmed or confused by the passages within this book.  Knowing my son, though, I understand perfectly why this is his favorite book – it’s full of tangible rules, sort of.  You know:  “Do This”.  “Don’t Do This.”   Stuff like that.  My son is quite literal in his communication, and he reads, feels, and interprets in this way most all the time.  Believe me, this has lead to some interesting parent-teacher conferences before!

So now, knowing how intrigued my son is by the words in Leviticus, I’m sure some interesting discussions are coming up around the bend.  My in depth study begins, so that I can hopefully remain one step ahead when the questions come.  What a wonderful opportunity this is!

Back to that particular scripture, though – 19:32.  It is interesting that he singled this one out.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m GLAD it was this one, instead of the number of others he could have pointed out that may have caught me off guard, like any that include unlawful or immoral relations, for instance.  He’s a teenager, so I’ll not avoid these subjects, but I’m thankful he didn’t start with those.  Anyway,  doing the “self-taught analyzation” that I do so well (be sure to back up and read that again with the sarcastic tone I intended to imply), I began looking into our family life to see if there are any specific things that would make this particular verse so special to him.  Do we have elderly people in our lives?  Yes.  My mom, who has been undergoing chemotherapy for more than a year, has spent extended weeks of time with us during the course of treatment.  My dad doesn’t live to far away, and we really don’t see him nearly as often as we should.  There’s Ms. Dorothy who lives on the corner.  She’s a delight to speak to when we pass by.  I often have one of the boys run down to her house with a bag of cucumbers or a dish from our dinner.  There’s Ms. Mattie at church, among a number of other older people, who love to see our handsome young boys at church events and on Sunday mornings.  Pretty much all of the teachers have been older.  Oh, and there was Ms. Pat from the grocery store…

Wait a minute!  For a thirteen year old., most everyone outside of school friends meet the criteria of “aged”!

How wonderful to realize that my son is experiencing the joy of obedience.  In Leviticus, he received confirmation to what he already knew made his heart happy…..because it is pleasing to our Savior.  It’s that very thing that makes this his favorite book.  Joy in obedience.  It’s just beautiful.

This week, my oldest son (OS) is peddling himself happy in another country.  He’s spending 5 days cycling and camping – “A good way to see the countryside”, he says.  I don’t disagree.  At the end of his first day of travel, he called to fill me in on some details.  He said he started out a little later than he had hoped, but that he began his trek with prayer that went something like this:  “Lord, you know where I’d like to go today, but you also know that I am directionally challenged.  Please help guide me safely to my destination by nightfall.  Amen.”  Thirty minutes later, he came upon three cyclists who were taking a water break on the side of the bike path.  Noticing their maps, OS asked, “Where are you heading today?”  To his surprise and delight, they were going to the same destination!

As OS began to tell me about the rest of his day’s journey, I couldn’t move forward in the story with him.  Instead, I began to question:

ME:  Wait a minute!  So you just tagged along with these three strangers for the rest of the day?

OS:  Well, yeah.

ME:  !!! Did you get to know them?  I mean, talk to them?  Who were they?  (I was trying to hold down the scorn in my voice for his “talking to strangers in a strange land.  I know he’s a missionary – that’s a whole other blog).

OS:  We didn’t really have time to talk because we were riding…

ME:  (interrupting him) What!?  So you don’t even know who they are?

OS:  Mom, listen, it was okay.  They’re government employees.

ME:  Government employees?

OS:  Yeah.  One actually holds a pretty prominent position.  He’s the assistant to the president, or something like that.

ME:  !!! You mean [Mr. Jon Doe]?

OS:  YES!  That’s him!

ME:  Are you kidding me!?  You were bike riding with [Mr. Jon Doe], the Assistant to the President?!

OS:  Yeah, so anyway, we rode about 50 more miles….

ME:  (interrupting again) Hello?  Do you know how cool that is that you were with HIM?  Do you know how amazing that is?

OS:  Mom, YEAH, but let me tell you about the rest of the day.

ME:  Okay (in a voice that said, “well, okay, but it will have to be fancy to top that news”).

As OS began to tell me the details of the rest of his day, I still couldn’t get my head to hear much beyond what he had already told me.  Instead, I was thinking about the incredible circumstance that put him in the presence of such people.  So, I interrupted him, yet again:

ME:  Wait a minute – did you get his email address, or any way of keeping in touch with him?

OS:  No, mom, but it’s okay.  He doesn’t know my name, either.

OS eventually got to finish telling me about his first day’s travel.  He described the beautiful countryside, the gentleness of the townspeople he encountered, and the cheap dinner he had before setting up camp. Through it all, nothing seemed to minimize the fact of whom he had met and followed earlier in the day, in my eyes.  It wasn’t until the next morning, when reflecting on the conversation, that I realized something huge.  TREMENDOUS!  Really, really big.  I had missed the most true, wonderful gift of OS’s first day’s journey:  the blessing of his answered prayer.  The guidance from God.

PRAISE GOD for answered prayers!  What had OS started his day with?  Prayer.  Specific prayer.  And an answer, albeit decorated with a prominent name on what I’m sure was an incredibly loaded, aerodynamic road bike, was provided!  Our Savior had shown up in full-force to answer the prayers of my son.  “Ta-daaaaa!”  And I missed how incredible that was because I got caught up in the details.

How often do I overlook or give little emphasis to the Lord, when he blesses me in ways that I could easily recognize, if I would look upward from, instead of into, the details?

It’s so easy to get caught up in the daily rush, the stress of daily life – paying bills, making money to pay bills, ushering our children to school, grocery shopping, and on and on and on – it’s easy to become distracted or pre-occupied and miss all the blessings that are provided along our pathways.

Did I miss something?

Almost.  Thanks to our Heavenly Father and his guidance in my life, I didn’t, this time.  But I sure came close.  🙂

Listening to a Christian radio station today, I heard a (non)advertisement that went something like this:

“Hello.  My name is Jane Doe and I have been a Christian for 14 years….”

Hmmm.  I didn’t hear much beyond that, as I started thinking about the measurement of “being a Christian”.

I cannot nail down an exact moment when I would say I became a Christian.  I mean, you are or you are not is the argument here.  It’s either black or white, right?  Thing is, as my faith was developing earlier, and my trust in the Lord growing, I don’t recall any a-Ha moment when I crossed from the non-believer side to that of the believer.  I can, however, recall when I had a strong desire to grow in closeness to Him, and anxious to gain the knowledge that would bring me closer to Him.  It’s more of a time period, rather than a fine point moment.  Keep in mind that before this time period, though, I was a believer.  I talked to God, prayed, although it was mostly when I needed or wanted something.  So how long have I been a Christian?

During the time period when I noticed a strong desire to learn and grow in Christ, I did eventually talk with my pastor about it, and go before the church for Baptism and to become an on-record member.  Since that time, I have made steps forward and backwards in my relationship with Christ.  I’ve never turned from Him, but when I was younger, there were plenty of times when I faltered and did not make my Father proud.  Hallelujah for his mercy and patience with me!  Today, I still falter and I’m sure my Father is displeased at times, but I do this less than I did 17 years ago.  As my relationship has grown closer to Him, I no longer slip as easily and I’ve learned to ask Him before I act, most of the times.  How long have I been a Christian?

Only God knows the exact moment – but I’m okay relying on his record, which is surely the only truth.  God knows my heart, then and now, as He does in the future.  I am His creation.  Doesn’t matter how long I’ve been a Christian.  Only that I am.

Remember when you were younger and you’d get to see your cousins, aunts and uncles, or other extended family members who lived far away,  once a year or so, like at a family reunion?  Remember the excitement that would build the closer you got to actually seeing them?  Then, once you did see them, remember that excitement turning suddenly into an awkward shyness?  You know, the kind that leaves you wanting to smile and make eye contact but not wanting to smile and make eye contact at the same time?  Thank goodness that “I’m meeting you for the first time but not really” feeling  would wear off quickly so important things could happen – like hiking through the woods before we had to go eat the annual lunch of fried chicken and deviled eggs, or wading in the nearby creek, looking for crawdads under rocks.

The other day, our oldest son [OS] rang us up on Skype – the video conferencing tool that lets you “see” the person you are talking with over the computer.  I called for the family to come around the laptop, so we could talk to OS together.  The youngest son [YS] came rushing out of his bedroom.  My husband stopped what he was doing in the kitchen to join us in the den.  Even my mom came over to see OS, and talk with him.  But where was my middle son [MS]?  He was there, too, but hiding behind everyone else, peeking at the computer screen, smiling in that excited/shy way.

OS has been gone from here for a little more than 2 months.  At first, we got to talk with him regularly.  But now, we don’t get to hear from him as often.  Seeing MS, who was probably the first to come running to the computer, but now wanted to safely peek at his brother through the crowd, reminded me of this feeling. Distance does this.  Separation does this.  I had forgotten that feeling.

MS has had the luxury of being the younger brother and the older brother, and when OS left, the title of younger brother was taken from MS.  Now he is only the older brother, in our house.  That has to be hard for him, sometimes.  I think I will try to get OS to “spend some time” talking with MS soon.  By himself.  Some one-on-one time. They won’t be able to have a Nerf war or sit down and play XBox together, but I bet those funny feelings will go away just the same.  It’s the funny feelings, in this case, that will take a hike.

When I picked up our youngest son (YS) from school yesterday, he bounced to the car with his usual happy stride and wide smile.  This day, however, he greeted me with an outstretched hand, showing me a treasure he had found while waiting in the after-school car rider pick up line:

A HELICOPTER.

And this was not just your ordinary, run of the mill kind of pine tree helicopter, it was a much BIGGER helicopter than we usually see.

“Wow!  That’s a really big helicopter you found!”

YS:  “Yeah, isn’t it cool how God made things to travel around?!  I mean, he made this so that the wind could carry it where it needed to go, and he made things with hooks on them so they can latch on to other things and be carried where it needs to go.  I mean, isn’t it cool how he made them?”

“Yes, it is.  He really thought of everything, didn’t he?”

At this, YS sat back in his car seat with a satisfied grin on his face.

It’s such a beautiful thing to see even the simplest parts of our world unfolding in my son’s head – and to see him giving thanks and praise to the wonderful things God has designed.

It’s the weekend.  Saturday.  The youngest son (YS) is up at the crack of dawn.  His older brother & roommate, our middle son (MS), is still sleeping – a hard sleep, since he didn’t “go to sleep” until 5:50am.  The night before he had gone to a “Night of Prayer & Bible Study” at our church.  He got home around 12:30am, and immediately retreated to his room for some uninterrupted XBox 360 game play.  When nature woke me before day break this morning, I saw the silenced television images flashing in his darkened room.  Still awake.  Still playing a game.  So, today at 2pm, our MS was still sleeping.  Now you know why.

YS:  “Mom, you wanna see what I did in our room?”

“Yes, but be quiet.  [MS] needs to sleep longer.”

YS:  “I wrote [MS] a note on my easel, and put it in the doorway so he’ll see it when he gets up.”

“Oh, that is very nice!”

The note read:   DEAR [MS],

I AM SORRY FOR GITTING A ADITUDE ALL THE TIME
AND FOR ENOYING YOU ALL THE TIME.  DO YOU WANT
TO PLAY THE GAME WITH ME TODAY?  I LOVE YOU AND
I HOPE YOU WILL FORGIVE ME.

There is a five year age difference between our youngest two sons, and our MS is teetering on the tween/teen line, so he doesn’t always have the patience needed when dealing with our YS, who is an 8-year old.  And at the same time, our YS doesn’t always understand it when MS needs his quiet, his space.  As MS’s social calendar is beginning to take form, the weekends for him are not always about staying home and “playing” anymore.  He’s got an active schedule with the youth group at our church now that he’s a middle-schooler, and every other weekend he’s away from our home for visitation with his father.  Our YS is having to learn to deal with the feelings of not having his older brother’s dedicated attention all the time.  Last night when MS told YS that he was going to church, YS was not at all happy about that.  Apparently he made faces at his older brother, and picked up the footstool and threw it around the den in anger that his older brother was leaving.  I didn’t witness this, but instead, learned of it in the car ride to take MS to church.  When I returned home, I did not discuss it with YS, but instead, involved him in some outdoor gardening work that his dad and I were finishing up.  Distraction.  It’s a friend, sometimes.

After reading the sweet easel note that YS had composed and written for his older brother to see, my heart melted.

“YS, were you apologizing because of the way you acted toward your brother last night before he went to church?”

YS:  “Well, not just for that, but kind of for the way I’ve been annoying (enoying) him for the last 5-6 years.”

“Oh, you felt like you needed to say you were sorry, huh?”

YS:  “Yes.  I love him and I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“You know why you felt like you needed to write him that note?”

YS:  [shrugs]

“Did you have this little tugging, this feeling that you needed to do it because it was the right thing to do?”

YS:  [smiling] “Yes.”

His daddy:  “That’s because you have Jesus in your heart and you wanted to do the right thing.”

“You know how proud your daddy and I are because you did that?  There’s someone who’s even more happy than we are.  You know who that is?”

YS:  “Uh-huh.  Jesus and God.”

“That’s right!  You did something, and when you thought about it, you knew it wasn’t right and you needed to say you were sorry.  You were doing what Jesus would want you to do!  That’s what it means to obey Jesus.  We’re so proud of you.”

I am a mom.
I am a mom with three children.
All boys.
Each, 5 years apart from the other in age.

I don’t have to tell you the ins and outs of how busy my life can be – I joke about living in chaotic bliss, but really, it’s not a joke most days.  Routines are never routine, and oftentimes I feel that flying by the seat of our pants IS indeed our routine.  With this lifestyle, though, important things that need daily attention and devotion (no pun intended – that is foreshadowing) have no secure block of time in which to call their own.  Like prayer.

I’ve always been okay with this, especially in my growing closeness to our Savior.  I talk to our maker all the time.  ALL THE TIME.  Sometimes audibly.  Jesus is a close, personal friend of mine.   The defined lines of “prayer time” are cloudy and nondescript, as my calling out to him and sharing with him has no boundaries.  It might be while standing in the check out line at Wal-Mart, or while blow drying my hair in the mornings, or as I am stringing popcorn for our Christmas tree.  But as far as a set aside time to spend with him, I’ve not nailed that one down yet.  In my head, I have a time planned out, but my plans rarely, if ever, happen.  And notice that I said “talk to” him.  I’m trying to get better at that, too.  I need to be a better listener.  God is a great one.  And he’s never complained about our one-sided conversations.  But God does talk to me, and if I’m quiet and still, sometimes I hear his words so loud and with pristine clarity.

One of our treasured times together, with me listening, was in the car line at the elementary school where I wait for a very long time to pick up our youngest son after school.   It was October 2009 – a beautiful Monday afternoon.  Earlier, my work day had been very stressful.  The holidays were coming on like a lion, making the never-ending stress of finances seem even more vicious.  And our oldest son, who was a Senior in high school, had recently made the decision to go into foreign missions when he graduated.  He had begun the application process with an international Christian organization already.  All of these things were laying heavy and in the foreground of the quiet I found myself in while waiting in the car line.  That is when he spoke to me, and brought the comfort only the Savior can envelope me in.

“Let’s talk about your children.”

Me:  “Okay [laughing to myself]”

“Your youngest child is golden.  Pure.  Smart.  I know you struggle with his need for attention.  Do not let that distract you from the pure child that he is.”

“Your middle son is also smart, and not without his need for attention.  But remember, you cannot be disappointed by that which does not deceive you.”

“And your oldest.  I know you are worrying about him.  Please do not.  I am with him, just as I was with you at that age.”

Me: “Oh, right!  I know what I was like at sixteen…”

[He did not let me finish my thought, as he said:] “The difference is, he listens better than you did.”

And that was it.  That was the message.  The Savior had spoken directly to my heart, specifically about the things which are most important to me and of which troubled me most personally – my sixteen year old planning to leave – planning to go forward in God’s Army to who knows where, doing who knows what.  The boy didn’t even know how to wash his own clothes – back up – how to even pick his clothes up off the floor – and was thinking about leaving the next year to go to a foreign land.  Not college?  At least his friends going to college would be able to come home to wash clothes.  Not my son, not if he went into missions work overseas.  God spoke to my heart about the very thing that underneath all other thoughts, was the most worrisome for me, and in an instant, brought me a peace I didn’t know I could ever have.  “…he listens better than you did.”. This is true!  And only our Savior would know this, and be so eloquently simple in pointing out to me how strong his love is for my son – HIS son.

The message was less than a minute or two, but it has brought peace into my heart and allowed me to give my worries over to Him.

That was in October of 2009.  Today, my son has been out of the country for several months, working as a missionary in a foreign field.  I am able to enjoy this time, encourage my son, and know what a blessing it is to have the Savior’s watch over him.  God is always in control, and his plans are far greater than any we can orchestrate ourselves.  Freedom is knowing this, and understanding that God can help us through anything, with abundant love.

p.s.  AND…as my son was telling me via Skype ten days after leaving the country about washing his own clothes, I couldn’t help but smile and look toward the heavens with a wink.  He was doing it, own his own (but not really).  🙂

1 Peter 5:7

In Sunday School last week, our class leader closed with words that were chewy to me.  See, we had been talking about our spiritual gifts, things that God had given each of us.  Everyone has one you know – gifts of music, art, a love for teaching…..  Our class is primarily comprised of educators.  To have the patience and passion to teach elementary school aged children is definitely a gift.  I was not blessed with that one.  Others in our church are gifted with financial abilities – accountants, treasurers.  Some are gifted in the profession of physical healing and treatment – doctors, therapists.  We have some who love babies and spend hours keeping the nurseries.  We have others who are gifted mechanically, donating their time and skills to improving the church campus, building things.

I do not fit in any of the above categories.  But our Sunday School lesson was about “everybody having a gift they can use to witness to others in growing God’s Kingdom”.  We talked about how all these different gifts – skill sets – help us all make up the body of Christ.

Hmph.

The body?
As in parts of Christ?
Come on ,  you’ve heard that before.
“It takes five fingers to make a hand.”

I was left wondering, “what part, exactly, am I?”

I’m not an educator, and although I do enjoy coloring and have an eye for graphics, I am no artist.  I do not have the patience to rock babies for a morning or afternoon of church services.  I’m not a doctor.  Not a lawyer.  Not an accountant.

Certainly all of THOSE gifted persons make up the elite parts of the body.

I work a regular, hourly-paid office job.  I spend my time away from work checking elementary grade homework and enforcing reading minutes.  Cooking dinner.  Washing clothes.  For fun, I read.  Play Scrabble.  Write.

I came to the conclusion that I must be something like the toenail of the body of Christ.  A small, insignificant part.  Barely noticeable.

Those were my thoughts.  But I wasn’t allowed to dwell on this long before God revealed my importance.

He reminded me of a time when my big toenail was ripped off.  Ooooooo.    I was barefoot, moving furniture around in my young son’s bedroom when that Little Tykes toybox slid across the top of my foot.   Losing a toenail from a big toe is not a temporary handicap.  It took months – MONTHS – for the toenail to heal.  That little thing was the most painful injury I had ever experienced.  I couldn’t wear a regular shoe for weeks.  Every time I stepped on that foot, I felt the injury – for months!  When I wasn’t on my feet, I felt the injury throbbing, begging for my attention.

Yes, the toenail is an important part of our whole.  Do not underestimate the value of it.  Often overlooked, with little attention, in it’s absence, you become keenly aware of it’s importance.

I am proud to be the toenail in the body of Christ.  And I realize now that my place is no less and no more important than all the other wonderful, unique parts of the body.  Together, we make one very cool whole.

Now I’m praying about how I can use my very unique gifts to build His Kingdom.  My eye for the unusual, for color, for plumb lines.  My enthusiasm for word games and reading.  My desire to share His glory and grace with others.  I know that I am a useful part of The Body of Christ.

And now, you know the rest of the story behind the toenail.
What’s your place in the body of Christ?

1 Corinthians 12:12-31