Chasing the Lure

Last weekend found us with an away-from-home-hang-out-with-extended-family escape opportunity.  I was not overly excited.  My idea of an ideal long holiday weekend involves mainly sleeping in, staying in my pajamas, scrapbooking in front of the TV, getting some work done on my computer and catching up on the constant to-do list; it does not involve packing up a family of 6, paying to board the dog, making nice with the relatives and trying to “make memories” in a remote location without internet or even reliable cell phone access.

Shame on me.

I did end up getting some extra sleep.  I did end up getting some offline work done.  I was sort of social (not a strong point for me obviously).  I even skim-reread through an entire book.  And most of all, we made plenty of good (painless) memories.

We all went out the first day trying to see who could catch the most fish, with the ultimate goal of eating them for supper.  I was doing pretty darn well with about 15 to my credit, until I got cold and hungry and went in for lunch.  The ones in charge of the fun filleting job stayed out.  And unbelievably, so did Emily, who had only caught a couple of fish up to that point.

She stayed.  And stayed.  And didn’t come back in until almost evening, when the men came trooping in victorious with an ice chest full of filet pieces from somewhere around 100 fish.  And incredibly, 28 of those were hers.

So, yeah.  We had about 30 people lined up with their plates and we had us a FISH FRY that night!

But then the next day, after many of the family went home, we took our kids back out to fish for fun.  It was a wonderful, sunny day.  And I took my camera.

The race to catch the most was still there, but it was kind of hard to keep up with it in the end.

Hannah got involved as the “fish releaser”.  The kids would reel the fish in, yell for Hannah, get the fish off the hook and pass it to her waiting little hands.  She would creep cautiously toward the edge of the water and with a flourish toss the fish back in with the giddy words “GO HOME!”

Since we were sharing rods, I only threw enough casts to make a token catch, just to say I did.

Emily caught another dozen, including the largest catch of the weekend.

Tyler leapfrogged around Emily in a vain attempt to catch the most by getting to the choicest spots first.

Lauren pouted at being the last one of the crew to snag her first fish, and then decided to turn her attitude around by playing “fishy kissy face”.

Aunt Lizzie finally caught her fair share, although I almost dissolved into too many giggles to capture the photo at the sight of her first-catch “minnow”.

Wes went from one child to the next, changing lures, retracting stubborn hooks, offering encouragement, and even making a few casts when time allowed.

It was a really good weekend.

Left to my own desires, I would have chased the wrong lure last weekend.  Not necessarily a bad one, but maybe just not the best one.  I still love a good weekend at home and always will.  But I’m really glad that for last weekend at least, we had a catch worth remembering.

Loving Like God

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 ESV

I have made the comment before that I don’t even really know what love is.  What I mean by that, is what we are taught by the world to believe love is based on the fleeting feelings, wind-swept romance, and heart-shaped cards is so empty and disappointing compared to what love is supposed to really be.

Love is patient and kind.

I say I love, but I am always saying “hurry up”.  I am always saying “I can’t believe you did that wrong again”.  I am always using unkind words to shame others into change.  My love is typically neither patient nor kind.

Love does not envy or boast.

I see “in love” couples, the kind that are so sickening because it is obvious they truly adore one another, and on the outside I scoff while on the inside I deeply covet.  I try to play up my own strengths so I seem more worthy of love.  My love can be both envious and boastful.

Love is not arrogant or rude.

I pull out the rude and arrogant card when I’m too insecure to admit I’m not always right, or don’t always have it all together, or that someone else has played more honorably than me.  My love is certainly capable of rude arrogance.

Love does not insist on its own way.

I may do things your way, but secretly I will be convinced that my way would have been better.  As far as it rests with me, my way is best.

Love is not irritable or resentful.

I am always irritated by something, usually the little no-see-um things that pile up in a swarm around my heart.  And while I may have forgotten the details or the moment that caused strife, the resentment coats around my insides like tar.

Love does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.

I am guilty of wrongdoing every time I drink of the bitter water of the ideal of worldly love.  The truth is that God never intended that kind of love be the standard we set our lives to.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

I can bear a burden and endure a hardship, but asking me to do that while maintaining belief and hope is a different thing altogether.  My love does not look like a marathon, but a series of gasping, winded sprints that ends up heaving on the sidelines.

And yet, for all of that, there is still hope.

If we love one another, God remains in us and His love is perfected in us. This is how we know that we remain in Him and He in us: He has given assurance to us from His Spirit. And we have seen and we testify that the Father has sent His Son as the world’s Savior. Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God—God remains in him and he in God. And we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and the one who remains in love remains in God, and God remains in him. In this, love is perfected with us so that we may have confidence in the day of judgment, for we are as He is in this world. There is no fear in love; instead, perfect love drives out fear, because fear involves punishment. So the one who fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because He first loved us. 1 John 4:12-21 (Holman Christian)

I may fall short of the mark with my love for others, but I have a shining example to follow.  God loves me with a perfect love, and because God is in me, I can love others in the same manner.  There is no reason to fear, no cause to doubt, and no need to hold my love to the expectations of the world.

Love believes.  Love hopes.  Love endures.

I want to learn to love like God.

Date Nights

We’ve been having weekly Date Nights at our house the past month…but not the husband and wife kind (maybe that can be a goal for 2013??).  Wes and I talked about many things we wanted to change in 2012, and one of those things was increased one-on-one time between him and the kids.  So I went to our over-used yet accommodating Google calendar and booked Tuesday nights from January until May.  Tyler-night.  Emily-night.  Lauren-night.  Hannah-night. Skip-a-Tuesday-because-it’s-Valentine’s-day-and-that’s-my-night.  Tyler-night again.   Etc. 

We have been through one rotation so far, with three more sets to go before the end of May and summer starts, and it’s been a really good thing.  Tyler’s night set the stage.  (Of course, they don’t call his “date night”; it’s “hanging-out time”.  Obviously.)  Tyler chose to go out to eat with Dad and then come back home and lock the door to his room.  What they did in there, I really don’t know or want to know…but I think it had something to do with a war game on the PS3 and Star Wars Clone Wars on DVD and ultimately some sleep too at some point.

During the following weeks, Emily, Lauren and Hannah simply followed suit.  They picked their favorite place to eat, maybe ran an errand while they were out, and then came home and dragged Dad to their room for gaming/movies and bed.  Now the flip side of this little arrangement is I get the other girls in MY room for the night…but I don’t cook supper on Tuesdays, opting instead for do-your-own free-for-all, and having the evening to work or goof off or whatever I want to do without husbandly censure.  (It’s usually work, hence the censure, or lack of, on Tuesdays).

So we are all pretty much happy.  Except maybe Wes, bleary from staying up late and sleeping in strange beds every week.  But I suppose that’s a small price to pay for the adoration of three lovely ladies and the respect of one handsome young man who will one day grow up enveloped in the fullness of love and self-worth that is so necessary for healthy relationships down the road.

Yep, even when it’s not for me, I’m a fan of date night.

In His Time

What do people really get for all their hard work? I have seen the burden God has placed on us all.  Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. Ecclesiastes 3:9-11 NLT

It is a well-known fact that I struggle with Time. Not having enough Time, not prioritizing my Time, spending enough quality Time, not wasting my Time, enjoying my Time and what will come in Time…just to name a few. I think about Time so much my ears will probably sprout hands and start circling my face.

So what do I really get for all of my hard work? What do you get? Salary? Appreciation? Satisfaction?  If I think long and hard enough about it, I fear I will err toward Solomon and declare everything to be completely meaningless. But yet.

God has made everything beautiful for its own time.

As long as I am trying to use my time in a way that is glorifying to Him (even folding laundry), it is beautiful. Yes, beautiful socks with stained bottoms and holes in the toes.   I cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from week to week much less in a lifetime (or beyond). I fold the clothes, I find the worn socks, I go to the store and replace them, I put brand-new clean socks on someone’s bed…and they feel loved. Taken care of. My job as a mother or wife has been filled for that day.

And my Time was made beautiful.

When I was a girl, I sang with my parents. My dad would arrange old-fashioned Southern Gospel songs to fit our three voices. We practiced for hours, and then traveled to small local country churches and sang for them. We had a pretty decent repertoire from my recollection, but the song that remains with me the most is the one called “In His Time”.

I remember it the best because I hated it the most.

It was hard to sing because I didn’t have the breath as a youngster to hold out the phrases the way my parents wanted me to. It was slow and boring and long, which made me yawn, and then I got in trouble for not trying. The soundtrack was, well…laughable. And I didn’t really get the point of the words anyway.

But now I do.

Who knows if there was anyone in one of those country churches who was touched by our ministry? Who knows if there is anyone that remembers in the furthest reaches of their memory a family with mother and daughter in hideously matching homemade dresses that came to sing? Who knows the impact of anything we do at any age in life makes?

Well, God does. And all things are made known in His time.

And even if I’m the only one to whom it matters, that’s ok too. Because God has used that song to help me focus my thoughts on Time. His Time. His beautiful Time just for me. So enjoy folding your socks if that is what it is time for you to do today. And while you are at it, I hope you enjoy strolling with me down memory lane and hearing my sweet little reverb voice and what it represents as much as I do.

In His Time - The Cross Family