Slight Inperfection

I meander through the aisles of a favorite thrift shop, just looking at all the once loved or used items that crowd each shelf. I'm watching for a pretty tea cup, or Collector's Edition of a Holly Hobbie plate. I have a rule that the item has to be under $3.00, or I walk away. Not often easy.

I stop at the end of an aisle, when I spot two china cups. One is a sunshiny yellow, and the other, is a heart-fluttering robin egg blue. I turn them over and notice they are in my price-range, and I sigh, happily.

 

I'll never know if the original owner of these cups, chose the china patterns before her marriage, or maybe they were a wedding gift, from her Mother and Father. Perhaps she saved for years, and bought them to add to her collection of dishes to use when special people came to dine, or when it was a fancy occasion....I'll never know.

Did she wrap and pack them gently, so she could move across the nation from Kansas or Oklahoma, as my Great Grandmother's did?

What I do know is that they have been well used. I can see the wear and tear on these wares, and that is what I am most attracted to-their story. It took me a few years to realize that while I am captivated by the colors; the flowers; the dainty feel and look of a tea cup, I'm most drawn to the awareness that someone once used and enjoyed these gorgeous dishes, and there is a hidden story in each one.

I'm not often very attracted to a brand-new cup. Silly, I know.

I carefully placed these cups in my cart, next to the canning jars I found for a bargain, and make my way to the check-out.

The cashier lifts the saucer to the blue cup and says, "Ma'am, are you aware this one is chipped? Do you really want it?"

I reply with "Yes" to both questions, and he continues to scan items.

He then lifts the yellow cup and saucer and says, "This set is perfect, and beautiful!"

I feel my heart grab, and I hear the lesson....immediately!
 

We all come in different shapes and sizes. We all come in different colors. We all come from different places, such as these cups; one being from England, the other from Ohio.

We may be asked to come to the big table for fancy occasions, or maybe a small table for a intimate tea party.

Most of us have chips in our pottery, scrapes in our paint, or cracks in our handles.

Some of us are still very useful, and some having been useful for years, are too fragile now to be called upon to serve, and are asked to sit with their loveliness, in a china cupboard.

We are all beautiful.
We are all imperfect.

Perfection isn't an indicator of Beauty. Imperfection does not deem us useless.
It means we have lived and loved well.

We will find beauty, in each other's scrapes, cracks, and chips...our histories of imperfection, if we are willing to show grace, there.

I can look past the worn-out areas in you, and see you for who you really are.

Maybe you are sturdy, dependable, or maybe you shine in your elegance. You may be flowery and colorful, or plain and simple. You might even come with curves around your broken edges.

It's your wear and tear that indicates how loved you are, and how often you have served as you were created to do... that's true beauty.

Where some may look and only see cracks and slight imperfections, God looks through eyes of redemption and says, "I have a purpose for this beautiful one!"

 

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."

Ecclesiastes 3:11

The Authentic Mother

As a child I watched her bend her knees and weep into the old chair, time after time, morning upon morning. She usually did it early, before we crawled out of our beds. But I could still hear her. There were always tears, and I worried. I didn't like to hear her cry.
Countless mornings turned into years; her weeping into that chair...pouring out the contents of her heart to The One who stores our tears in bottles. His daily record-keeping of what caused those tears to run down to begin with...those tears from a not-so-perfect woman, who had learned through life, and lessons, and pain, how to daily surrender .

I don't remember how old I was, when I realized how consistently she prayed for me.

I do remember how old I was when I became a mother.

Being a mom has been amazing and facinating, and absolutely the most grueling experience of my life. I like to believe that I've always grasped the enormity of this relationship with the three who are mine, but I've also devoted many years to trying to become THE PERFECT MOTHER, falling flat on my face...yet into His grace.

For too long I played the games of comparison, trying to measure up to that perfect Proverb's Woman, and to the other moms on the block, or in the pews. I gathered what I saw, made judgement about what I didn't see....and swore to be better...much better!

I dressed the children in matching things; curled hair around my finger every Sunday, and prompted them to smile...always smile...so those looking on, would remark at the finery. Scolding them if their actions didn't match the perfect little life I had to have, but failing miserably to manufacture.

Then came the revelation of my futile attempts. The fall was painful, the wounds deep. My heart broken at who I had become. Then the friend who gently said, "Just be authentic...that's what they need."

Authentic? 

I began to examine that word and found out it's meaning:

"Not false or copied; genuine: having the origin supported by unquestionable evidence."
I wept at those words.
Had I died at that moment, what would my children believe my origin to be? What would the unquestionable evidence say about who I was, but more importantly Who I was not living for?

I had been worshipping at the feet of perfectionism...and not at the foot of the cross!

With heart-pounding repentance, I asked for a second chance, and I found redemption.

I do remember how old I was, when I realized that all of those early morning prayers that had been prayed for me, where coming from a flawed woman, who had also become a woman, redeemed.

Her unquestionable evidence had supported her Origin. In her brokeness, at the foot of the Cross, she was living out authentic...real.

The 1000 Moms Project

It's In the Living

The music of life is wafting through my mind and heart, as I enjoy a rare few hours this morning...not needing to be here or there; or dashing out the door to again to meet the demands that seem to constantly pull.
Just this day, as I drove away from the bus stop, blowing kisses to the sweet eleven year old nose pressed against the bus window, I had such a deep thought...here it is: "Hmmm....life!"
The strains of my life often sound like a chaotic mess, until I remember as Patsy Clairmont said last weekend, "Life is messy!"
The dawning of that deep truth, rings loud and resounding on my heart today. Yes, life is messy, but I've been called to live this day, chosen for this generation...yet never alone. My dependence is on the One leading me as I go in, and through, and around...life.
Not all is messy. Sometimes I do have a really organized hour or two....Ha! I have learned to keep things simple, and forgive much, mostly myself.
Walking, I see the signs of life all around. Some of them are in the messy, some are organized...yet all are the tellings of life fully lived in The Taylor Home.
When I think about what is true, it's not in the perfectly wrapped life that I find joy. I find joy in watching my first girl struggle with the big things in life, and then decide she will fully commit to serving her Father God in a bold way! I don't find trust in never having to face hard things. I discover He Who is trustworthy when life gets too hard to stand! I find love and forgiveness in the embrace of my man, when I've been anything but lovely. I find hope in His Word, that He who began a good work in me, will see me all the way to completion!
If you would like, you can follow along with me, as I take a little walk around. I'm looking closely for life...in everything. In no particular order, here is what I discovered:

 Life always involves changes...and yes, death. But come Spring, hope blooms new!

The growth of life, showing up in the planting, the tending...the harvest.

Life can be found in the mundane tasks and chores...that when put into perspective, might be viewed differently, by simply changing my attitude.

Because we have more than enough, we give thanks!

I found life on my son's dresser! His life is about football, school-work, hunting, music, and cash. He's so busy living his life to the full!

This is one of life's biggest choices. Will she choose Olivet Nazarene University in the Midwest, or will she stay home and go local? God knows, and we trust!

When you are eleven, life is full of dreams!! (I don't know where I dropped all of mine.) I just know that He Who has grand plans for her, will never leave her, or forsake her.

 Life is in the messes. This proves that we have lived this week....we just haven't gotten everything in their rightful places. Notice all the shoes are Nikki's and mine...yep, this is our life!

Life can be found in the written word. Suggestions and directions for walking closer to our Creator; ideas for a holiday table; recipes for making the best pancake....life!

Life abundant in His Word. I am lost without it!

We might have to look more closely to find life in the seemingly deadest of places. A spider web among the hard rocks...there's life!

Life and love flows from the Leader of our home, as he seeks God on a daily basis.

We live, therefore we must do laundry!

We are at our best, when what we are doing is not for us, or others, but as an act of worship to God. Yes....you can find life through worship at a sink full of suds!

Life happens....Garage doors have to be repaired, cavities have to be filled, and it takes gas to drive our cars. It's life! Thank you, God!

"I have come that they may have life; life abundant!"

John 10:10

This Is My Song

I am (still) reading Ann Voscamp's book--One Thousand Gifts.

It is taking me months to read this book, and I am just fine with that. It took me over a month to process chapter 6, and rightfully so...I may have to sit on chapter 8 for a few months.

Side Note: When I grow up, I want to speak as poetically as Ann. What a gift!

Back to what this is teaching me:
I long to live my life for God.
I've lived 38 years on this globe as unto other people, but all the more tragic--as unto myself. The tragedy is this--living as unto Sheila, my husband, these children, my church, friends, work...although my intentions are right, my human-ness is so terribly human. This causes me deep frustration! As hard I as try, I make monumental mistakes, and I fail. I do my best, but if I'm only doing it to find the instant gratification, it will have a fleeting joy. I find zero contentment there. I run back over and over again wishing for someone, anyone to say, "Great job, Sheila, on getting all 8 loads of laundry done today !" ....and it isn't there...joy, that is. When the praise does come, the applause is nice, but it seems to fall short in filling my vessel to overflowing. Quite the contrary in fact. I've once again come to a dry place, carrying an empty vessel. Something is missing?

"Whenever man is made the center of things, he becomes the storm-center of trouble. The moment you think of serving people, you begin to have a notion that other people owe you something for your pains....You will begin to bargain for reward, to angle for applause." (Dorothy Sayers)

Ann writes, and I quote, "When the laundry is for the dozen arms of children or the the dozen legs, it's true, I think I'm due some appreciation. So comes a storm of trouble and lightning strikes joy. But when Christ is at the center, when dishes, laundry, work, is a song of thanks to Him, joy rains. Passionately serving Christ alone makes us the loving servant to all. When the eyes of the heart focus on God, and the hands on always washing the feet of Jesus alone---the bones, they sing joy, and the work returns to it's purest state: Eucharisteo (Thanksgiving). The work becomes worship, a liturgy of thankfulness."

"The work we do is only our love for Jesus in action. If we pray the work...if we do it to Jesus, if we do it for Jesus, if we do it with Jesus...that is what makes us content." (Mother Theresa)

That is what makes me content.
That is what makes me content.
That is what is missing...contentment.

Contented, deep joy is always in the touching of Christ---in whatever skin He comes to us in.

So this is my song of worship, to Him...

This is the astonishing truth, that while I serve Christ, it is He who serves me.

"Feed the hungry, and help those in trouble. Then your light will shine out from the darkness and the darkness around you will be as bright as the noon. The LORD will guide you continually, giving you water when you are dry and restoring your strength. You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever-flowing spring.

Isaiah 58: 10-11

Spring Cometh!

As I long to celebrate the arrival of Spring, I do so, while being down in bed with Pneumonia. I find myself feeling cranky and teary, as cough incessantly through lungs that are sick and full. I don't like this...it hurts, and I am tired. I read how the duration of my affliction, can be weeks...even a couple months at best. That makes me more 'growly'.

As I grumble, I am quickly reminded of all the times I have been sick before, and have recovered. Or the times, those whom I love, have fought illness, and found healing. I am reminded of God's faithfulness....over and over again.

Yet, I find myself faint of heart...my strength and resolve are weak.

Do I doubt His faithfulness this time? No

Do I wonder if He is actively working His healing on my sick body? No

Do I know that He still sees me, and calls me His Beloved? Yes!

So, then can I celebrate His care, His watchful eye...His gifts? Yes!

I can celebrate Life...overflowing with Joy!
I can celebrate Healing, that is on it's way!
I can celebrate Thoughtfulness, coming from those who care for us!
I can celebrate Abundance! All our needs-supplied!
I can celebrate the Spirit of Christ...active; alive in my heart, no matter the condition of my body!

I'm surprised at how joyful I actually can be! So, this illness is but a bump in the road...my journey is much bigger than one crazy little bump. I'm going to be just fine!

And by the time I feel better, I can go out and enjoy this season of seeds, dirt, and fresh air!