Planted on the ROCK

 My favorite platter crashes to the ground and smashes into a zillion tiny pieces. My daughter's attempt at a "fancy" tea party has come to a sad end. Her face crumpled into the same zillion pieces and she begins to sob. I'm so sorry, mom. It was an accident. I didn't mean it. I just wanted to decorate the tea party fancy!. I swallow my disappointment and begin to pick up the pieces. Sweep up my frustrations into a little heap. I can't bear to dump those slivers of colored pottery in the garbage. I vow to use them in some kind of Pinterest-inspired craft project. While putting order to the mess, God brought to mind how my sins are like those tiny pieces scattered all over. Some of the larger broken bits could be my inflated pride, independence, and inability to wait patiently on the Giver of All Good Things. The smaller pieces are likened to petty gossip, physical laziness, and over sensitivity. And don't let me forget, gluttony. The Lord labeled e

 I watched across the table as my daughter became frustrated at losing game after game of Bingo.  Her mouth drew into a firm line, lips pressed together.  Her eyes were almost frantic as she waited for the number-letter combination to be called.  As another player excitedly shouts "Bingo!" she slams her fists on the table and begins to cry.  I, as discreetly as possible, escort her into another room intending to take her down a notch.  What silliness to get so upset about a silly ol' bingo game! As I march her away from the table, the Holy Spirit begins to whisper to my heart.  Treat her with gentleness.  Don't blow your top.  Just encourage her.  This is not normally my first response.  I tend to have high expectations for behavior and get frustrated when the kids don't respond exactly the way I would. Thankfully, it was a long march so I was able to actually listen to the Holy Spirit. Why are you so frustrated, daughter of mine? Everyone else is winning

 Her bright smile and exuberant personality rushed toward me with arms outstretched.  I braced myself for the inevitable hug. I am hugged every time she sees me coming and going.  I am hugged before and after a prayer.  I am hugged at the beginning and the end of meetings.  Her hugs surround me. The problem you ask? I am NOT a hugger.  I do not have a strong desire for physical touch.  My first thought is not to squeeze someone in love.  Nor is it my second thought.  It's not that my parents didn't lovingly embrace me as a child or that my husband is not attentive.  It's not that all my physical love is doled out to the kids during the day and I haven't any hugs left in reserve.  Outside of my immediate family, I am just not a touchy-feely kind of person. Is my discomfort with friendly hugs a result of keeping people at a distance?  Of controlling who and what I let get close to my heart?  Is it an attempt at protecting my ultra-sensitive feelings? Yes to all t

 November brings on a refreshing attitude of thankfulness.  People recognize the Lord in the smallest of places, among the spectacular and the everyday.  It's exciting to see exclamations of thankfulness over parents, spouses, children, veterans, and even the Internet.  Some are super sweet and others bring a tear to the eye.  Regardless of the actual object of thankfulness, our Provider, the Lord, is the origin of all things given.  He alone desires our praise and thanksgiving. Skip Thanksgiving?  My kids think it would be OK! I'm not sure of the atmosphere of your home but in mine, my children anxiously await the arrival of Halloween with its costumes and treats.  They want to skate through November and dive right into the revelry and celebration of Christ's birth.  They begin to circle their fifteen or twenty most favorite items in the toy catalog on November 1.  These kids have already begun to countdown the number of Sundays remaining on the calender until the da

McDonald's.  A plastic playground crawling in germs and swimming in carbs.  The originator of happiness in a cardboard box and plastic toys that are neatly placed in the circular file as soon as you hit the door. It's also the place I spent an hour on my knees completely relying on the Lord on Saturday. Let me back up. Our family is enjoying watching 5 year old soccer Saturday morning.  My hubby's phone rings and he answers it. "Mr. Carbajal?  This is Captain E calling from Alaska.  Your son, Jade, is in ICU." "Excuse me?  Who is this?  What did you say?" "Your son has some broken bones around his right eye.  He is in ICU and we are unaware of the severity of his injuries.  Depending on the severity, the Army will fly you and his mom to Alaska.  I'll call you in an hour." "Huh?! OK, I'll wait to hear from you." I got the gist of the entire conversation as I watched my husband's coffee-colored, sweet face drai

The root of all sin - PRIDE - can reduce each of us to eating grass.  Grass? you ask.  GRASS . King Nebuchadnezzar ate some serious grass.  He was one of the most powerful rulers in all of the world.  God gave him control of Babylon in 605 B.C.  The king was responsible for the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, conquering of other nations, and a prosperous, imposing kingdom.  In Daniel 5:18-19, Daniel reminds King Darius of King Nebuchadnezzar's status:  . . . the Most High God gave your father Nebuchadnezzar sovereignty and greatness and glory and splendor.  Because of the high position He gave him, all the peoples and nations and men of every language dreaded and feared him.  Those the king wanted to put to death, he put to death; those he wanted to spare, he spared; those he wanted to promote, he promoted; and those he wanted to humble, he humbled. Nebbie was a powerful man but only through God's hand.  Daniel 1:2 says that God gave Nebbie victory over Judah and even all

Obedience training around my house has slipped.  Oh, let me be honest - it has fallen off the map.  My half-hearted efforts at first-time obedience and joyful obedience have resulted in a grumbling, delayed, questioning, bargaining, group of uprisers.  It's a full-fledged revolt of the "Disobedient vs. the Disenchanted" .  Sometimes it is easier to let them grumble and complain rather than correct and discipline. I know, I know.  I am doing them a disservice by allowing them to skate by.  I know the Bible tells us:    Ephesians 6:1 Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. Colossians 3:20 Children, obey your parents in all things: for this is well pleasing unto the Lord Titus 3:1 Put them in mind to be subject to principalities and powers, to obey magistrates, to be ready to every good work I know too, that whenever I allow disobedience to plant a seed it will grow into a sequoia.  Quickly.  It doesn't take long for a snowball of

That sweet child of mine that God gave me as a constant reminder of a need for mercy and grace?  That girl that exposes my every weakness and strength?  That 6 year old fire cracker that has struggled with an "appropriate attitude"?  I witnessed a bending in her spirit of self today.  Picture an afternoon of a tired and cranky mom trying to juggle kindergarten with an almost 5 year old and the book of Daniel with the girls.  And, the kicker - trying to be joyful and not tired or cranky - in my own strength.  As I am being pulled this way and that for attention, all I can think of is wanting to indulge in a giant spoonful of chocolate frosting cooling in the icebox.  I know, I know.  Some of you are disgusted by the thought of that chocolate treat.  For me, it is a creamy, rich sampling of manna God sends me as a daily fortifier. Sorry for the bunny trail.  Chocolate frosting can have that affect on me. Anyway, the stress is mounting, the 4 year old is frustrated and stu

My husband and I have a guilty pleasure to confess.  It is not anything that is detrimental to our spirits or disastrous for our physical bodies.  It is just wasted minutes spent watching a program where we learn pretty much nil except the value of someone else's junk.  We love to spend late nights peering into other people's garages, basements, and store rooms via "American Pickers".  The hosts, Frank and Mike, travel around the country in a van looking for valuable recyclables - Rusty Gold .  Their eyes light up and sweat begins to roll off their foreheads when they spy something they can transform from junk to treasure.  Rare bicycles and tin toys or porcelain cafeteria signs and oil pumps incite giddiness between them.  Mike likes to say "I'm just an ordinary guy looking for extraordinary things". Rusty gold, huh?  Their finds are covered in dust and cobwebs and years of grime, neglected  under a bottom shelf at the back of a rarely entered shed.

I have a 6 year old daughter with a passionate spirit .  Nothing is gray when it comes to her.  It's black or white, perfection or disastrous, sweet or sour.  Absolutely no in between.  She is the gift from God that keeps on giving - challenges, frustrations, laughter, hugs, smiles, and tears.  In her I see a future leader or ring-leader.  I see an amazing woman that God has created to inspire other people to act with vigor and vitality.  She has an infectious smile that lights up her eyes and the room she enters.  She has a heart that breaks at every infraction inflicted upon her by me, her brothers, and her sister. This girl o'mine is a challenge to home school.  She is the "Why Girl".   EVERYTHING under the God-created sun warrants an inquisitive comment.  Why is spaghetti called spaghetti? Why can't I have dessert at every meal? Why must I brush my teeth? Why did Abraham Lincoln chop down the cherry tree?  (By the way, this is NOT something we covered

Spinning a schpiel, you ask?  You know the people I mean.  You probably have at least one friend that comes to mind when you read "Official Schpiel Spinner".   The type of person that talks on and on about really nothing at all.  Or, talks only of themselves and never stops to take a breath.  Or, if they do stop it is to switch subjects of "me", "Me", or "ME". I recently met one such person.  She seemed nice enough and normal enough.  She used regular speech and made eye contact.  Her children were pleasant and it all seemed dandy.  Until, the schpiel began to flow from her never-closed lips .  Between the I've-been-there and I've-done-that and I'm-gonna-do-that was a cry of insecurity.  The woman was silently screaming "I'm insecure!"  "I'm lonely inside!". My first reaction was to cross her off my potential friends list.  I know what you are thinking!  Isn't it ugly to think I have such a list? 

The Lord sent me to Central America to evangelize.  Except that is not all He sent me to do.  He also sent me to be listening ears to those who needed a sounding board.  And what an amazing opportunity he handed me on a silver platter. I had the honor of sharing a hotel room with a BFF for an entire week.  We were able to solve the world's problems until 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning.   I was able to pour out all I had seen, heard, and done throughout the day and so did she.  We were able to unload all the emotions and just "externally process" all God was showing us. "Tippity-tap.  Tippity-tap." Three ladies from our mission team were at the door of Room 106 .  It seems they too, wanted to work through their experiences of the day.  We laughed and chatted with "randomocity".  Until . . . "Uh, I have a confession to make."  Uh oh .  The air instantly changed from frivolous bonding to electrified intensity .  Whatever was abou

Mommy.  Mommy.  Mom.  Momma.  Mother.  Mutter.  Mum.  Mummy.  Ma.  Mommy.  Mommy! These are the words ringing through my home, my ears, and my heart all day long.  With four kids at home, two of which we home school, the call for my attention never ceases.  Pleas for a referee to break up a squabble over trains, assistance with solving for "x", and inquiries as to what will be served at every meal for the entire day, including snacks, are abundant. The name "Mommy" is heard so often I sometimes ask my children to call me "George" for the day.  They laugh and think it is funny but I seriously just need relief from hearing the "M" word.  I inform them that I will not answer to any of the M-synonyms (another opportunity to squeeze in a language lesson!) but will be happy to answer their call when addressed as "George". An amazing thing happens - those children have to stop and think about using the correct name.  Sometimes it takes

Weight .  What an UGLY word for those of us who struggle day in and day out to maintain or in my case, achieve, an acceptable BMI.  Picture this. . . three or four days a week of "30 Day Shred" - killer ! Two or three days of recumbent bike - boring !  Counting and tracking Weight Watchers points until my pencil is worn down to a nub - relentless agony !  What's worse?  Committed exercise and diet changes since mid-November has earned me a 4 pound gain.  You heard that right - GAIN !  Now, to be honest I did have a 3 week excessively indulgent period over Christmas.  But you would think days upon days of Jillian Michels would balance that out. As you can guess, there is more going on here than just exercise and diet changes.  For me, food has always been a coping mechanism, a prop.  I was one of those tween girls that had to shop in the Pretty Plus department where designers somehow forgot to make things cute.  You know, gingham and bows instead of Andy Gibb T-shirt

My family recently visited a sea life/amusement park.  To prepare for the unavoidable water experience, I donned my swim suit under my sun dress.  Now to set the stage, my figure is Rubenesque in nature which calls for one of those not-so-cute swim short ensembles.  What I didn't realize while shopping for said swim shorts was that those shorts cause serious friction !  There was so much rubbing of skin against shorts that day I could have produced enough electricity to power the whole park! While doctoring my sore hamhocks with first aid cream, it brought to mind what I am like when I am doing my own thing and not God's.  I have a constant ever-present desire to do things my way first and then "consult" with God later.  You know the " it's better to ask forgiveness later than ask for permission now " theme?  I practically authored the idea!  You see, for me, going off on my own Commando-style never seems to work out.  The friction of my independe

Have you wondered if your public persona is a true representation of your personal truth or self? For the last two years, my idea of my public  self no longer jived with what was inside my heart and soul.  As you can imagine, drama and trauma ensued.  My plastic smile and pretty earrings clashed with (in my mind) my smeared lipstick-stained grimace and tarnished edges.  You see, I could no longer compartmentalize the good, the bad, and the ugly.  It all collided and BOY, was it U-G-L-Y! A friend and I had just experienced a weekend conference focusing on our godly roles as mothers and wives.  I remember sitting there surrounded by beautiful (clearly beautiful inside and out) women who loved the Lord.  I couldn't even hear or process what the speakers spoke about, what the songs heralded, or  focus on the people I met. All I heard and FELT was my Lord shouting in a whisper that He would no longer accept being in a compartment.  He would no longer TOLERATE my living a pretty, p