life matters

I am Imperfect

2012-01-05T16:20:00.002-05:00

            The sleek, black, Batmanlooking vehicle bolted out of the subdivision, positioning itself directly infront of us. White smoke jetted out of the double exhaust, leaving us,literally, in the dust. "I guesshe's coming out," I laughed. Then I smiled as I read the lone sticker,perfectly centered on the rear bumper. "I am Second." Oh, the irony!

            As humans, we have a needto belong. According to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, “love/belonging” placesthird, just behind, our needs for food and safety. We want to be a part ofsomething, some church, some group, or some movement.
            A number of us are quiteexpressive. Some choose to exercise this voice by affixing various stickers to theirvehicles. The sticker lets people know the driver belongs to this soccer club,this school or this church, share this belief or this cause.
            Lest you think I judged thedriver on my morning commute, I did not. He actually made me snicker as Ithought about the creatures I rub elbows with on this planet. We mean well. Wereally do. But we often fail while trying to succeed. We “promote” world peaceon our car, but get into petty arguments at home. We try. We fail. We tryagain. We’re human.
            From their website’s homepage: “I am Second is a movement meant toinspire people of all kinds to live for God and for others.” They did,indeed, inspire me today. I am going to keep trying to honor my Creator with mywords and actions. I’ll try not to cut you off in traffic. I’ll do my best topractice patience and kindness. However,a more relevant sticker (for me) might read, “I am Imperfect.”
                Iam reminded of the words of the Apostle Paul as he spoke about being righteous,or perfect. “Not that I have alreadyobtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to takehold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myselfyet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind andstraining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize forwhich God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:12-14 (NIV).

Through the Holiday Hubbub

2011-12-24T10:53:00.000-05:00

The doorbell resonated through the holiday hubbub at 805east 8^th avenue, one cool, crisp Christmas eve. Parents’ urged theirchildren, “Answer it! Answer it!” Ronnie and Mary dropped everything and dartedto the door. They flung it open. And what to their wondering eyes shouldappear? Actually, nothing, at first. Then, looking down, they saw a life-sizeddoll and a huge Texaco truck.

They stared with amazement at each presentwrapped in ribbon. The two darted outside and scanned the front lawn and thenight sky. Mary thought she heard bells jingling. Ronnie believed he heardsomething too. But the gift giver was nowhere to be found!

Ronnie and I still discuss the joy of that evening. Whodelivered the gifts? How did they get there? Though we have our hunches,neither really knows for sure.

As a small child, I must admit, I loved getting more thangiving. As years passed though, I grew to appreciate the gift of giving. Iwaited and watched. Would they like the present I prepared or purchased withthem in mind? Would they notice the effort spent on wrapping the present justright? Positive responses enhance my excitement of giving—both then and now.

God stood on the doorstep of humanity long ago. He rang thebell and left His Gift. The Package wasn’t decorated with ribbons or fancypaper. Nor did a mysterious donor deliver the Gift. This Present, dressed inswaddling clothes, lay in a manger: Baby Jesus, born of the Virgin Mary, God’sgift to each of us.

Ronnie and I received the gifts gladly that year. Ourparents didn’t force them upon us. We naturally brought them into the house andbegan to play. I doubt we paid much attention to the wrappings.

The doorbell continues to ring this Christmas.God sent His Son. He sent the Perfect Gift with us in mind. He desires ourpositive response but will not force us to receive His Present or His Presence.Rather, He waits and watches for our reaction. He wonders. Will we unwrap His Presence?

Through all of the hubbub, I pray we will hear the bell, openthe door, and invite Him into our homes and our lives this Christmas.

"Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord" (Luke 2:11 Niv).

A Most Valued Gift

2011-12-21T20:23:00.002-05:00

Through a series ofevents, I found myself alone one Christmas morning. Though I say alone, self-pity and I were getting pretty cozy. Bymid-morning, I began to tire of her company. Her vicious cycle of lies left meless than merry.
I dried my eyes, freshened up and left my apartment to visitmy next door neighbors: nursing homeresidents.

I asked the lady at thefront desk if I could spend time with those who weren't expecting visitors. Ididn't come with a choir. I didn't have a song to sing or a poem to read. Icame alone. She motioned toward their area. They were clustered together. Some were slumped over in their wheelchairs. Others wore a blank gaze as if they were looking at a campfire.

They may not have anyvisitors but at least they had each other. And now here I was--one of them. Ifelt a little awkward as I asked if I could join them. But they allowed me intotheir circle. I sat. I listened. Iquestioned some of them about Christmas’ past. Those Christmas strangers smiledat me. Their joy at my presence was the most valued present I received thatyear.

As we celebrate the birth of Jesus, I wonder. Will we allow him into our circle? Will we listen, question, smile? I encourage you to unwrap His Presence this Christmas. It will be His most valued gift.

The Gift

2011-10-23T12:31:00.000-04:00

There’s been a shift of climate in our home. It seems sudden. But looking back, it’s been a gradual, slow brewing, change. Sometimes, intense. Other times, calm. It’s been building steam for the past, oh, thirteen years. But today, it is official. We have a teenager in the house.

With fond memories, I remember the labor and delivery nurse’s words as this child entered our world: “12:04, baby boy!” After experiencing three miscarriages, Zane Robert DeMent, was a precious gift from God. Although he has changed in many ways, height, weight, emotions…smells, one thing has remained constant. He is truly a gift.

I watch him shoot hoops in his new shoes this morning. No longer a little boy but still, he calls me to look his way, “Mom, watch me dunk it!” Still wanting, longing for my attention. Glad I can offer praise this morning. Because, it seems like lately, all I offer are demands: Do your homework. Finish your project. Clean your room. Put away your laundry. PLEASE USE DEODORANT!

He makes his way over to me, and squeezes me tight. I say, “I love you, Zane,” “I love you more,” he returns. He may never know how wrong he is.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV.

A Goodnight Sleep

2011-10-14T18:40:00.000-04:00

The stage is set. My three youngest are crashed. Sheets, blankets, chairs and a broom handle create an elaborate gazebo type fort. Pillows and stuffed animals cover my floor. My kids fall asleep, impressed with their design. I don’t care that my house is turned upside down. Nothing is going to interfere with my plans. Not even my oldest, the stay up late whenever he gets the chance, leave the TV and lights on all over the place, son can foil my strategy. He is spending the night with a friend, running their electric bill up, I muse. And then there’s my hard working husband, the only one who can’t sleep in tomorrow. He fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

It’s only me and my book now. And even its riveting pages are no match for my nodding head. I fall asleep somewhere near the end of Chapter 19. But this beautiful sleep ends abruptly with the sharp ring of my husband’s cell phone. Who in the world is calling at this hour? My husband stirs but remains sleeping. I guess I drift off again myself. Yet, like a recurring nightmare, the phone blares out again. This time I get up. I don’t recognize the number so I slip back to bed. Got to be a wrong number, I reason.

Miraculously, I return to my slumber. About twenty minutes later, I hear a faint tap, tap, tap on our front door. I must be dreaming. But there it goes again. Our dog, Jack, starts barking (obviously oblivious, along with our midnight caller, that this is my first chance in weeks for a good night sleep). The doorbell rings. Scrambling to find my clothes, the bell rings again and I hear a familiar voice, “Mom? Mom? Mommm?” Why is it never, “Dad? Dad? Daaaad?” Apparently, my first born is a victim of a failed sleepover. He walks in, moans about his stomach hurting, moseys over to the couch and falls asleep within five minutes. My return flight to dreamland would not come as easy.

I grab my book, click on a small light in the living room and scan Chapter 19 to locate where I left off. A couple hours later, I am ready to catch my flight again. I position my pillow just under my head and hold on tight. But, my flight is barely off the runway when my youngest walks in, crying, desperately in need of a Band-Aid for an earlier injury on his big toe.

“The best laid plans...,” I think. My long anticipated night of sleep is not to be. I know that now. There’s always coffee, I smile. A few hours later, my husband delivers my consolation prize cup of java. “Offer ya a lousy cup of coffee?” he smirks.

Securing the mug, I hug my husband and we survey our four children sprawled on the floor and couch. We smile. I’m warmed by more than the coffee. I wouldn’t trade this for the best night sleep in the world.

The Gift of Thanksgiving

2010-11-25T08:30:00.001-05:00

“Mom, come quick! My children urged. “Dora left us a present on the front porch!

I casually dried my dishwashing hands, reluctant to see what “present” our newly adopted feline friend could have bestowed.

This was seven-month-old Dora’s first gift and quite coincidently, her first Thanksgiving with us. Dora (a.k.a. “Catface”) is what you might call an adopted, hand-me-down stray. We received her from a family member who, when it comes to helpless kittens, has a heart larger than her home.

I eased over to the crowd already formed near the front door. Just as I thought, there lay Dora’s fresh kill—the proverbial mouse, struck down in his prime, a love offering from a grateful pet.

We stood around staring at the lifeless creature for quite a while. Then, my daughter poised a question that would secure her a spot in the DeMent Kid Quote Hall of Fame (not her first by the way). Lauren asked: “Mom, How does Dora know it’s Thanksgiving?” Her words still evoke laughter.

“Honey, I explained. “Dora doesn’t know. She is just doing what cats do. They deliver “gifts” to their owners from time to time. Maybe they are offering thanks. Maybe they are proud of their catch and desire to share their bounty.”

Over the course of 17 years, American writer and editor, Sarah Hale wrote letters to five United States presidents campaigning for a national day of thanks. In 1863, President Abraham Lincoln granted Sarah’s request and established legislation for a National Day of Thanksgiving.

I love that our country designates a day to give thanks. I enjoy spending time with family, watching my Dallas Cowboys (win hopefully) and eating all of those delicious tried and true recipes. But, I challenge you: Allow Thanksgiving Day to be more than a day of feasting on food and football. Allow this one day to set the tone for the other 364. Create a healthy habit of giving thanks each day. Rich, poor, young, old, married, single, healthy, unhealthy-regardless of our position, I pray we all cultivate a grateful heart.

Dora didn’t just kill a mouse where it stood. She brought it before her owners. She laid her gift at our feet. I pray this Thanksgiving, we will do the same. We will present thanks to our Owner, the “giver of all good things.”

Happy Thanksgiving!

"Let everything that has breath praise the Lord" (Psalm 150:6 NIV).

From Book Signing to Lunches and Laundry

2010-10-11T10:24:00.002-04:00

Christmas lights, Christmas cookies, candles and carols. Last night I was honored as friends and family celebrated the launch of my very first book, Unwrapping His Presence: What We Really Need For Christmas. Author and speaker, Chris Maxwell, graciously asked me to be a part of this project and included five of my Christmas stories.

Friends gathered and family beamed (although sisters teased about waitng in line for my signature). And, an aging mother's eyes welled with tears of pride. Truly a special evening.

This morning looks quite different. My feet hit the ground running, though not to another speaking engagement or book signing. My "real job" was calling. "Mommmmmmmmy, where are my shoes?" "Did you sign my planner?" "Can I have some cereal?" I threw in a quick load of laundry and proceeded to set up the lunch packing assembly line. Meanwhile, I hear echoes of Queen in my head "caught in a landslide...no escape from reality."

Last night was exciting. I enjoyed the people. I welcomed the sights and sounds of Christmas. I took pleasure in the lights and the laughter. But this morning holds the "reality" I love. My husband, my kids, my family, my life.

Time to throw wet clothes in the dryer and get ready to sign...planners!

Austin's Universe

2010-08-29T16:41:00.005-04:00

Five-year-old Austin left his mother’s side to play. Without delay, she called for him: “Hey Austin?” “Yes, Mom?” “You’re my sunshine!” He smiled and replied, “Hey, Mom?” “What is it Austin?” “You’re my moon!” Austin skipped down the hall a few steps, paused, turned and ran back towards his mother. “Actually Mom, you’re not my moon…you’re my universe!”

Austin’s words would warm any mother’s heart. Austin was right. His mother was his universe. She was everything to him. Austin relied on his mom to provide his basic needs. His mother supplied food for him to eat, a nice home, and she loved him dearly. She provided for Austin in ways a five-year old brain can’t comprehend. Besides food and shelter, Austin’s mom (together with his father) provided protection; training and instructions on how to live and one day leave the nest, able to flourish on his own.

Children provide an excellent model for how we can convey our love to God. If we observe children closely, we get a clear picture of how to worship Jesus. Children are FULL of questions. They need input so they are constantly asking us how this or that works and why. Why? Why? Why? God encourages our questions. Nothing is “off-limits” so ask Him the tough ones!

Children are sponges for love and attention. They offer spontaneous hugs and “I love yous” throughout the day. If we’re going somewhere, they want to go. If we are hanging out, they want to hang out with us. God longs for time with us. He is pleased when His children express their love and honor him.

When children are hurt or faced with any injustice, they approach us to cry, tattle or plead their case. They seek us first regarding cuts and boo-boos. They constantly ask for snacks and meals. They desire (and sometimes require) our attention all day long and into the night. They are needy little things! God is close to the broken-hearted. He wants us to “seek Him first” and to “cast our cares” upon Him. God reminds us that when we come to Him, He will give us rest. In short, “… my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus” Philippians 4:19 NIV).

Next time you desire to worship God, think like a child. Picture yourself, running up to Jesus, jumping up into his lap. I encourage you to rest your little head, with all its concerns and worries, into the nook of His neck. Laugh, speak, weep, worship. He anxiously awaits your arrival.

Remembering A Father

2010-06-21T08:25:00.002-04:00

Old Spice cologne did not make it into my shopping cart this week. There were no trips to Hallmark in search of the perfect card. A Sunday afternoon drive to Mt. Dora did not occur. Another Father’s Day is here but a father is absent. Will it really be 17 years this September? A dull ache remains. So do the memories.

I remember a trip to the beach, even though the beach was not his favorite place, nor was it convenient to go. He taught me the importance of keeping promises.

I recall countless afternoons spent riding around in his pick up truck. He modeled the value of “being” and not always “doing.”

He helped me create homemade candles to give away as presents, showing me the significance of using my talents to serve others.

He participated in “Take Your Daughter to Work Day” long before it became popular. Talking with customers and taking trips to the lumber yard and hardware store; he taught me the importance of hard work, relationships and discipline.

All of my memories are not fond ones though. He wasn’t a perfect father. Like each of us, he missed the mark more than once. But, I believe he did the best he could.

I wonder. What memories do you have of your father? Whether good or bad, he taught you. Maybe the lessons were ones you don’t care to impart to future generations. Maybe you don’t appreciate, as singer- songwriter Marc Cohn says, the things (he) handed down. Or, perhaps his life is one you wish to pass on to your children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews or students.

How did you spend Father’s Day? Was it a celebration of a man you love or a painful reminder of what you lost or maybe never had? Whatever the case, I know of another Father who will never leave you or let you down. His Patience, His Parenting, His Love is perfect. Earthly fathers may fail us. He will not.

See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are!
1 John 3:1 (NLT)

We Have A Winner!

2009-02-01T15:01:00.003-05:00

Congratulations to Evelyn of Orlando, FL! She is the winner of Keri Wyatt Kent's latest book, "Rest: Living In Sabbath Simplicity." Evelyn's name was drawn at random from a hat (actually, the palm of my hand) containing the names of everyone who posted a comment on the Life Matter's blog last month.

Thanks to everyone who read the blog and/or posted a comment. I encourage you to checkout Keri's book!

Grace & Peace!

Mary

Special Guest: Author, Keri Wyatt Kent

2009-01-20T07:48:00.001-05:00

I'm honored to have seasoned author, Keri Wyatt Kent, as a guest on Life Matters today. If you've shared any air space with me during the past few months, no doubt you've heard me praise Keri's latest book, "REST: Living in Sabbath Simplicity."

Keri invites, inspires and encourages us to do the unthinkable in today's culture: REST! Her words have caused me to think (and re-think) how I spend my time. This well-written, easy to read book on the Sabbath, weaves history, story telling and application all into a practical "How To" book on "rest." This should be required reading for...everyone (especially those who don't have time to read it)!

Today, I'm giving away a FREE copy of Keri's book! So, read on...

Keri, "sabbath" and "rest" seem like foreign words. What is Sabbath, and what is its purpose? What do you mean by Sabbath Simplicity?

Sabbath, first and foremost, is a gift from our loving God. He invites us to take a day to rest from our labor, so that we might engage in relationship with him and with others. Its purpose is to refresh us physically and spiritually, to celebrate our freedom, to draw us close to God, and yet to remind us that we are not God.

God commanded us to Sabbath, to stop. But Sabbath-keeping is also a spiritual practice or discipline. All disciplines, (like prayer, solitude, etc.) create some space for God in our lives. Just as we have a lot of latitude in other practices (we can pray any number of ways, for example), we have freedom in how we practice Sabbath. My book offers a lot of ideas, and real-life examples, of how to approach this life-giving practice.

Sabbath Simplicity is a sanely-paced, God-focused life. It’s a lifestyle that includes the practice of Sabbath-keeping, but goes beyond just taking a day off. IN a way, it’s living out what Jesus told us to do in Matthew 6:33: See first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Sabbath Simplicity seeks God first.

You're the parent of a 12 and 14 year old. What does Sabbath look like for them? Do you restrict their activities on Sundays?

I have never legislated Sabbath for anyone else in my home. My kids have freedom that day to rest or to play or whatever. They know that I am available to listen or to talk. Sometimes we will play a board game, go for a bike ride or a walk.

My daughter has played soccer for ten years, and she sometimes has games on Sunday. But we are never running from one game to the next, or from the game to the grocery store because she is not in more than one sport at a time. (so in that way, we do restrict—they can do one sport and one artistic pursuit at a time, no more). But the restriction is not just a Sabbath thing, it’s a lifestyle thing.

We sometimes have friends over for a meal, or the kids have friends over. Those kids often remark—your house is so peaceful. I think Sabbath is a day to extend hospitality—but not in a stressful way.

My son is more introverted, so sometimes his Sundays provide him the freedom to just spend time alone, playing Legos or reading or drawing. My daughter is more extroverted, so she often spends time with friends. Her youth group meets during the 11:15 a.m. service at church, and from there they go to “house groups” which are a meal and group time. So a big part of her Sunday is spent in community with other students from our church.

Why did you start the practice of Sabbath? Why did you decide to observe it? How has your life and your family changed as a result?
Sundays in my house when I was growing up were mostly a relaxing family day, even though we didn’t call it Sabbath. But when I had my own family, I found myself getting very busy—not just with kids’ stuff but also getting over-involved at church. I tend to have a work-a-holic approach to life. When the kids were small, God brought a couple of books that mentioned Sabbath across my path. The idea of Sabbath stirred a longing in my soul, which is one way God speaks to us, through our deep desires. So I started, on my own, to set aside my normal work. It was very gradual, and it took my family a while to even notice. It’s a mysterious practice, in a way, because to “do” it, you have to stop doing. It is simply resting—and yet it brings you into the presence of God. It’s been a profound part of my spiritual journey. And my children know that Sunday is a peaceful day at our house. They also have learned that I am available to play, to listen, to cuddle. It’s given us a day for quality time, and I think it’s helped me be a better parent. It also silently affirms to my children, you are loved, apart from your accomplishments. It is okay to just be.

Finally, how did you balance busy Sundays full of soccer games and other activities with the practice of Sabbath? What advice do you have for parents trying to juggle hectic schedules? What about parents of small children?

While we sometimes have a soccer game, we don’t have other things, because we’ve placed limits on our activities. So we don’t have busy Sundays. My son has often opted not to be in sports, but this year, played football. Thankfully, his games are on Saturday.

Advice: Let your kids pick one sport plus one other activity (say, piano lessons) at a time. An important life lesson you need to teach your children: delayed gratification. You can’t have it all, all at once. You can try lots of different sports, one at a time. The more kids you have, the more crucial this is. Four kids in two sports each often translates into eight games per weekend, not to mention a least a dozen practices per week. Choose sanity.

Schedule housework and errands for weekdays, so if you do have sports, you’re not trying to squeeze in other work around games.

Keri, thanks so much for visiting and telling us about REST: Living in Sabbath Simplicity. Readers, if you would like to be entered in a drawing to win a copy of Keri's book, leave a comment on this post. I'll select a winner at the end of this month.

Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity is available at bookstores everywhere, and on-line. Click here to purchase it from amazon.com or christianbook.com.

http://www.amazon.com/Rest-Simplicity-Keri-Wyatt-Kent/dp/0310285976/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1229546292&sr=8-1

http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?item_no=285977&netp_id=550382&event=ESRCN&item_code=WW&view=covers

Inaugural Ride

2008-11-26T08:46:00.000-05:00

By Mary DeMent

Three year-old David eyed the bike. A few neighborhood boys had stopped by to play with his older brother, Sam. Hunter dropped his training wheel-free bike near the road. David watched Hunter run off. He looked at the bike and glanced back at Hunter, twice. Then, David seized his opportunity. He carefully approached the bike, still on the lookout for Hunter's return and began mounting.

"He's going to ride that thing!" I motioned to the other moms gathered. I ran down to the road and held the back of the seat. David began to peddle. I jogged a few steps. Waving me off, he said, "Let go, Mom. I got it!" And off he rode! Three years old. No helmet. No shoes. Not even a shirt, I'm afraid to say! After passing several houses, he lost balance and hit the pavement. Helping him up I asked if he was okay. He said, "Yep! Now I'm going to ride Hunter's bike back to him!"

I could learn a lot from David in the "seizing opportunities" arena. Sometimes, you just have to "go for it!" In the best (and safest) circumstances, you plan, you prepare, you organize, you equip, THEN you execute. If I knew David’s inaugural ride was coming, I would have told him, "Wait! Let me get your helmet, shoes and shirt! Hold up! Not yet. I need the video camera and someone to snap a photo of your first ride without training wheels." But sometimes, the crucial life moments won't wait for a video shoot.

Obeying Mom’s prior instructions on bike safety would have ensured David’s well-being. Rules are created for our protection. Helmets prevent concussions. Clothing and other padding, shields our bodies from scrapes and bruises. David possessed none of the above yet managed to escape injury…this time.

I pray that David’s athletic aptitude pervades other areas of life. May he be a quick learner, not just when it comes to balancing a bike, jumping a ramp or smacking a ball down the third base line. May David’s knowledge go beyond biking and ball fields. I pray David learns how to balance the game of life.

God gave David a thrill-seeking nature. But, he also gave him a cautious and caring mother. We both have a lot to learn.

“My son, preserve sound judgment and discernment, do not let them out of your sight; they will be an ornament to grace your neck. Then you will go on your way in safety, and your foot will not stumble…” (Proverbs 3: 21-23 NIV).

Signs and Wonders

2008-04-29T15:08:00.000-04:00

By Mary DeMent

While driving last week, my eyes caught sight of a familiar sign. It was white with black lettering. You’ve seen similar signs peppered across intersections, highways and even country roads. Like other signs, it was posted to get my attention. But it wasn’t addressing my speed, a school zone or a change in traffic flow. Nor was it alerting me to a no-parking zone or an unlawful u-turn area. This sign was small and round with two simple words. Down below those two words, in smaller print, read: “In Memory Of” and it listed a girl’s name. Those words altered my driving (and my thoughts) for the afternoon. The small, white, round sign, covered in a circle of flowers, simply said, “Drive Carefully.” But, those two words said much more to passersby.

The sign said, “My loved one died here, in this very spot, due to someone’s driving negligence or maybe it was an accident. Regardless, the cause of death involved a vehicle much like your own, so please, drive carefully.

As I passed, I paused. And I prayed. I paused to think of that girl or woman who lost her life. Breathing one moment, on her way…somewhere. Then, a screech, a crash, mangled steel and her trip, her life, over. I prayed for her family. I prayed I would heed their request.

I remembered Andy, my former neighbor. A fence separated our backyards. He loved growing things, all kinds of things. And Andy loved fireworks. He would shoot them off on holidays, on weekdays, any day, any hour. One day, the plants stopped growing. The noise ceased. Shortly after, a sign appeared near our house. A round sign, covered with flowers and Andy’s name.

I thought about the reckless ways I’ve seen people drive. I thought about the reckless ways I’ve seen people live. I wondered how we would respond if the roads we traveled were decorated with signs that read, “LIVE CAREFULLY.” Would we obey those traffic signs? Would flashing lights follow if we failed to observe the warning? I wonder.

Sometimes, “flashing lights” do follow. They are called, “consequences.” Touch a hot stove; receive a burn. Jump off a tall building; break a bone. Talk to me before my first cup of coffee; receive a blank stare. A friend who teaches troubled youth often tells “her” boys, “You can choose your actions, but you can’t always choose your consequences.”

Occasionally, though, we escape consequences (or so we think). An ancient text says this, “As I have observed, those who plow evil and those who sow trouble reap it” (Job 4:8 NIV). The author of Hebrews writes, “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account” Hebrews 4:13 NIV).

Let’s live carefully. Ready to give an account for our lives, ready to be investigated, ready to help others join us in living life carefully. Such lives can be signs many will notice as they see us, watch us, hear us, or live right beside us.

Rough Draft

2008-01-10T10:04:00.000-05:00

This day is different. Unique. It isn’t yesterday. It isn’t tomorrow. It is today. Right now. Today is in front of us, staring us down. Tomorrow it will be behind us, never returning. Time. How do you spend yours? As I write this in the early morning hours, two of my boys are near me…snoring. Up early but now crashed on the couch. My two other children are still snuggled in bed. And their father has already left for work.

The refrigerator hums to me. The laptop light nearly blinds me. Birds sing to me. They do their dance from branch to branch. No cares. No bills. No teenagers. No worries. They chat, taunt a prowling cat and fly through my backyard and their life with ease. Must be nice, I smirk.

This month is new. This year is new. Both untouched: Clean slates for us to write upon. Using the same pen but brand new paper. Will we continue our current novel or send it to the scrap heap? What adjustments are needed? Are we willing to make them?

Will we trust the Editor with our manuscripts? Ask for assistance? Be secure with His modifications? Like most editors, the Master Editor reviews our text for needed changes. Editors insert or delete commas and periods, change tenses, delete entire paragraphs, sometimes removing the article’s original point. They change everything! Our job is to write. And, submit. Have you submitted your manuscript, your ideas, your life to the Master Editor for polishing, suggestions, and improvements? Are you prepared to yield to His changes?

Our lives are only rough drafts. Here on earth, we write and rewrite. Learn the craft, learn to accept rejection letters and hopefully, improve our skills. We polish. We refine. In heaven, we read the manuscript with new eyes, enjoying the changes, remembering the journey that finally made our book, our life, into the best seller it was designed to be. Number one on the charts.

The next page of life begins with today. Driving to work, doing the laundry, teaching children or searching for a job. Dealing with a difficult co-worker, mounting bills or a troubled child or spouse. Life isn’t always smooth but remember, conflict keeps the story line interesting (unless of course you’re the one living it!).

Meet with your Editor often. Submit proposals, pray for wisdom, welcome suggestions and make needed changes.

Now, pick up the pen.

"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" (Psalm 118:24 NIV).

2007-12-06T23:32:00.000-05:00

Hop On My Harley Baby Jesus!

By Mary DeMent

Recently, I bumped into a lady from church at Wal-Mart. While talking on her cell phone, she paused to say hello. Hurried and discouraged she said, “I’ve just been to three stores and I can’t find anything with “Jesus” written on it! I guess I’ll just have to make it myself,” she resolved. Later that night, my sister-in-law called and voiced similar concerns. Annoyed, she blurted, “Where are the manger scenes? I see Santa Claus, reindeer, snowmen, even penguins but I can’t locate a decent manger scene!”

As I listened to her frustrations, my two year-old son played near my feet. He clutched his toy motorcycle. Down on all fours, he raced it around and around on the floor, zigzagging multiple toys, crashing into others. When he came upon the Fisher Price manger scene, he revved the engine. “Vrmm! Vrmm! Vrmm!” Next, without hesitation, he ramped the motorcycle up and over the manger. I chuckled, while thinking, “no room in the Inn? Hop on board my Harley, Baby Jesus!”

I laughed. Then my thoughts turned serious. If we don’t make room for Jesus in our stores, in our homes and in our lives, who will? I listen to the Christmas story and find it difficult to believe that no one could arrange room in the inn for these exhausted, young travelers. The trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem was no hop, skip and jump. I’m certain their clothes and demeanors showed wear from the extensive journey. Yet, no one would allow Mary and Joseph into their cozy room. Granted, those door closers didn’t fully comprehend that God’s Son, a future King, the future Savior of the world snuggled inside Mary’s womb. Regardless, an enormously pregnant, weary, teenager stood outside the door needing a place to stay, not to recharge her iPod and cell, not to rest, but to labor, to deliver a baby. Still, no offers? No one had a bed they could give up for the night? Not even a cot, a piece of the floor, nothing?

Right in the middle of my judgmental moment, I paused. Am I any different? How much room am I willing to give Jesus and those He died for? Is my welcome mat out and inviting? Or, is a “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging on the door of my life? How much of my time and energy do I offer Him, others? If I don’t prepare a meal, dry a tear, or slow down enough to see or hear the needs of those around me, who will?

“While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:6-7 NIV).

“While they were there.” I wonder. Who has God sent into our individual areas, our neighborhoods, our work places, our shopping centers, our homes? They may not be registering for the census or delivering a baby, but I believe God has placed them along our paths. So, I encourage us: Let’s make room.