If At First You Don’t Succeed – Gratituesday 11

It’s time for a little shout out to the Lord, so you know that it must be Gratituesday, where one can be vocally thankful for something in life.

Last week, I had begged for votes because I’m nothing if not shameless. As a result of the An Island Life poll, I was not picked Most Likely To Succeed. However, when the winning blog is named Praying For Parker, I find that I don’t mind taking backseat to a site that is giving everything to God.

Hello?! Diner vs. Prayer? Prayer trumps anything that I could serve up.

I can honestly say that it was a pleasure just to be named.

Not winning isn’t necessary a bad thing. I have a renewed energy with the blog. It was so encouraging to hear from others about how much they enjoyed the blog or, more importantly, me. You guys are good for my soul. And there is a sense of joy in knowing that someone out there thought enough about this blog that they anonymously threw my name in the hat.

That makes me smile from ear to ear.

So I’m thankful right now that I didn’t win the poll because I know overall that I’m still in the company of some mighty fine women and men who like me with or without a title. Plus with the win would have come some good disciplining from God. I’m sure I would have swelled with pride a time or 22 just thinking about it.

(And really, I could do without the pressure of having to live up to that category. I’m gonna fail left and right for the rest of my life… and it’s all good.)

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Simply Amazing

You know what amazes me the most about this world? That it’s not as standoffish or closed-off as it seems at times. Y’all amaze me with your offers of encouragement, support and readiness to pray for someone across the web. I don’t mean just for me either. Kelli, Heather, missionaries, tsunami/tornado/earthquake/hurricane survivors, Compassion… Y’all are not even picky about for whom you’ll pray. Thank you for your sweet embraces. You all have made me smile quite a bit lately.

You know what else amazes me? The way that God continually shows his power.

Take Mr. Right’s bout with melanoma. Only God could orchestrate such a situation that encouraged not only us, but our friends as well. We’ve been able to share that story, giving God all the glory for his protection.

Take when Mr. Right being let go from his job not even a month after we bought our house. God showed his hand of protection those few months that he was searching. Twice someone stepped up and anonymously paid our mortgage. We had more food to eat than we ever could eat. It seemed that we had more money in the bank than we did when Mr. Right was employed, all because of the outpouring of support and love from our friends and the church. When we would profuse our thanks to anyone, I can’t tell you how many times we heard, “Stop right there. You don’t know what a blessing it is to me to be able to do this for you. Thank you for letting me serve God through you.” Wow. Talk about eye-opening. This lack of job stuff had more going on behind the scenes than we realized!

Take our house being on the market. When we put it on the market last year, we had this feeling that God was telling us to sell. Okay, Mr. Right had the feeling. I was pouting in the corner about selling my home. But God is good at using situations that deal with the physical world to make big changes in our hearts. Soon I came to see that selling the house wasn’t about me and my wants at all. It’s about trusting God to lead us and following whenever he calls. That lesson was totally worth the breaking of my selfish spirit and letting me see a bigger view.

Take the crummy agent (unbeknownst to us) who brought no clients nor advertisement. Our clean place saw a few visitors, but not many. When the basement had seepage after a huge rain (and we’re on a hill, y’all!), we pulled it off the market thinking that maybe we misheard God’s directions. Then we received enough money to fix the basement, buy a sump pump and replace the old carpet with a much better carpet. Due to some wonderful networking and finding a quality workman who made bids at a fraction of the cost of other workmen, we were able to save about 4K to throw into savings.

Next our insurance agent came out for something or other, and while there, he asked if we received any money for the hail that came through our area. After replying that we received a letter from his offers that basically said, “Don’t even think about asking for money because we told you that roof had to be replaced when you bought it,” he said that we must have read that letter wrong and that he would send an inspector our right away. By the end of the week, we had half the money to pay for the new roof. The other half was the from the money we saved from using the carpet guy. So we had a new basement and a new roof in no time, with little money out of our pocket.

This March we were still feeling the directive to put the house on the market. Many people around here said, “I don’t know about this market… You might want to wait,” or “You’re selling it yourself? Are you crazy? You need someone who has the buyers to show your house. Well, good luck with that.”

We always reply that if God wants it sold, he’ll sell it no matter what the market looks like. Our God, he’s the God of all things impossible. He likes to flex his muscles when he knows it seems like that there is not good end possible.

So, anyone want to guess what happened this weekend?

Let me give you a hint: we spent all day yesterday (after church, of course) looking at houses…

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In The Space Of A Few Hours

Yesterday morning on my way to work, I was praying about being led by God’s hand, that I would follow his lead willingly and be of use to him as he wanted, not how I wanted. I was asking to help me take myself out of any equation so that he could be the only right answer.

The morning proceeded normally. I ran by Panera’s for a continental breakfast for a meeting. I made it to the meeting place in great time. Everything went beautifully, for my part at least. Then I headed back to the office until it was time for me to set up lunch for the group.

I thought I might as well use that time wisely (for me) to swing through the drive-thru at my bank to deposit one of our state refund checks.

While at the window, I turned into a teenager. And I don’t mean that I looked youthful and weighed only 85 lbs like I did back then. I mean it in the way that you want to slap some 16 year old silly if they acted that way to you.

When attempting to deposit the check, the teller very politely said, “Mrs. Shalee (she used my last name of course, but I’m not going to advertise it here even though I’m sure you could never find anything about me with such a common name like Shalee…), I’m sorry, but I will need your husband’s signature on the check since his name is on the front as well.” Really she was as sweet as could be.

Me? I did the biggest eye-roll ever known to man. I’m amazed that I didn’t injure myself with the stretching of optic nerves that I did at that moment. It was a fantastic expression of impatience, annoyance and self-pity all in one movement. I’d have slapped myself if I could have seen me.

The teller? She said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Shalee… I just don’t want to make a mistake on a government check.”

Do you want to know what brilliant words came from my mouth? “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” (Sigh) “I’ll be back later after I get his signature. Thank you.” And then I took my check and drove off.

My very first thought was, “Well there was a fabulous example to Christ, don’t you think, Shalee?” Remembering her name from her tag and I thought, “Sule probably would have preferred to see God and you totally got in the way again, Shalee.” And I wanted to park the car and go apologize to her for my rude behavior.

But I didn’t. I can be such an idiot sometimes.

I returned to the office to work for a bit, left to set up lunch and then continued on my way to meet with Mr. Right for lunch since I would be driving right by his work. While waiting for the light to turn on the interstate, I noticed a homeless person standing on the median, holding a cardboard sign that said, “Please help me. I’m homeless and anything will help me SURVIVE.”

As I waited for that light, I had multiple thoughts run through my mind as I avoided looking at him.

• I never have money on me.
• Why is he standing on that corner? He looks completely capable of working.
• What would cause someone to succumb to panhandling for money?
• He probably won’t use it for what it should be used for…
• Is he cold?
• Will this light ever change?

And as I waited for the light to turn green, I actually turned to look at him. He looked downcast, embarrassed to be there, broken, not making eye contact with any of the drivers. And I realized that all of my thoughts were meaningless in the scheme of things. Here was a person asking for help from anyone who would give it.

I quickly pulled out my wallet to see if I had anything to give. And there I found some forgotten Christmas money that I had left over from a recent purchase. I grabbed it quickly, as the light had just changed. I rolled down the window and extended my hand to him and said, “If you’ll come quickly, I’d like to help.”

Amazed that someone had noticed him, he stumbled for a moment and then ran to the window. He smiled a beautiful smile. “Right on! Oh, thank you! God bless you!” Those were the words I heard as I sped up to make my turn.

Driving down the interstate, I burst out into crying. Was it the loss of the money? Was it that that man was standing there needing help and I was the only one to see him? Was it that this is a broken world that we cannot fix by money alone? Was it because I know that I can behave so badly one moment and then be better the next? I really don’t know why I was bawling. It just felt like the right response.

And as I recalled his words, “God bless you!”, I realized that he does. Every single day. In ways that surprise me and make me want to know him all the more as he’s taking me from a selfish, inconsiderate twit in the morning to a kinder, open-handed person by the afternoon.

It was a direct answer to the prayer I prayed that morning. God took me out of the way and made himself known, at least to one man standing in the middle of the road.

And I have to tell you, I liked losing myself.

I liked it a lot.

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Free As A Bird

I’m not sure I’ve made our plans known to you as of yet, but we’re putting our house on the market (again) so that we can move into a house with a smaller mortgage.  Our hope is that we will be able to use the money that God has given us to do two things: pay off debts and have money at the ready to give away to others.  Our plan is as simple as that – not lofty, but still a way to honor God with the possessions that he has given us.  

(And if it sounds as if these decisions were easy for me to make, I suggest that you head back to my archives about a year ago and see how much I fought God regarding these choices.  I’m entirely too stubborn for my own good, but God is way more stubborn/stronger than me.  He’s softened my heart to see the goodness of this plan.)

Knowing that we would like to get the house on the market in March, I took some time this weekend to clean out the kitchen drawers, giving away items that we no longer use, throwing away older items that should have been tossed before moving into our home in the first place and straightening things in general.

I was doing well until I opened the pantry.  It dawned on me how much God has given to us.  Look at this pantry…  every shelf is filled all the way to the back!  

That got me thinking about all the other places that we have food or items that are pure fun…

A few of these bottles were gifts, but for the most part, we purchased them.  For our amusement.  Whenever we feel like having a drink.  And to avoid dusting, as you can tell from the picture.  (Hey!  I’m short.  If you can see it, I’ll just hand you a rag and you can dust it.)

This freezer is in our garage.  It is so packed with meats, vegetables and cheeses that I have no need to purchase anything for months.  MONTHS!  How insane is that?

Our fridge doesn’t have much space in it either.  And most of what you see in there are extras, like ice cream, cookies and after school snacks like yogurts and fruits.

I didn’t even take a picture of the snack cabinet that has peanuts, crackers, fruit snacks and the such.  And I avoided the spice cabinet and the ones above the stove that has all the oils, teas and hot chocolate mixes.

I have to tell you:  Alone in my kitchen, I wept from embarrassment and shame for the ludicrous amount of food in one place for one family.  It dawned on me how incredible blessed we are financially (even though we’re considered on the low end of middle class) and how pathetically selfish we have been with what we have been given.  We are spoiled beyond belief!  There really is no need for a family of four to have this much food – no reason at all, especially a family living in America where there is food everywhere.  It makes me think that I have my stomach set as a more important thing than the welfare of others or trusting in God to provide what we will need.  And if the truth be known, it’s really starting to show on me.  My tummy is becoming a visual representation of where I’m putting my trust.

I think that God is challenging me to really understand these verses from Matthew 6:

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (19-21)

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? (25-27)

Suddenly my desire to have a full array of choice dining options is tainting my thoughts about food.  Already my portions have gotten smaller, and my heart is lighter, knowing that I am in the position to help others in need.  And I really am enjoying the idea of being worry-free.

I truly believe that this “fever” to make a change in our dependence on the idea of having a lot of  food is God-given. I have high hopes that it’s something from which I will never be cured.

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I Cannot Tell A Lie

Well, that’s a lie. I totally can tell a lie with the best of them. If it were a sport, I could probably medal in it somehow.

What I should have said was I shouldn’t tell a lie. But there again, I do. Want a few examples? Of course you do. We all want to know that we’re not alone in the Liars Club, for which I have a lifetime membership with all the dues I’ve paid.

I lied when I said to my son, “I don’t know where that Happy Meal toy is.” I knew it was in the bottom of the trashcan.

I lied when I said to my kids, “Ummm, don’t come in here. Your dad and I are having a talk.” We might have been using our mouths, but it was for kissing and stuff… You know, married stuff. Talking wasn’t the gist of our meeting.

I told a bold-face lie when I told my kids, “Try it. You’ll like it.” Dude. It had lima beans. I won’t even like it.

I lied and didn’t even flinch when I said that the Thin Mints that I found in the freezer were too old to eat. They tasted mighty fine to me.

I told a whopper when I gave blood last night. I knew I was short a few pounds in weight to give blood so I rounded up. Hey, it was for a good cause.

I lied when I said, “We don’t have the money for that. Put it back.” We totally had the money. I just didn’t want to spend it on that product.

I lied when I told you that I was giving up Lost. I’m not giving it up. I’m just watching it when no little ears are around to ask, “Who’s Dammit?”

I lied to the kids when I told them that they had to go to bed early because they had been up late a few nights in a row. Seriously, I’m the one who needed to go to bed; they just had to do it first so that I could crash.

Don’t feel badly. I totally lie to myself too.

Gosh, I’m funny!

One bite won’t hurt.

I’ll fit into that dress again soon.

Today’s the day that I start walking again.

I’m not going to make up/eat a batch of cookie dough.

I’m not bummed at all about not winning a prize in the giveaway.

I’m going to make much better choices and not fall into that temptation again.

I don’t feel badly at all when my kids glare at me like I’m the meanest mom on earth.

So, in the spirit of making me feel a wee bit more normal, would you fess up? What have you lied about? Hey, you could totally lie about it, and I’d never know. See how easy it is?

(And I really don’t want to hear that you’re the perfect mom who doesn’t lie about a thing. That, my friends, would not make me feel better AT ALL. I’m being completely honest on that one.)

*This post is not an advocate for lying. You really shouldn’t. It’s just me holding up a mirror to myself and realizing that it’s a lot cloudier than it should be. No “you should know better” mail please. I’m just telling it like it is with me.

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Lost

About a year ago, Mr. Right and I finally let some friends of ours talk us into watching Lost.  They’ve been working on us since the show began, but we just don’t have the need to watch tv like most people.  After hearing all the glories of the show, we said okay and they let us borrow their Season One, and…

Oh. My. Lands!  was it good.  I think he and I watched the entire season in a few weeks, which is pretty good considering us.  The kids were too scared (as I knew they would be) to watch a show about a plane crash.  That’s not really a bad thing.  I didn’t want them watching it anyway.

At the beginning of summer and the kids were at Grandma and Grandpa’s house, I finally got Season Two from the library.  The good side was that I waited on a very long list to get that season and finally it was in my hot little hands.  The down side:  I had a week before it was due for the next person fill their need.

Mr. Right quit at about the fourth episode, but I persevered.  That puppy was fully watched and returned on time.

Not to be too far behind, I have been watching Season Three online for a awhile now.  I watched one now and then when I awoke at the zero dark thirty hours.  I finally finished up the last episodes of that season a couple of weeks ago.   Whew. I am up to date like everyone else at the beginning of Season Four.  Woo hoo!

I actually thought I had missed the premier.  I thought it was on Wednesday, but when a friend called last night and mentioned that the two hour season opener was going to be on in 40 minutes, I quickly hustled everyone; baths, Bible reading and bedtime routines were accomplished in record time!

Oh, what a huge disappointment to find out that the first hour was just a recap.  We did other things until the “real” show began.  Which was really good because it would be bedtime for The Boy by then… or so I thought.

The Boy quickly ran to his room, only to return immediately with a “gift certificate” that I had given him for Christmas.  It was the one that said he could stay up an hour late.  He wanted to read with his daddy.  That sounded like a good reason to me, so we waited for Mr. Right to get home from work.  He got home just as Lost was about to begin.

The Boy sat with me while Mr. Right was taking a few minutes to get settled.  He saw the opening of Lost, the part where Jack looks at the dead girl while talking on the phone to be rescued and then after hanging up, Jack says, “Damn it” and then looks around like he’s trying to figure out what to do. 

Before I have a chance to mute, to hustle him out or to talk about how that was bad language, The Boy innocently asks, “Mom, who’s Damn it?”

And that’s when it hit me that we’ve done such a thorough job of trying to keep only good things coming into the house that he doesn’t even know what many curse words are.  He knows it’s not pleasing to God when people say his name in vain and that we consider some name-calling words to be like curse words too, like stupid, idiot, moron.  And thanks to school and Ben 10, we’ve discussed how butt is to be used properly.  He is 8 after all.  I can’t prevent him from hearing everything.

But when I heard him ask that innocent question, I realized that I was completely at fault.  We have a rule that we don’t watch tv for a reason, and this was exactly why. In my excitement to watch the premier, I didn’t think about what he could see or hear.  My bad.  Very much my bad.

I explained to him that Jack shouldn’t have said those words because it was really a curse; then Mr. Right swooped in to save the day by taking him upstairs to read.

But I’ve decided one thing:  I’d rather lose Lost than to help my kids to get lost in this world.  

And I’m okay with that.  I can always watch the episodes online again if I feel the need to know, but right now, my need to know falls way short when compared to my need to be a great example to my kids.  

I find it amusing and fitting that these verses were among our reading last night.  I just didn’t realize at the time that they would be appropriate in more ways than one…

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. “And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.

“Woe to the world because of the things that cause people to sin! Such things must come, but woe to the man through whom they come! If your hand or your foot causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life maimed or crippled than to have two hands or two feet and be thrown into eternal fire. And if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell. “See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven. “What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, I tell you the truth, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost. Matt 18:1-14

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Speaking Out for She Speaks

I cannot tell you why I started Shalee’s Diner. It actually was a misunderstanding from the start.

All I wanted to do was leave a comment on Antique Mommy’s blog. That’s it. But being a novice at all things blogging, I did not realize that she had hers set to “No anonymous comments,” and eventually I wound up, unbeknownst to me, creating a blog just to say, “You crack me up!” or something equally riveting or intelligent.

(But God knows why.)

I cannot pull out detailed charts explaining a defined plan for the future of Shalee’s Diner. I don’t really have a description that even accurately describes this place I call home. Some days I have funny stories about marriage or life. Some stories are frustrations or moments of stupidity (mostly on my part). Some posts are about the wonders or dumbstruck moments that come with having children. Some days are tidbits of insight that God has let me glimpse when I least expect it, either through His Word, a life lesson or a friend. Some stories are about how God has hit me over the head with a 2×4 to say “I’m in control here. Your job is to breathe.” And yet, other stories are just about things that make the essence of life – like pies and really good books.

(But God has a plan.)

What I can say is that, for some reason, God has increased my desire to be in the blogosphere, writing for others and writing for myself, getting to know those who are in this mysteriously inviting place. He’s made me want to know people who are thousands of miles away and others who are next door. Oh the comradarie, the encouragement, the wisdom from others, the humor of you funny people! 

I’m becoming increasingly aware that though we are not all the same, we are all His. None are perfect, yet we all have been deemed worthy of being loved and to love. What I thought I knew so resolutely, God is softening my stubbornness into an open, receiving, teachable heart. As I let Him, I’m finding more and more of His wisdom and how little I know about so many things. These last two items, my friends, are very good things.

(God can reach even the likes of me.)

For these reasons, I ask to be selected for the scholarship that Lysa TerKeurst at Proverbs 31 Ministries is giving away for the She Speaks Conference in Concord, North Carolina on June 20-22. In attending this life-changing, information-filled, three day conference, I hope to learn how to better express in writing what is on my heart (no matter the subject), how to become a better spokesperson for God – in my successes and (more likely) my struggles and how to be able to spin a yarn and have readers say, “Yeah, I get that. Boy, do I hear you, sister!”  

And if truth be told, I also want to go so that I can make faces at Shannon, Big Mama and BooMama while they’re trying to be all business-like and serious as the Blog Speakers.  Well, Shannon will be all businessy, but I think my showing up will give Melanie and Sophie a real, live example of “What Not To Wear… Or Do With Your Hair”.  Heck, a run to Steinmart might even be in order once they get a good glimpse of me.

Getting them to crack a smile while talking to the crowd, now that would be like icing on this God-filled cake.  

Another reason I hope to be selected is that I’d like to bring my daughter for the Next Generation sessions of She Speaks Conference. The Girl is such a great example of “love with skin on” and has such a God-loving heart. For her to have these most excellent sessions so early in life (sessions that will encourage her, help her introduce Jesus to her friends and become comfortable/able to stand up for her beliefs that go against the norm) would be a gift that will keep on giving in the years to come. As a mom, I can think of no better thing for a daughter to learn, other than the true meaning of grace.

And lastly, to prove that I am in need of writing help, I can’t think of a great way to wrap up this post.  Surely listening at the feet of others with a bit more experience will keep these moments in check…  well, mostly anyway.  

I’m just asking for help here, not a miracle.  But I’d take one of those too.

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You’re Never Too Old

You’re never too old…

• To learn a new not-so-new lesson
• To enjoy your birthday
• To take a trip
• Make new friends
• To get a “talking to” from your mom

My mom called me yesterday to ask for a small bit of information for Christmas. She was short; she was crisp. She was mad. And I could tell from the word “Hello.” (Actually I knew she was mad awhile ago when my dad called me. I could hear her in the background, but she wouldn’t get on the phone to talk with me – a sure sign that something was wrong.)

I asked what she was thinking, knowing that whatever I was going to hear wasn’t going to be easy. She told me that she was mad at me because I’m too busy – too busy to call when someone has surgery, too busy to call to catch up with the family, too busy to ask about them and their concerns. Just too busy for them.

Here’s the hard thing: She was right, although I would rephrase it. I wouldn’t say too busy; I would say too forgetful. Too often I’m wrapped up in my own concerns, my own immediate family, my own scheduled life. I forget to care for or reach out to those who aren’t in front of me.

• I think two weeks out from someone’s birthday that I need to send a card and then it’s a week after the event that remember that I never followed through. 
• I hear of a prayer need and I pray for them, but I do a horrible job of following up. (Case in point: ever since my mom has had bladder problems and also the need to sell/rent house, it has been prayed for on a daily basis, but I haven’t called to ask how the prayers are being answered. And she can’t hear my prayers 1,000 miles away.)
• Often when I awake at zero dark thirty with a mind zooming, I think that I need to call about this or that, talk to so-and-so, take care of xyz, but I can’t do it at that moment because most people will slap me if I call at that awful hour or the store I need will not be open for another 4 hours. By the time I’m getting ready for work, I’ve already forgotten what it was that I was going to do. (And please don’t tell me keep a list. I usually lose that too. Seriously, I don’t know how I keep my job which requires me to be a fantastic organizer!)
• Heck, I usually can’t remember why I walked into a room half the time. I know I went in there for something…

But one thing I haven’t forgotten to do is to say “I’m sorry.”

Mom,

I’m sorry I’ve hurt your feelings. I’m sorry I’m so selfish and self-centered. I’m sorry you think I don’t care about you or the family by my lack of actions. I do care. I just don’t always show or tell you as much as I should. I’ll strive to be better about it starting now.

I do appreciate your telling me how you feel. I’d rather hear your disappointment than your silence any day. It’s good to know that I can still learn a lesson about what it means to be a family.

Love (no really!),

Shalee

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Missing The Give In Thanksgiving

I’ve gone back and forth with myself about posting this one. In the end, I realize that honesty really is the best policy. I’d rather show the real me than pretend that certain parts of me don’t exist. So here goes…

Well, let’s see… I’ve been pretty honest about me and my quirky adventures. It seems only fitting that I reveal some of the sad, ugly sides to me too. You might as well get the whole picture.

The weekend prior to Thanksgiving, I prayed that I would quit being so selfish and allow God to use my talents for his purpose. I didn’t even put a limit on it. I just said, “Here you go, God. Have at it and make me understand that it’s all a way of praising you.”

Don’t pray for things unless you really mean it.

Let me state from the beginning: giving is not one of my gifts. I’m terribly selfish and self-centered. I always have been; it’s been my lot in life. And before you tell me that I need to get over it, let me just say that this particular item is no stranger to my prayer list. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t seem to let God kick this one out for good. It’s my constant battle, my thorn in my side that makes me weep with shame and shake my head with disgust. But – I’m a work in progress; I know that with God nothing is impossible, no matter how long I battle with him about it.

Now imagine that this selfish being is married to a man with a passion for giving. He loves help others in whatever capacity that is needed – money, time, skills. He sees it as a calling and as a way to praise God. He looks for opportunities to give and give and give.

Can you imagine the rifts we can have in our house? And what’s worse is that I know that he is right 9.6 times out of 10 in all these circumstances. (I kept the .4 purely out of self-dignity. Feel free to round it up.)

The week before Thanksgiving I watched Mr. Right have a broken conversation with one of the deaf individuals in our church. Not just any individual, either – this woman is an 82 year old, single woman who lives in an apartment building where there are no other deaf people. She cannot drive, and she must use a walker to move from one place to another. She is poor and lonely and sweet as honey, and she needs company to know what it is to be accepted. I actually like her a lot.

After his conversation with her, Mr. Right told me that he wanted to invite her to our Thanksgiving. I knew it was coming. I could tell when I watched his face as he tried to communicate via finger spelling. I sighed. My first instinct was to say no. I made the statement that I knew it was a good thing to do, but trying to prepare an entire Thanksgiving meal with stops at signing was not going to make my holiday any kind of vacation for me. Since I would be the only one with the ability to sign, the burden of hosting and entertaining would fall onto me. Plus my in-awes were going to be there. He said that he heard everything said, but he felt that it should still be done. I did agree to it because if I were in her situation, I would want someone to take care of me as well.

Things really were okay with me until Mr. Right told me Wednesday night that she would at our place… for breakfast. That one sent me over the edge. Not only did he not ask if that timing would be okay, it stepped up my need to host from 11 AM to 8 AM. 8 AM… no one should have to be on duty that early unless it’s a mutual agreement, which this wasn’t. Can you imagine what kind of evening Mr. Right and I had after that? I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say that the love was not flowing that night.

The next morning did go well, despite my bad attitude on the inside. Mr. Right retrieved our friend and she enjoyed some fellowship with the family. My mother-in-awe helped immensely by having a writing conversation with her. Mr. Right stayed in the living room with her to talk with her. I just visited in spurts, signing when needed but otherwise staying in the kitchen. Really, they didn’t have much of a need for me, which was just as well since all I could think of was “the inconvenience” of the entire situation.

Was it really? No. That was just me being selfish with my time and refusing to use my hands for any good and encouraging purpose. Everyone was having a pleasant time watching the parade, eating and enjoying each other.

Later that day after our friend returned home, my mother-in-awe kept saying that she was so proud of us for opening our home like that – to be so willing to help someone out like that. Me? I kept saying that I deserved no thanks at all because my heart was so hard to the events of the morning and that it really couldn’t be considered any sort of good service on my part. What’s worse is that I did all this in the presence of my kids. You know they were picking up on quite a bit of things that were never said.

So that was the start to my Thanksgiving Day… which was a day with nary a thanks or a giving at all when seen from my heart. I’ve already talked with God about it, and I think I’m a bit more ready for the next time he actually takes me up on my offer to be of service to him. (I say that with hopes that I actually mean it. Surely I can’t keep making the same mistakes over and over again. I have to learn from them some time, right?)

I’m really holding fast to these verses:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Cor 12:9-10

His power is becoming more perfect all the time, especially where I’m concerned.

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