On My Mind: Being the Church and $$

Spending a whole year in James with the kiddos is very interesting. We move slowly through verse and yet circumstances/books/verses/discussions have all kept coming up through the seasons that add meat and complement to where we are in James. Hmmmm....

For example: one verse from Luke has really stuck with me since this past summer -
"When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, otherwise they may also invite you in return and that will be your repayment. But when you give a reception, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, since they do not have the means to repay you;"

In order to invite those in need, I have to see them. I have to have my eyes open, and have my eyes opened. As with most things in the past, when I pray ask God to lead me, He uses my willingness in ways in which I never would have imagined. This all then leads me back into James 2, where I am seeing that this whole living out of my faith is very personal, very in my face, very day-to-day. I know I have shown partiality, I know that I have overlooked those in true need. And then, of course, there's this:
"What use is it, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but he has no works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is without clothing and in need of daily food, and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, be warmed and be filled," and yet you do not give them what is necessary for their body, what use is that?"

Hello. Then this past week I read on Cindy's blog a very good commentary on something that Eric and I have always been troubled by: how are we showing partiality right in our church meetings? Our activities of fellowship? We have been on both ends: the ones who have been given bags of groceries or anonymous envelopes of money (tears of gratitude!) and the ones who were able to give. But aren't traditional churches set up these days in America to be prohibitive to giving to the poor right in their midst? If we are in the pew and get passed the plate, we are expected to put something in for the salary(ies), the electric bill, the missions to the poor that are "out there". Then everyone can meet at the restaurant after "church" for a great $40 fellowship meal. Isn't this part of the reason the truly poor and needy and invisible people stay "out there" and our church meetings have become so uniformly middle-upper class?

The Church (universal) has to be a safe place to come as we are. Our lives have to be opened to sharing the tangible gospel of Jesus Christ by living open, knowing that nothing is "mine", all is to be shared, given away, used up, including myself.

I.Am.So.Seasonal.

How could I ever live anywhere but the midwest? Would I survive? Would my seasons still feel like seasons if they didn't look like seasons?

In this, the dead of winter, I am hibernating, and it is good. I read deeply. I think and think and think. I crave learning new things because I have time. I clean things that were not touched through the entire fall sports season. Even as I get frustrated with inane tax codes and HSA babble, I love to do all the taxes and get the sense of great accomplishment when they are done. It makes me feel like I'm right back in the office with my dad, helping do the farm books in a warm house in the cold of winter (ok, this house is not warm like their house, but my extra slippers and sweaters compensate).

I find new music that will sustain me throughout the year, when I don't have time or the inclination to find it. I visit. I plan, and plan and plan. I cook differently -- everyone does this, right? I do not make my comfort-food-only-I-like-it-tuna-noodle in July. That is a winter food. We make soups and more breads, and casseroles and apparently, lots of things with melted cheese.

I have too many ideas, ways to make things better, ways to help, ways to get involved. Dangerous. Can I make it out of winter without having taken on so many things that I will kill my spring-summer-fall? As I am learning in every season, this means waiting on God, listening to the Spirit before I say yes or say my ideas out loud. My prayers, my trust deepens in the slow time of winter.

Trips to the library mean many evenings where all 7 of us have our noses in books and some music quietly playing. Or craft supplies left out for days. Piano practice and playing gets deeper and longer.

I love winter. I don't love it for it's cold and ice and gray days (although I do love it's annual bug-killing cycle, and how it rests the earth). I love it because of spring. How could there be spring without winter? How could I work hard without rest? How could I know joy without knowing sadness?

Given Time to Think...

When my parents had their own home built and we moved in, I was 6 years old. Nearly all of the 30+ years since, they have a had a couch in front of their big picture window in the living room. My favorite spot soon became a corner of whatever couch was there, staring out the big window. I would take breaks from reading whatever book I was in and daydream endlessly while looking at the weather...the landscape...the crops...my brother outside working while I was in a nice warm house.

I see a little Heather developing in Sara. Of course they all have been fascinated by the winter storm over the past few days, keeping me updated on every development and venturing outside at regular intervals yesterday to play hockey with duct tape and hiking sticks. But today it's too windy. It was starting to snow heavily, too, as Sara took advantage of a lull in schoolwork to sit on our couch and stare endlessly out the window at the "blizzard", the many downed limbs from last night, and the regular snow plows. I sat beside her quietly and we made occasional comments.

"That's really a lot of limbs down," she noted.

"Look at that wind whipping around the barn," I pointed out.

"I'm glad Jesse and I fed the cats before the snow came," she said.

"I"m so glad we're in here and not out there," I added.

We sat and just watched for a while more.

"God must have a big, big, big, big memory to figure out what each next snowflake is going to look like," Sara said quietly.

Amen, girl.

To Form a Habit

We have a room off of the back of the house, off the kitchen, that was built on by the previous owners. I understand it is called a "Florida" room. This is interesting to me because it only feels like Florida out there in the middle of summer here, which seems very unhelpful to me. Anyway.

The Florida room is where Eric decided to put the corn stove he built a few years ago to assist in the heating of our house. The stove heats water which then runs in lines through our furnace which pulls the heat out of the water and pumps it through our vents. He is working on getting more and more of the heat from the stove into the water lines, but because it really heats, the result is that the Florida room, when the stove is running, is toasty warm. When it is not running, you might as well be outside in that room.

Because of a redesign of the water tank, the stove has not been operational this fall/winter. Thus, once it got cold, my mantra began: "shut the office door" (Eric has his office out there). "Shut the door". "Don't forget to shut the door!" And etc. We keep most of the winter coats and boots out there because they were too big and bulky to be in the pantry, so every time they were getting their snow gear on, they had to be out in that room. "SHUT THE DOOR!"

So this past weekend, Eric got the corn stove going. Ahhhhhhh. And now the Florida room is warm. However, if you leave the door shut to the Florida room, it starts to feel like the equator out there and we don't get any of that great residual heat for the house. So -- you can see this coming, right? -- now that 3 months of constant repitition has finally sunk in, I have spent the last 3 days doing a 180: "open the door!" "Don't forget to leave the door open!" Jesse, who always takes the longest to remember a "rule", had just started shutting the door with consistency, oh, about last week.

Childhood can be so confusing.

January hike....check!

After a long day of auctions and errands...a snowy hike was the pefect antidote to a boring Saturday. Deciphering animal tracks ("are you sure that's not a bear, Dad?"), moments of silence to listen for what else might be in the woods besides our noisy selves, and, of course, being a little "lost" when mom and dad had a slight disagreement on which marker to follow (okay, okay...he was right!).

On the boardwalk before the "real" trail...

No, we're not cold!

In the Mind of a Cold 8-year-old

Our homeschooling lesson of the day, discussing which birds migrate south for winter, was perfect timing: the snow was coming down thick and we were cold.

"Geese. Ducks. Cardinals?" said Sara, with some uncertainty. Then, before Jesse could jump in with correction on what she knew was probably a wrong bird in that list somewhere, she continued proudly. "And they all fly in a 'V' shape as they go south, which stands for 'vacation.'"

Looking forward...

...in 2011 to:

- spending more time "learning" Jesse and Sara. Asking them to do more with us alone, so we can talk and see what is going on inside those heads. Not allowing Delaney and Levi to speak and decide for them as much.

- helping Eric work on his fish/greenhouse idea

- at least one family hike per month, with at least 4 new trails

- “When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and you be repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you." (Luke 14)

- paying. down. debt.

- writing more. I'm not certain yet of what this will look like, but I'm feeling the inclination. Should it be on here? Simply through the little PR/newsletter work I do? Something new?

- to be continued...