Work, Work, Work.

I subscribe to a number of blogs.  Most are artistic, many are money-saving.  One of the artistic ones today was about the loss of the "trophies" of life, those accomplishments and people to whom we can point and be proud.  All the "look what I did" things.  You can find it here:  Little Apartment on the Prairie

She referred her readers to another blog, saying "This post inspired and touched my heart this week: When Your Trying To Get Your Priorities Straight, in fact it's going on my fridge."

And here is that post:  Holy Experience

I was a young mom like these two women, and I remember what it was like.  My house was busy and loud.  There was laundry and housework and meal preparation and dishes and baths . . . this endless doing of the necessary things in my family's life.

"I was made for this," I thought.  And I was.  I was good at it, and I enjoyed it.  I still do. Having said that, I must admit that I am a horrific housekeeper.  I still love that old saying "Hush up, cobwebs, dust go to sleep.  I'm rocking my baby and my baby won't keep."

We are made and created to worship and love God.  We miss so much of the unseen world because we simply can't see it.  It is beyond the physical realm of the world in which we live, so the great challenge is to strive to see that unseen place.  We can only do that via Jesus, and this draws us back to Him over and over again.

It's easy to say that because these higher callings are so important, the work should usually go by the wayside.  By that I mean not that we let our homes dissolve into chaos -- rather, I just mean letting "work" take last place in our view of our priorities.  As usual, it's much easier to sway from one extreme to the other, instead of trying to find the balance between the two.

But I think work is right up there with those higher callings.  God gave us work; it is the thing that keeps us engaged and learning and involved and interested, and even connected to each other.  I believe there will be work in heaven.  The word gets such a bad rap -- "work" -- as if it's always hard.  But it can be incredibly rewarding.  I remember doing laundry in the basement of the house, folding and matching endless pairs of little socks.  And when it was all done, I had a deep, incredibly wonderful feeling of accomplishment.

I connect with God through worship.  He meets me there and fills me up.  I could never do without that, without pursuing a life of adoration and worship for Him.  But . . . I also glorify Him for giving me work.  Working with my hands and accomplishing something is simply doing what He has made me to do.  It's like a child looking up at a parent, and when we do it well, God is as pleased with us as we are with ourselves.  It's all good.

We must be careful because we are compelled to measure.  And measuring only gains us meaningless trophies.  I loved seeing all that laundry done -- but it wasn't really something I thought should be reported on the nightly news.  It's just laundry, after all.

But it was my work.  And I did it well, and God was just as pleased then as He is when I look up and praise Him or pray or ponder the unseen world.

Oh, the love of God and the balance to which it challenges us.  Talk about work.

xoxoxox

Socks and Jots and Tittles

Do your kids match their socks?

I wonder if it has become the fashion these days to purposely mismatch socks. Or maybe it's just my kids who do it. As long as the socks are the same basic color, they don't seem to mind if they don't match. In fact, now that I think about it, they don't even have to be the same basic color.

I have five kids, so I have spent a fair amount of my life matching up the socks, primarily in the whites load. So I get a little OCD about strays; for this reason, I have created the Stray Sock Box.

And we just moved, so I have no idea where the Stray Sock Box actually is. In fact, I have strays that may have no match in my known laundry universe at all. The girls all do their own laundry these days, so a stray sock could be anywhere. I used to be able to move furniture and find them. But no more -- that would be an invasion of privacy, and honestly, about half the time now I didn't even buy the socks.

But socks are always being borrowed from me. So going to find strays is a slippery slope at the very least.

This morning I was folding laundry and this whole issue arose. My Sock OCD kicked in. Where are the matches to these strays? Should I even care? Why not buy more socks? Is there a sock overload in our landfills today? How many holes does a sock have to have before it's ok to throw it away?

I have been reduced to jots and tittles. I am a Sock Pharisee.

I am thanking God that His mercies are new every morning. I think I will look into a 12-step program -- maybe find a Sock-Matchers Anonymous that I can join.

xoxoxox

In Search of The Theory of Everything

I like to explore ideas about the origins of the universe. String theory, black holes, gravity -- they all hold great interest for me. I'm not exactly sure why. My mom just shakes her head.

And yes, I know I'm a total geek.

Geekiness aside, all these subjects make for some good thinking. I like to think about things. While Hunk O Man needs music or conversation while driving on a long trip, I can drive in total silence, just thinking.

Something occurred to me yesterday as I was getting out of the shower. It seems we keep backing up in our theories. By "backing up" I just mean that we explain a small thing, then a microscopic thing, then things we can't see at all, then things that are even smaller and theoretical, and even smaller things that can only be proven mathematically. String theory seems to be at the base of all the small things. Currently, it's the most popular way to explain what makes up everything in the universe.

Nice theory. Except, what makes up the strings? Well, that's a long explanation having to do with scientific things that you don't really care about.

And in light of this, an idea occurred to me: what if asking what strings are made of isn't the right question? What if "what is the origin of the universe?" is the wrong question?

I realise that I'm coming from a fundamental viewpoint of God having created the world. So for me, that begs the question -- what is the right question to ask?

All I can come up with so far is simply this question -- "God, who are You?"

The nice thing is that I can pursue that question to no end, and I know how to do it. I don't need to know high-level mathematics and I don't have to be Einstein. I just need to know how to read a bible and how to pray. The God of the universe will allow me to know what I am capable of knowing. And exploring a relationship is infinitely easier than exploring a theory.

And isn't it just like God to make it that simple?

I Corinthians 1:18-20 (NIV):

¹⁹For it is written:
"I will destroy the wisdom of the wise;
the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate."

²⁰Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?

Dear God,

Who are you? I really want to know.

Love,

jen

xoxoxox