The Enchanted Home is Authentic, Artistic, and Sometimes Even Boasts the Best-Ever Molasses Cookies

~ Bev Parker ~ Leave a comment

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We forgive people who decorate in colors we abhor, with “style” we can’t fathom, using cat-clawed and dog-scratched furniture, if their homes are authentic.  If we have to hide a smile at some of the wild colors, particularly those in hues of sunshine, we will overlook what we consider a decided lack of taste and sophistication.

Conversely, walls of flawless beige, trimmed in pristine white, surrounding us and brand new-looking sofas set just so before “modern” décor atop ice-cold coffee tables make us wonder, “Is this a home or a statement?”

Does your house scream your lack of identity, thereby stealing your guests’ senses of identity as well, or does your house say “I’m OK, You’re OK. I didn’t invite you here to impress you, I invited you here because I value you enough to open my home, and therefore my heart.”

An authentic home has heart—it’s owner’s. An unauthentic home hides its heart behind its façade. It’s sad enough that we sometimes feel we must wear the façade in public, but at home we must take off the mask.

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Does that mustard yellow throw your grandma made embarrass you? That’s a good reason to put it on the couch, front and center. Do you have a secret love for that hideous orange ottoman from the 50’s, and does it match absolutely nothing else in your living room? Go with it and add a bouquet of flowers with a bit of that same orange. You’ve shown yourself and your guests just a little bit of your heart. And you’ve given them art.

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But what will your guests think, especially the world travelers with such cool stuff? They’re on their way. You look around, asking yourself What does this look like to other people.

Dirty for starters. You can wash those awful smears off the patio doors, or make molasses cookies and put on a bright and crazy shirt. You guessed it. If this guest is a mom, she’ll either feel greatly relieved that other people have nasty doors, too, or she’ll feel superior because hers are clean. Let her feel superior. Authentic people make those kinds of sacrifices. Just be sure your cookies are better than hers. Just kidding. Sort of.

How to make great molasses cookies? Use the recipe on the molasses jar, only double (I did say double) the molasses and the spices and the salt. Also use real butter and/or coconut oil instead of shortening. Then make them awesome with lots of raisins and walnuts. For even better results (and healthier cookies) use half whole grain flour and half unbleached white flour, instead of the standard bleached white flour, and last of all, use a non-GMO organic sweetener. I like organic light brown sugar by Wholesome. Also, even when the recipe doesn’t call for it, I like a little vanilla flavoring in my molasses cookies. But I think it’s safe to say they’re wonderful without vanilla.

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P.S.  These aren’t actually my cookies.  I’ll post them when I make them – closer to Christmas!

yellow castle picP.P.S.  This isn’t actually my house, but I’ll definitely post it if I get it for Christmas!

Real Men

~ Bev Parker ~ Leave a comment

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I nominate my dad for sweetest and handsomest dad and my kids nominate him for best grandpa ever.

If I had to describe my dad in one word it would be “kind.”

I said to my kids (not telling them my word), “I want you to tell me the first word that comes to your mind to describe your grandpa.”

“Stalwart,” Rebekah answered.

“Kind,” said Seth.  “That’s the first word I thought,” Hannah agreed.

I think those two words are what every dad and grandpa should be:  kind and stalwart. 

And if he has giant dimples and an ever-present grin, well that’s just gravy.

My Child was Sad, and that was BAD

~ Bev Parker ~ Leave a comment

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There was lots of fun stuff happening, and I was loving every single minute of it, except when I looked at Rebekah’s tight, sad, face.  I gave her hugs, I asked her if she was OK, I mentioned it to John (husband/dad), and I queried her siblings, “Do you know what’s bothering Rebekah?”  I gave her more hugs (she seemed to want lots of them) and finally, I prayed.

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Rebekah is a writer, and we’ve had an ongoing issue about her using up school, chore, family and personal time on the computer–not writing, but looking up and reading about the somewhat ridiculous antics of various celebrities.  Recently when I asked her if she was writing she fibbed to me about it.  I don’t mind lies as much as I mind a child acting like I am the village idiot.  “Shut the laptop,” I instructed firmly.  “Do NOT get back on there until I say so.  You can write in longhand on your legal pads for now.”

And I went about the business at hand: celebrating:  Hannah was born on my and John’s anniversary and this year was, as all years, a celebration of the unmerited, beyond-all-I-could-ever-ask-or-think-or-imagine LOVE of Jesus.  Still, I noted and pondered and watched the expressive and beautiful face of Rebekah.

Hannah had her birthday date with John, John and I had our anniversary date, we celebrated both with a steak dinner and birthday/anniversary party, I went on my Hannah date, and finally, last night about midnight, Hannah, John and Seth were off to bed, and Rebekah found her way to a bit of quiet with me.

“Mom,” she said, “I got on YouTube today.  And yesterday. And the day before.”

“Why?” I said a bit sharply, reluctantly looking up from watching Creflo Dollar teaching about what the Bible says about speaking in tongues (very interesting stuff).

She looked utterly miserable and I was filled with compassion.  I scooted over on the couch and told her to come curl up next to me.  I took her in my arms and kissed her head.  “Rebekah, God forgives me absolutely when I make a mistake, and I forgive you absolutely.”

She began to cry, and I recognized that look, the sound of those sobs:  I try and I try and I just can’t seem to do what I say I will do.  I’m such a loser, blah, blah, blah.

“It’s OK, Sweetheart,” I told her.  “Tomorrow we will talk and pray and make a plan about exactly what you want to be learning and doing and enjoying.  I want to see you practicing your violin.  Do you want that?”

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She began to cry again.  “I don’t know why I haven’t been doing that.”  Back to the self-chastisement, the recriminations and condemnation.

I was inspired as I thought of the “roaring success”  of breakfast (cooked by her and her brother, Seth, while Hannah and I were gone).  “There’s no reason you and I can’t cook more together (she loves doing things with me).  We’ll put that on our petition of things we want to learn and do.  Now, you just don’t worry about anything at all.  We’ll work everything out tomorrow.”

She was still curled up next to me, in my arms.  She sat up.  “I feel better now.”

I did a few things right:  I paid attention to my child, amidst all kinds of diverting activities; I responded correctly to all those hug requests; I shared my concerns with other family members, so that everyone would be kind, aware that “something’s bothering Rebekah”; I made myself available; I listened and suggested solutions, and she listened to me, because of the most important thing of all:  I said, GOD FORGIVES YOU ABSOLUTELY AND I FORGIVE YOU ABSOLUTELY.

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The Bible tells us that it’s His kindness that leads to repentance.  In receiving His kindness, we are able to extend kindness to our children and to our mates, and to ourselves.  Let’s do it! Amen.

Me, the “Ignorant Bigot Hater” whose Christianity is “a Joke”

~ Bev Parker ~ Leave a comment
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Dear Reader,

I awoke at 4:30 a.m. with a familiar rant running through my head, one that’s been there since recently delivered unjust allegations.  As I came awake, my mind took me scene to scene through what I might call, “A History of Lesbian Aggravations and Insults in My Life.”  So, here goes.

One of the many benefits of getting a few years under the belt is the slow down in being hit on.  By other women, that is.  Men are much too gentlemanly, in general, to caress the calves of women in the gym whose names they don’t even know.  They generally hesitate to, in the guise of a nurse trying to help a new mother breast feed her baby, get way too involved in “helping” her baby latch on.  I have never had a man sit down, uninvited, in my living room and try to convince me my “lifestyle” is inferior to his, nor corner and come on to me in a swimming pool as did the wife of a former boss (while he sat poolside, obviously mortified).  None of my male college professors ever gave me an “F”  on a paper simply because I wouldn’t come around to his way of thinking.  A man has never tried to turn fellow employees against me because I am so obviously heterosexual and in love with my husband.  No man has ever followed me around like a hungry dog after saying to others, “I can turn anyone gay.”  In short, I am not “ignorant” (as I was recently called) of the aggressive, pushy, IGNORANT ways of many lesbian women.

Nor do I “hate” them.  It was a lesbian woman who sat at my table .lamenting the women at her office who never shut up, who never stop griping, about their husbands and kids.  She wept as she said, “I’d give anything to have a husband and kids to gripe about.”  It’s been years, but still I pray for her to have those heart’s desires.  It was a “bisexual” woman being persecuted (a mild way of putting it) by a group of lesbians, who actually fell into my arms as she reached my front door and safety.  Sobbing, she begged to come in.

It was a lesbian woman who (temporarily) came between a best friend and me, and it is a lesbian who is aggressively and unceasingly striving to destroy her own sister’s marriage to the point the husband is crying out for help.  How, in fact, does one fight such a vitriolic force?  In the spirit realm, that’s where.

I’ve had much more pleasant dealings with gay men than with lesbians.  In fact, I was once madly in love with a gay man.  He has since come out of that lifestyle, in spite of all the propaganda that says it’s not possible, and has a beautiful and adoring family.

Not so another gay man, one I dearly loved my entire adult life.  He recently took his life.  In all the rantings about homeosexuality, certain things never seem to see the light of day, such as the suicide rates of homosexuals.  Really?  You really think this is because of persecution from “ignorant bigots” like me?

I don’t persecute my gay friends.  I listen to them.  Without exception they were raped as children or young men.  Without exception they want to be free.  I did not say that this is true of the entire homosexual community.  It is, however, true of my friends.

Noticing the interest of one such friend (I’ll call him George) in a lovely young woman, I teased him.  “George is going straight,” I said.

He turned mournful eyes to me.  “I can’t go straight.”

“Why not?”

“Who would go out with me?”  (This was in the 80’s and at the height of AIDS awareness).

“Would you?” he persevered.

No, because I am not interested in AIDS, thank you.

I stood, mute, having no idea what to say.

“See,” he said sadly.

I was caught unaware and unable to answer what I would now:  “First of all, George, Jesus would go out with you.  He LONGS to go out with you, to bring you out, to heal you and help you and love you.”  And when George tried to shoot that down (he was molested by a priest and didn’t think too highly of God) I would show him beautiful scriptures about what was accomplished on the Cross and show him how it’s the enemy of our souls who brings shame and guilt and despair.  “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” would be right in there with God’s love, love, love.  I would take him to the book of John, chapters 14 through 17, and read them aloud with him.

And, I would explain how the enemy works.  John 10:10 tells us the thief comes to steal and to kill and to destroy, but that I (Jesus is speaking here) have come that you might have abundant life. And I would prove with scripture and my own checkered past and subsequent deliverance and healing (if I had to go there) how God calls sin those things which expose us to the enemy.  Beginning with (you thought I was going to say homosexuality) unforgiveness.

“George,” I would say, “You have a soul tie to that priest, and to the nasty accusations of the enemy, by the SIN of unforgiveness.  Like it or not, forgiveness is key.  Who must he first forgive?  Again, I think you didn’t guess it.  It’s not the priest.  It’s his parents who didn’t protect him, and who haven’t forgiven him (or so he thinks).  And it’s himself.  I wish I had shared the trick I use against Satan when I feel shame and guilt:  In the midst of my sin I say aloud, “I am the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus.”  I would explain how this appropriates what Jesus did on the Cross covering all, even MY horrid sins, unto me, thereby strengthening myself against that sin.  I wouldn’t give up until George understood that guilt and condemnation are from Hell and they keep us there.  “George,” I would say, “The Word says Satan is the accuser, the deceiver, the Father of Lies.”  God says you are loved and you are forgiven.  Get loose of your pride that makes you think your sins are special.  Stop insulting the Blood of Jesus with your refusal of it!”

But I wasn’t that good a friend to George.  Nor was I to other gay men in later years.  When Chuck told me about his mother’s unending and all-consuming money ambitions, which included taking in foster boys who were unsupervised as she pursued other career goals (he was repeatedly raped by older, stronger boys) I never said what he gave me opportunity after opportunity to say.  I never said, “I love you and Jesus loves you.  And you MUST forgive, even as Christ forgave and continues to forgive you.  Forgive your parents, your abuser, YOURSELF.  Remember, Chuck, the Bible says when we confess our sins God puts them as far from us as the east is from the west.  Did you hear me, Chuck?  The Word of our Maker says He will remember our sins no more.  Chuck, that hopelessness you’re feeling is from your enemy.”  But again, I said nothing at all.

And so Chuck, like so many other victims (by the way, Chuck’s mom was a Christian) gets his “encouragement” from people who “support” his “lifestyle choice”.  I recently started reading a book by a man who had some good things to say, until he got to the part about all the calls he gets from suicidal homosexuals.  He blames society, especially Christians, for the misery of these men, telling everyone who calls and who reads his book that there’s nothing wrong with homosexuality, and that they should accept who they are.

Let’s get one thing straight.  In our Maker’s eyes (and He should know) we are not defined by our hang-ups, our addictions, our sexual habits.  Promiscuous women are not sluts, people who drink too much are not alcoholics, those who struggle with substance abuse are not drug addicts, people who can’t seem to stop throwing their money away at casinos are not gamblers, and people who engage in homosexual behaviors are not gays and lesbians.  Yes, that’s what we call them, what we label them, how we define who they are.

This is unkind, to put it mildly.  Notice how the enemy works here.  People who beat cancer are told it’s “in remission.”  People who stop drinking are told, “Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.”  Women who struggle with promiscuity say, “I just have to stay away from men and dating because I have this problem.”  I agree that staying away from dating might be a start, especially if that time is spent pursuing the love of Jesus, but it’s not fully accepting the freedom bought on the Cross.  “Free indeed,” is how it’s described.

The truth is that we were all fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God.  Because I told a fib when I was five, does that mean I am a LIAR, and never to be otherwise?  No, as the Word of God says, all things are possible for those who are in Christ Jesus.  If your past is keeping you down (usually from unforgiveness) dare to listen to the loving words of an “ignorant, bigot, hater” like me, one whose Christianity is “a joke.”

I am not ignorant, either of sin’s pain, the enemy’s devices, or the Hell on earth of bondage to sexual sin.  I am not a hater, except of Satan and his lies.  If “bigot” means someone whose mind can’t be changed, perhaps I am that.  My mind cannot be changed in that I love sinners with the very love of Christ (beginning with myself).  I, like the Apostle Paul, was and often still am, a chief of sinners.  And I, like Paul, PRAISE GOD FOREVER, have been delivered from real bondage through the love of Christ.  Not religion.  Just Jesus.

As for my Christianity being a joke – people who have been delivered from underneath the pit of Hell do not joke about Jesus.

Thanks for listening.

Love,

Bev

P.S.  For real insight into this subject from someone who was a lesbian for 14 years and is told and re-told the lie (from “professionals”), “Once a lesbian, always a lesbian,” consider the books and website of Janet Boynes.  And for help with forgiveness check out Dr. Caroline Leaf’s Who Switched Off My Brain?

P.P.S.  If you don’t want insight and help, but can’t wait to hurl insults at me, beware.  I and my family pray for everyone who persecutes me, and let me tell you, once we start praying for you, you’ll get mighty itchy trying to stay in bondage.  Amen and Hallelujah for your freedom!

The “Art” of Home Education

~ Bev Parker ~ 1 Comment

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“What should I do with him today?” Hannah asked this morning, regarding her babysitting charge.  “I’ll think on that,” I said, knowing Hannah was talking as much to herself as to me, and would as usual come up with something on her own.

Still, I pondered her question because I said I would, and then later called her.  “I know what you can do.  Google a recipe for finger paints, then let him do something like the horse Seth did with finger paints when he was about that age.”

“Oh, God,” Seth moaned in the background (he now thinks that marvelous painting is awful).  “Thanks, Mom, that’s what I’ll do!” was Hannah’s more gratifying response.

It doesn’t matter what Seth thinks about that painting, or that he doesn’t understand why his dragon water color has a place of honor (more on that place later) or that Benjamin wishes heartily that I take down his crayon drawing of his battle horse, “Ready”, or that Hannah disagrees entirely with my assessment that her quilt horse pencil drawing is pure joy (I even have candles to match it).  Rebekah’s most prized artwork (in my view) is her picture of me (I have a crown on my head and a hugely smiling, bright red mouth and am wearing a low-necked turquoise dress), and she’s the only child who never complains about it being on the wall for all the world to see.

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Yes, there was plenty of art that never made the frame, never graced our walls, some of it long gone, others in folders stored away.  And I do have artwork that was done by “professionals”.  But none of it has ever elicited the interest, the smiles, even the joy brought by the works of my children.  ‘Real” art has never made John say, as he did about Seth’s 4-year-old finger-painted horse, “Don’t ever take that down.  It makes me smile every time I look at it.”  Me, too.  Even now.

Hannah, in entertaining her charge last week, sculpted a cat for me, as he created for his mom.  Hannah wrapped her creation carefully in toilet paper, sat down beside me on the couch when she got home, and said, “I know you are the one person who will appreciate this.”  She unwrapped the cat, and just as she knew I would be, I was delighted.  The cat (not named yet, am waiting to get to know him/her) sits in a place of honor on my dresser.

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As to Seth’s dragon painting’s place of honor, it sits in front of the TV, effectively hiding the hideous thing from view.  TV can be the greatest enemy of creativity, of family life, of art appreciation.

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In all our travels the kids have never been allowed to watch movies or play video games rather than enjoying the scenery (they can read if they like).  Nature’s art speaks to our hearts whether we’re on the Oregon coast or at the highest spot we can climb to in Rocky Mountain National Park, or amid the Sugar Maples during Fall in the Ozarks, or on a desolate stretch of desert highway.  Appreciation and understanding of God, that’s what art can give us.  Real art.  Art from the heart.

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Exhortation of creativity is one of the hallmarks of good home education.  Good home education produces children who are highly individual, and yet uniquely qualified to contribute to the greater good. Such as in creating artworks that are also mementos.  Such as taking the time to ponder what will bring joy to the heart of a child when babysitting.

A little child will lead you.  When Seth first tried to draw dragons, I bought a little book entitled, “How to Draw a Dragon” (or something like that).  When Rebekah wasn’t all that keen on drawing, I bought books on how to draw horses (she was very keen on horses).  Hannah’s interest in water colors was fueled by a local water color class.  For Benjamin, I simply kept plenty of pencils, pens, and paper on hand, as his art was mostly props for his writing.  If he was creating a battle scene, he would go outside, build a city, enact the battle with the wooden sword and shield John made one year for his birthday, come back inside and sketch out further details, and return to his writing (fantastic writing by the way).  My small contribution was making a hauberk, helping John with the finishing touches on the shield, and saying, “Absolutely!!!” when John asked if I thought he should add a battle axe to the weaponry.

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Home education, done in love’s rhythms and graces, can make learning an enchantment of  color and light and joy.  An art, in other words.

Yay! Chapter 3 of The Maker’s Marriage

~ Bev Parker ~ Leave a comment

“A wholesome tongue is a tree of life: but perverseness therein is a breach in the spirit.” – Proverbs 15:4

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“Beverly has got her a good man.”—Leona Webb, my grandmother, upon watching John do his usual stellar job in changing Rebekah, using his perfectly folded cloth diaper. I store up and call on such memories any time the enemy of my soul tries to make me discontent. And, what’s more, I share such stories. I brag on my man.

3 – Them Positive Confessions

 First Words Count Bigtime

       Her name was Sharon, and she was an obvious and victorious Christian. She was my beautiful and joyous neighbor, striding across the parking lot on her husband’s arm. When she asked how things were going, my litany of defeat was the wrong answer. “Oooh, Girl,” she said, “Quit makin’ them negative confessions!”

Your first words, in any situation, set the tone; they give the invite—either for blessing or breaking, for life or for death. Deuteronomy 30:19 tells us, “I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live.”

Look at the following two scenarios and then determine which one sounds more like my friend Sharon’s probable response to any marital discord:

  1. “That’s it. I’ve had it. I don’t have to listen to this crap.”
  2. Long and deep breath, concentrated thought and internal prayer. Father, you promised me wisdom. Help me to understand what’s really going on here. Help me to see my mate as you see him. Give me the words. Speak through me, Holy Spirit.

Incidentally, Sharon had a special place in my heart simply because she was the wife of an OU football player.

“Who cares?” you say. “How is OU football relevant?”

Do you not know? Have you not heard? OU football is relevant to all things, especially my and John’s first argument.

We were having Thanksgiving at my dad’s and we ruined it for everyone, arguing over Oklahoma vs. Arkansas football. When John started badmouthing the Sooners and I came right back with cut-to-the-bone remarks about the Razorbacks (to which John said I was just as obnoxious as any other Sooner fan). We knew nothing about the power of first words. We were simply focused on having the last word.

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Recently John and I got a little tiny bit crossways over the care and cleaning of wooden cutting boards. When he responded to my learned wisdom with an unbelieving “Who told you that?” my mind instantly went into turbo-charged overdrive. But right in the middle of the thoughts, I think I know a little more than you about a few things, and I am not the village idiot, and I don’t have to give you chapter and verse, I put on the brakes and started trying to see things his way. He does not think I’m the village idiot. After a few moments wherein he picked up his book and began pretending to read as I watched and tried not to grin, he looked at me and grinned back.

Who, really, gives a flying flip about the care and keeping of wooden cutting boards? I do, I do, I do. I’m right. Go find the info on the Net and prove it to him. Or just shut up, give him a hug and let God handle it.

If it turns out John is right (using harsh soap and hot water and scrubbing my lovely boards) I will simply smile and say, “Well, Honey, I should have known you were right. What was I thinking? Where do I sign up for the Germophobe Club?” He’ll then give me a bear hug and call me a smartass and wonder why he ever thought he could have the last word. I just can’t lose, really. And neither can he.

Oh, you want to know the details, so you can see who’s right and who’s wrong? After all, you say, “There are different protocols for cleaning up after raw chicken as opposed to chopped walnuts!” The point is simply, “Are we really going to get crossways over this?” If pride’s on board (giving Satan legal access) then yes, we will get crossways. Two people cannot live together in real harmony of spirit when pride is in operation. Pride’s presence will result in both people thinking and saying “I” and “me” thoughts.

John and I once cooked dinner for a young couple with two little ones (one a newborn), and were enjoying their company immensely. But when the toddler got stinky there was an immediate battle about who would change him. I empathized with the stay-at-home mom who, when the husband said it was her turn, came back with, “I’ve been changing him all day. It’s your turn.”

In John, I am blessed to have a husband who wanted his turn, who was smart enough to know I had gotten my fill of “turns.” But still, when my babies were wet or dirty, I just handled it. Whoever found it, whoever was closer, took care of it. We looked at caring for our children as a duty and a privilege, and as a joint and joyous effort. It was not a competition in laziness.

Of course, I wasn’t always so sharp. In fact, I was more than a bit overwhelmed with my firstborn, Vann. My dad came by to check on us when Vann was three weeks old. He found Vann crying in my arms as I wailed and dropped tears all over my baby’s sweet head. “One of you,” Dad said, “is going to have to be an adult.” Not me, I immediately thought. I looked down at my child. Oh.

In those days I was truly on my own, except for the blessed weekends when Dad bought my gas so I could go home to Mom. It was a tough job, but there was no alternative. One of us, as a wise man once said, had to be an adult.

What does that look like? First of all, let’s establish the fact that adult behavior very often has an inverse relationship with age. I have numerous memories of adult and responsible behavior as a child and as a teen, and even more memories of being a brat at age 45. Adult behavior begins with yielding to Jesus, and therefore operating in the fruit of the Holy Spirit. Childish behavior whines, “I want what I want and that’s the end of it.” Adult behavior has the sense to know that first words set the tone, that first words are irretrievable, that the other person (remember, that mate God gave you to love, honor, cherish, bless, and fight for?) will be affected for good or for evil, depending on the words chosen.

First words go along with first actions. You will not get good actions in tandem with bad words. You will not rub your mate’s shoulders at the same time you say, “I hate your sorry self.”

Oh, you know all this, but you just can’t seem to stop with the harsh and hurtful words and ways? Jesus is the only permanent and complete solution to evil. And words that invite the devil to come on in and take up residence in your home are evil.

Again and as always, Jesus is the solution. To be more specific, the unconditional love, grace, kindness, goodness, forgiveness, and mercy of Jesus in you, will cause you to pass these things on to your mate. If Jesus doesn’t have your heart, if you haven’t accepted the gift of His love for you, if you aren’t spending time with Him every single day, then every time a problem or issue comes up, you’re in for it.

How much time with Jesus? That depends on how skilled you want to be in the fine arts of love and marriage. How much victory do you want?

Maybe your marriage is a battlefield. Change your weapons. In order for there to be Strife (remember Strife’s attendant putridness—confusion and every evil work?) you must be using the wrong weapons and fighting the wrong enemy. Repeat after me: “My mate is not the enemy. My mate is my mate.”

Words, particularly first words, are weapons, for good or for evil. Make up your mind for once and for all that your words will be weapons for good. And since we know from the Book of James that no man (in his own strength) can tame the tongue, you must harness yours to the Holy Spirit and get out of God’s way.

Yes, I know the pressure, the temptation to say what you’re feeling, is almost unbearable. I know when you manage not to go ballistic on your mate, you feel you have to tell someone. But resist! This is hazardous to the health of your marriage. The only one you can always safely tell is Jesus, and even then you must muzzle your tongue.

Satan can and will use everything you say against you. He’s the one pressuring you—endlessly, maddeningly—pushing, taunting, and provoking.

I remember once, long ago, when I decided to have a TV fast (the kids were little and I was beginning to use TV as a sitter) and I put the TV in the garage. The reactions were interesting. John didn’t care, the kids didn’t care. I, however, was consumed with a desire to watch all the Rocky movies. I couldn’t think of anything else. Well, I was smart enough (if barely) to recognize where this pressure and temptation came from, and to laugh at it. Note: If you laugh at the demons hissing in your ear, they will cease.

When I recognize fearful and untrue thoughts as what they are—lies, and refute them aloud with the truth (scripture), just as promised, the devil flees (“Therefore submit to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you.” – James 4:7). When I eat half a jar of fudge sauce straight from the fridge and thoughts of defeat, recrimination and disgust come at me, I say, “I am the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus.” I’m choosing to believe II Corinthians 5:21 – “For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.” This doesn’t mean I particularly approve of my behavior, but let me tell you this one thing: If I’m going to speak someone else’s words about me, that someone is not going to be Satan.

Who’s Using Your Words?

Remember, the words you speak will determine your actions. You’d better make sure they’re words of life and love and light. The words you speak will be used by God to make a way for His will, or they will be used by the Great Deceiver. First, he will pressure you into saying them (“Go ahead and leave, see if I care,” is a good example of words from Hell), and then he will convince you of your right to say them, and soon you’ll actually believe them. Of course, when the inevitable regret sets in, he’ll get you with shame and condemnation.

But if you know Jesus, if you meditate on His Word, you will be strong in His love, and able to refuse the enemy’s guilt trip. You will understand how guilt strengthens sin’s power over you.

I rejoice when I read Paul’s words about this shame-obliterating love in Romans 8:38, 39 – “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Eventually, as you spend increasing time in the Word and in prayer, you’ll recognize thoughts that aren’t life thoughts, and when you feel the pressure to say what should not be said, you’ll be able to say life words back to the death words—you’ll know in an instant to take those thoughts captive (Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ – II Corinthians 10:5). You’ll be so in tune with the Holy Spirit that at the first hint of stress, you’ll be able to recognize and deal with its source.

The Fruits of the Spirit will become your weapons, your antidotes. When hateful thoughts come, you’ll counter and defeat them with Love (the really big gun!). When sorrow comes you’ll regain your strength by calling on Joy. Peace will annihilate worry, and impatience will give way to the formidable force of Patience. Rather than driving your mate away from the love of Christ with unkind words, Kindness will make both of you victorious! And rather than being a “control freak” (who is actually someone out of control), Self-control will rule you to such an extent that you won’t even notice the misbehaviors of others (except to pray POWERFUL prayers for them). Your weaknesses will become strengths.

The enemy of our souls attacks us when we’re weak, and in our weak spots. But we can look at these attacks as signposts, pointing us to the areas needing our attention, our nurturing, and concentrated prayer efforts.

Take Joy, for instance. The joy of the Lord is our strength, as we know from the Word, and from experiencing the power we feel when we’re joyous. Because I’m naturally a happy person, I don’t accept a lack of joy as normal. Do I still have to fight for my Joy? Absolutely! Because Joy is so important to a Home Maker’s success, the enemy will steal it if at all possible.

Do I walk in the Fruits of the Spirit all the time? I am there sometimes, in some areas. Other times, I feel myself getting all bent out of shape, and that’s my warning: Wait just one minute, Sister. What’s really going on here? Jesus, are you trying to tell me something?

Whadda Ya Say? Let’s Praise Our Mates!

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There’s only one human whose opinion really matters to me. Recently John got up feeling terrible (an entire night following three entire weeks of coughing all night) and growled at me at the breakfast table. Because I’d given up sleeping next to him, and spent my night on the couch, I was not my usual wise and charming self. I snapped right back, slammed my uneaten breakfast in the sink and went on a walk.

In days of old I’d have stayed gone an hour or two—let him stew, right? This one took about five minutes. After asking God for wisdom (how did Satan get at us?) I thought of two things immediately: 1) I didn’t have my Quiet Time; and 2) just before our little tiff I said some very dangerous words—words of judgment. I judged people for judging people.

I was talking about the rampant divorce in the Church and saying that one major reason is because of how judgmental many Christians are about divorce. “What you judge will come on you,” I had said with just a bit of satisfaction.

You see, I was one of those divorced women who felt she had a huge red “D” branded on her forehead every Sunday. And when those family members who once judged me ended up with children who had their own marital issues (including divorce), perhaps I had been a bit smug.

Had I evaluated my own behavior, judging myself (For if we would judge ourselves we would not be judged. – I Corinthians 11:31) maybe I would have recognized I hadn’t quite forgiven those who judged me.

But God is patient, and always working with me, bringing me gently along. So, after my little walk and talk with Him, I went back to John, determined not to have my say and get my way and make him see the errors of his ways. I went back determined to join with him in kicking Satan in the teeth (and elsewhere).

Meanwhile our children were joined in prayer for us, and later told us they prayed almost exactly what we prayed. We prayed for additional issues (unbeknownst to them) that were uncovered through this event, and God grew us rather marvelously.

My “Ha, ha, ha’s” are now aimed at the enemy. And added to my never-to-be-missed-again Quiet Time is ever more fervent prayer for freedom for the Body of Christ.

Perhaps most satisfying of all is the sure knowledge that it will be a long, long time (I declare never) before I receive ugly thoughts, much less speak ugly words, to or about my darlin’.

*****

What do you say about your mate, about your marriage, and about yourself? Do those words line up with scripture? Are your words builder’s words or breaker’s words? Beware! Your mind will shut down to hear what your mouth has to say and will then act on it. If you say you’re sick and tired, you’re not putting up with it, it’s not fair, your marriage was a mistake, there’s no use in trying, your mate is a pig from Hell who gets to have all the fun, he doesn’t know how hard you work, etc., then your life, and you too, will be one big drag.

Suppose, however, that your words line up with scripture and you count your blessings all day long, always including that God neither gets fed up with you nor gives up on you. If also, you pray and read the Word morning, noon, and night, then your words will be life words, and your life will just get better and better and better.

Do you want your words to bring life? Do you want wrath long gone from your home? Find and memorize the following scripture from Proverbs 15:1—A soft answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger.

Yes, memorization sounds formulaic, and therefore suspect—perhaps not exactly what the Holy Spirit has for your individual situation. But here’s the beauty of it: the more time you spend with Jesus, even if it begins simply as a habit and/or because someone else suggested it, the sooner you’ll get to that place where you love being with Jesus, and it will just be who you are—someone who listens, hears, trusts, and obeys; someone who is blessed and highly favored by the Most High.

Relish, guard, and look forward to your blessing time with Jesus, where you learn what He has to say about you, your mate, and your marriage. Tuck those words and thoughts away in your heart. Soon, those words—life words—will be what come out of your mouth. You will be a blessing to yourself and all others in your sphere of influence.

Yes, you have influence, and yes, you want that to be a good influence. Everything you say to and about your spouse is powerful. Get this. Your words count (“Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof .” – Proverbs 18:21) and your thoughts count, as they determine your words.

It’s Not That Complicated

So how do you change your thoughts? The Word fills the heart, which fills the head, which fills the mouth. (“For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.”– Matthew 12:34). It’s as simple as that: move in close to Jesus and keep the Word before your eyes, and coming in your ears. When you fill your heart with the Good Word of Jesus, you will speak good words.

It’s your choice. Are your words going to bring life or death to your marriage? Are you going to build your mate, or tear him down?

Spare yourself the grief of knowing you let the enemy use your words to hurt those you love, those whose hearts God has entrusted to you. Remember, this doesn’t only happen in an all-out battle. You can deeply wound that heart so attuned to you—the one so desperately in need of your absolute and always-faithful love, respect and kindness—with seemingly inconsequential words (no such thing). Just a tiny little whine about something they were “supposed to” do, or something they “should” be, will wound a weary heart.

God wants your marriage to be beautiful, so get your eyes off your mate’s issues and onto Jesus. If you don’t think there are areas in your heart He would like to heal and clean up, you have a pride issue. Repent! Otherwise, you are bound to wound your mate.

Warning: “Supposed to” goes right in the trash can with “should.” You are under grace. Refuse law, and stop trying to be the law. Your name isn’t Sheriff Wife. Your name is Lover Girl. (Think in fives: See Romans 5 and Galatians 5.)

The Builder Lady

farmhouse

Proverbs 14:1 speaks to me every time I read it: “Every wise woman buildeth her house: but the foolish plucketh it down with her hands.” The word “house” in this verse is translated from bayith, meaning “a house, especially family.”

Growing up and working on my dad’s construction sites gave me a good sense of what’s involved in building a house. Long before the homeowner served a lovely Thanksgiving turkey in her walnut-paneled dining room, there were plans, bulldozing, and slab pouring, plumbing, well drilling, and so forth. And this was just the beginning!

For the contractor, it was the beginning of headaches. Subcontractors didn’t show up and in some cases that was a blessing in disguise. Lumber store trucks delivered the wrong products, slabs resembled mountain ranges, rain never stopped, and the homeowner changed her mind about details almost daily.

But the contractor expected these little blips and even if there were times when he packed it up and went home early in hopes of saving his sanity, he always showed back up the next day. He was there for the duration. He was the “contractor”—he had a contract, an agreement, and he had a responsibility. And of course, he had the rewards: a beautiful finished product, a healthy amount of cash in the bank, and the satisfaction of a job well done.

More Than a Contractor

You, however, have much more than a contract. You made vows pertaining to a covenant. Even as your mission and calling are so much higher than that of a builder’s contract to construct a physical house, so are your potential rewards.

You won’t easily, magically, or instantly attain a strong and sure marriage and family. But if you are wise (and God promises us all wisdom for the asking) you can and will build your house, your family, your mate. With good words.

Suggested Reading: North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell illustrates how great differences can be great strengths if we will let love have say-so; The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks

Keys to Victory: Praise God that your tongue is a weapon for good; be the kind of woman your in-laws can brag on, because they love how you build their boy with your words; daily declare, “I take a stand against my enemy. My mouth is off limits. My words bring life!”

18 Years Young

~ Bev Parker ~ 2 Comments

file4671308346759 Eighteen years old.  A graduate!  Old enough to join the Army and shoot people.  Old enough for Mom and Dad to send out into the world so that they can get on with their own lives.  Old, I say!

Wrong.  Who, at eighteen, knows how to handle the adult world with skill and wisdom?  What child, at eighteen, isn’t in as much need of prayer and guidance as ever?

Don’t be in a rush to push that child out of the nest.  Make the nest more welcoming and comfortable than ever.  Be sure your child knows, in spite of all the world’s voices, that you are perfectly fine with God’s timing, be it leaving at eighteen or twenty-eight.

Dr. James Dobson calls eighteen to twenty-eight the “critical decade” — that time of decisions and choices which shape the rest of life.  I, for one, made some really dumb mistakes at eighteen years young, and could have used some uncompromising guidance, some Holy Spirit-inspired wisdom and timing.  And the world I faced was much friendlier and less threatening and dark than what today’s kids face.

Shall we get off the world’s (and the Military’s) timetable, and have a little rhythm and grace?  Our son, Benjamin, always knew he wanted to join the Army, but he waited a bit, leaving home at 19, and turning 20 before he was in Basic Training.  During his final months at home he got in shape physically, and grew mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  There is a lot of maturing between eighteen and twenty, and we believe it’s made all the difference for him.

Be prepared to ignore other people’s nosy questions and opinions.  My daughter Hannah (www.thewarmjournal.com) hasn’t yet decided where or when or if she’s going to college.  The hardest part, she says, is ignoring the judgement and disapproval of other people.  A good life lesson right there:  Other people’s opinions don’t matter.  What matters is what Hannah is seeking:   God’s opinion.  “Until I know where God wants me to go, I’m not going anywhere,” she says.

And then, amazingly, she wanted to know if I and her dad were OK with her “sticking around a little while.”  Was she serious?  “Your dad is fine if you never leave, but I think you should leave in the next decade or so,” I answered.  She liked that answer.

A warm and cozy nest is the best kind to leave.  We want our children to set out in God’s timing, all flags flying high.  Eighteen or twenty-eight, or whenever they’re ready.

We can either properly launch our children, all systems go, into an outer space life adventure, or we can push them out of the nest prematurely, and watch in agony as they falter and crash, often with severely damaged wings.

Remember, it’s 18 years young, not 18 years old.

P.S.  If you’re grieving because this has already happened to your child, turn up the prayer!  God is the God of restoration.  I have long claimed the scripture, Joel 2:25, and called on God to restore what the locust has eaten in the lives of my loved ones, and myself.  Again and again, I have seen Him bring healing and restoration.

Just Say “Whoa!”

~ Bev Parker ~ 3 Comments

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Upside down and backwards – that’s how you and I can turn the devil’s schemes, if we will evade the trap of judgment.

What is your burden, what is your lament?  That is also your clue to where you have power.  Take that thing that irks, bothers, grieves you most, and pray!!!

When you catch yourself (as I did recently) feeling utterly defeated and hopeless and just plain aggravated about something, and you hear yourself saying STUPID things such as, “That battle is too far gone, it’s hopeless, that problem is fully entrenched in our society (or in your marriage, family, child, friend) and will never go away,” JUST SAY “WHOA!”

The grief over that problem – in this case I was talking about the ravages and seemingly hopeless problem of drug addiction – is your latest unction to pray.  The Bible sets a very opposite picture of what we’re to be, from what we often are.  We are not called to be defeated, defensive, hopeless whiners and sideliners.

We are to be, and are promised that we are, way more than conquerors (Romans 8:37).  Matthew 10:8 says, “Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely ye have received, freely give.”

Does that sound like a tall order?  I don’t look at it like that.  I just say, “OK, Lord.  I believe.  Show me how.”  I want to turn the devil’s tricks upside down and backwards.  I want him to wish he’d NEVER messed with me and mine.  I want to turn every lament, every whine and gripe fest into Victory in Jesus.  Amen.

,

Family First?

~ Bev Parker ~ 2 Comments

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Or last?

One of the many beauties of home education is that family comes first, naturally.  The fruits of that, provided grace is in place, are unlimited, and this was brought home to me recently when I read an article about eliminating negative people (especially those who hinder living in faith and love) from our lives.

I respect the author of this article, and gave serious thought to her words.  Was I not eliminating such people out of fear of conflict, or perhaps because I’m too nice?  Were they truly a hindrance?  There was no question that these people are difficult and tiring, but were they really a problem?  A spiritual roadblock?

No.  And here’s why:  My family keeps me strong, on track.  We pray with and for each other, and with and for others, every single day.  When I am brought down by someone or something and make my fall evident with frustration and negativity, someone in my family will do as I’ve asked them to do:  Don’t let me get away with it!

We learned from Pastor Keith Moore’s example to say, in response to negativity (anything contrary to scripture), “If you say so.”

Aaaargh!  It makes us wanna box someone’s ears (I’ve been reading too much Georgette Heyer, if there’s any such thing as too much Georgette Heyer ).  But, instead, we take deep breaths, roll our eyes, wrinkle our noses as though at a very unpleasant odor, and change our words.

Example:

Me:  “I’m sick to death of his crap and I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.”

Brat Child of Mine with Snarky Grin:  “If you say so.”

Me:  Really deep breath, mutterings, stomps, yeah-buts, etc.  Another deep breath.  “I am taking his nonsense as an unconscious cry for help, and I’m not giving him a piece of my mind because obviously I can’t spare it, and I’m going to stop and pray for him right now.  Will you, dearest child, agree with me in prayer?”

I just strengthened myself, lightened the load of the child who has to listen to MY crap, and prayed myself right out of Satan’s way of thinking and doing, and changed things for the person I prayed for.  Rather than a piece of my mind, he got a piece of God’s love.  Amen!

 

Authenticity at Home

~ Bev Parker ~ Leave a comment

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What is an authentic home?  In looking at the definition of authentic below (see the end of the post), we can deduce that, in a word, an authentic home is real.  Does your home feel authentic to you?  Are you comfortable in it, and does it offer comfort to others?

I am reminded of a purchase I made yesterday.  In a shabby chic sort of store, I searched for something to catch my eye, something to speak to my heart.  I wanted something that would slightly alter and enhance my home.

Mostly I saw things that wouldn’t stand alone.  They were attractive in their settings, but not something I really wanted at home (well, there was that framed picture that said, “Eat Cake for Breakfast” but I don’t care for art that tells me what to do). And then I saw it:  a red vintage umbrella.  The handle was wooden, it worked beautifully, it was red, and it was raining outside.  Yay! I had almost bought an umbrella a few weeks ago, but it was . . . well, let’s just say it was not Made in America (it broke when I opened it).  It was “cheaper” than the red umbrella in every way, and had I bought it, way more expensive.

I chose the authentic umbrella, just as I choose an authentic home.  Any time I can substitute wood for plastic, fresh for canned, a walk in the woods for floor exercises, my child singing in the shower for radio music, denim for polyester, shoe laces for Velcro, viewing the currently running Jan Brett art exhibit in Fort Collins vs. an intelligence-insulting matinee, lounging in a home-crocheted afghan on a second-hand leather couch rather than wrapping up in, and sitting on, new micro-fiber monstrosities, cotton diapers to replace paper/plastic sweat wrappers, homemade biscuits dripping with butter instead of Styrofoam with a stingy (thank God) bit of margarine . . .

You’re thinking this all sounds like too much work, and too time consuming?  What are you doing that’s more important, more satisfying, than authenticating your home, your life, your soul?

P1040359

See definition in Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary

Syllabification: au·then·tic

Pronunciation: /ôˈTHen(t)ik/

(abbreviation: auth.)

Definition of authentic in English:

adjective

1Of undisputed origin; genuine: the letter is now accepted as an authentic documentauthentic 14th-century furniture

More example sentences

  • He is in no doubt that the document is an authentic copy of the original.
  • In recent years, Disney’s park designers have filled the place with what look like real antiques, genuine artifacts, authentic junk.
  • A letter should have been sent to confirm that the references were genuine and authentic,’ he said.
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Synonyms

legitimate, lawful, legal, valid

informal the real McCoy, the real thing, kosher

1.1Made or done in the traditional or original way, or in a way that faithfully resembles an original: the restaurant serves authentic Italian mealsevery detail of the movie was totally authentic

More example sentences

  • These hotels and restaurants did all they could to recreate all that is authentic in traditional Kerala cuisine.
  • The restaurant ensures that Mangalorean cuisine is made and served in its traditional and authentic form.
  • The crowd then made their way back to the High Cross Inn where they celebrated St Patrick s Day with traditional music including authentic bag pipe playing.
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1.2Based on facts; accurate or reliable: an authentic depiction of the situation

More example sentences

  • The written word persuasively conveys the authentic ring of reliable authority in a way the recollected spoken word does not.
  • It’s based upon an authentic story that happened in the ’20s and ’30s.
  • Earlier an unnamed assistant editor had emphasised ‘the need for publishing absolutely accurate and authentic information’.
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Synonyms

reliable, dependable, trustworthy, authoritative, honest, faithful;

1.3(In existentialist philosophy) relating to or denoting an emotionally appropriate, significant, purposive, and responsible mode of human life.

Example sentences

  • Hence, he argues that the appropriate mode for authentic human existence is the personal.
  • For Heidegger, authentic existence begins from self-understanding.
  • As such, for Heidegger, an authentic existence requires as its precondition a radical and not received experience of the past.
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2 Music (Of a church mode) comprising the notes lying between the principal note or final and the note an octave higher. Compare with plagal.

Origin

Late Middle English: via Old French from late Latin authenticus, from Greek authentikos ‘principal, genuine’.