life

The Days of Our Lives

| Marie Griffith

Moses brings us our Monday School this week.

“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”   Psalm 90:12

Psalm 90 is a prayer written by Moses, the one who led God’s people out of Egypt, through the miraculously parted Red Sea, to the edge of the Promised Land. Instead of trusting God, the people gave in to fear and did not enter the Promised Land until forty years later.

Throughout the psalm, Moses writes a lot about time and stresses how quickly it passes. Maybe spending lots of time in the desert, dealing with rebellious people, and hearing all the complaints about water and manna gives a person a better perspective on time and the days of our lives. In verse 12, he prays for God to teach us to number our days. Moses wants to learn……and wants us to learn……to count our days so that we become wise.

How will numbering our days give us a heart of wisdom?  The main thing it will do is make us realize the brevity of our lives. But realizing how short our lives are doesn’t give us wisdom. In fact, it may make us more foolish….chasing adventures, careers, or bucket lists and filling our lives to the brim with things that don’t matter.

There’s more to it than just counting our days. Moses prays for God to teach us to number our days. God is the Giver of our Days and must teach us what to do with them. He must show us how to live them, because on our own, we tend to waste them.

If you’re wondering, like I am, how not to waste your days……we can’t go wrong with what Paul wrote to the church at Corinth which echo the words of Jesus in all four gospels:  Love God and love people.

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”              1 Corinthians 13:13  

We’ve been given the days, let’s make them count and live like it matters.

 

 

Making Headway

| Marie Griffith

I’ve been running for over three years now. I went from believing I could never run to…….well……running. I’m not sure I’m any good at it. I’ve never experienced the “runner’s high” I hear about unless you count how I feel when I’m finished with a run. I’m elated after a run. Because it’s over.

And on my last runs, I felt as if I’ve never ran in my life. It was awful the entire time. Maybe it was because I woke up late and skipped parts of my routine. I rushed out the door before I finished my first cup of coffee because I was determined to get the run in before I had to be in the office. Within the first quarter mile I knew. My legs ached and my lungs burned more than usual, so I slowed my pace. The slower pace only prolonged the misery. The run never got better. I almost quit halfway through my goal, then I thought about quitting the rest of the time. But I finished.

When I read what Jesus thought when he saw his disciples in a boat on the sea it reminded me of my run and our lives.

“And he saw that they were making headway painfully, for the wind was against them.”  Mark 6:48

I can think of no better words to describe the hard parts of my journey. My running journey, the married one, the parenting one, my working and writing ones and the most important journey – the following Jesus one.

Making headway painfully.

Of course, it’s not always like that. There are days when it’s easy. Or easier. Good run days happen. I don’t let the bad run days stop me from working to get better at it.

It’s the same way on the other journeys. I can’t let the hard days of my marriage make me forget the good days. I don’t let the days when I feel uninspired to write any words prevent me from continuing my blog or steal my dream of publishing a book. On the days my parental decision making is less than wise I try to remember all the times it wasn’t.

And on the journey that matters the most…the one that affects all my other ones, I’m learning as I go. There are days I’ve let pride rule my heart, or acted selfishly. I’ve ignored what Jesus said about loving my neighbor or failed to do something good I know I should have done. But it happens less than it used to. I’m learning. Slowly at times. Painfully sometimes. But I’m moving forward and I’m never alone.

Jesus said, “Take heart, it is I”.  Mark 6:50

He sees. He knows when it’s painful and slow. And He’s there giving me the courage to keep at it.

I stumble…..but I’m making headway.

 

 

Fun Is Good

| Marie Griffith

I have a long list of “must dos”. A longer list of things I need to do. And a short list of fun things I really want to do. We all have these lists, whether on paper or in our heads.

The long lists take up most of my time. They include the everyday things I do at home or work. It means at work I figure contracts, reconcile GL accounts, take care of accounts payable, and analyze financial statements. At home I do laundry, have good conversations with my family, clean the refrigerator, cook dinner, or wash dishes.

The other items on the long lists are those that can wait but still need doing. Like clearing out the sun room and painting the walls. Getting quotes from contractors on more work we want done to the house. Cleaning out the attic and the barn. Trimming trees and more landscaping.

But what about that short list? Yours will be different than mine because what is fun to me may not be to you. But we all need our own list of fun things we want to do.

I want to fly somewhere with each of my kids and backpack on the Appalachian Trail this year. My husband and I want to see the Northern Lights and picnic in a vineyard. I want to paddle board and learn Spanish, do some freelance writing, and complete the Spartan Trifecta. These things don’t need to be done, and as author Mark Buchanan put it, the world isn’t changed by my doing them or not.

But I need to play. You need to play. Because we need a break from the ever growing “to do” list.

Because of the chores and responsibilities and deadlines, the short list tends to get shoved under the others. Disregarded as less important. Forgotten about.

If we’re not careful, adulthood can turn into one big obligation and we forget we need to have fun. We forget how to play.

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If you’ve neglected play for so long and don’t know what to do, start small. Play Go Fish with your kid. Dance in the living room. Fly a kite, jump on the trampoline or ENO in the park. Visit a theme park and ride all the roller coasters. Sign up for that cooking or dance class you’ve always wanted to take or join a book club.

I’m not going to tell you how you’ll benefit from playing. I want you to find out for yourself. Because the world may not be changed by your playing, but you probably will be.

Excuse me while I go jump rain puddles.

Dancing

Reflection

| Marie Griffith

 As water reflects the face, so one’s life reflects the heart.   Proverbs 27:19 NIV

 

I planned to write more on this and include some thoughts about the end of my devotional readings from Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter.

 

But the thing about a proverb is it says what it says without needing any help from me.

 

 

Reflecting

Against the Odds

| Marie Griffith

My parents’ story is an “against the odds” kind of story. They were like the rest of us, trying to make it the best they knew how. Learning to make a life, raise kids, work their jobs, and have fun while doing it. They got it right sometimes but they got it wrong other times.

I don’t hold the wrong parts against them.

We’re all learning as we go. Not one of us has it all figured out. Still we wake up each day, try again, and maybe do better than we did yesterday. But we don’t give up and we don’t give in to the idea that it will never change or that we’ll never learn. We keep at it. Sure we go through trials, we have pain and sorrow and bad things happen. But by the grace of God we make do with what we’ve learned so far.

And we forgive. Then our hearts are softened and all of the sudden we realize we see people differently. Even the ones that caused the pain.

Because you love people better when your heart is softer. And you’re better prepared for the next thing life throws at you. You’ve learned how to weep and laugh and do it with those who are weeping and laughing.

And at the end of your days, someone will say your story is an “against the odds” kind of story.

It’s funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, and sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools-friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty-and said ‘do the best you can with these, they will have to do’. And mostly, against all odds, they do.

                                                                              Anne Lamott

Abrupt

Joy

| Marie Griffith

Joy to the world! The Lord is come.
Let earth receive her King
Let every heart
Prepare Him room

Jesus came that we may have life and have it abundantly. This life is the kind that has a joy so deep, a joy so real, that it’s indestructible. Not that we won’t go through trials of many kinds. We will. But the abundant life is the kind of life that can smile in the midst of trouble and sickness and sorrow. Not a forced smile. A genuine one.

It’s the kind of life that can see beyond the here and now because the abundant life Jesus promises is the kind of life that knows this isn’t the end. There is more to come. A lot more. Eternity.

But for many the tension of preparing for Christmas Day increases as the day draws near. We dash here and there, from party to gathering to special programs, decorating and gift wrapping and candy making, menu planning and extra grocery shopping. 

And we wonder about the joy because we don’t feel it.

We’ve rushed here and there to do the wrong kind of preparing.

This joy isn’t found in a perfectly decorated home or an extravagantly prepared meal or the amount of money spent on the gifts we’re giving or receiving. It isn’t found in all the parties and events and Christmas bonuses.

It’s found in Jesus.

Those other things are just a foretaste of the real kind of joy. The abundant life Jesus came to give us.

We only have to make room in our hearts for him.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.                           John 10:10 (ESV)

Part of the Weekly Photo Challenge

Live On

Image | | Marie Griffith

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I remember playing in the shade of this old pecan tree when I was a little girl.

A long time ago the tree was struck by lightning. The wounds from the strike are only scars now.

Although damaged and misshaped the tree lives on. It’s a resilient one. It found a way to survive…..thrive even.

Birds still perch there. Shade is still given. It’s a generous tree.

And the hole in the center of the tree is the perfect place for a squirrel to rest from his scampering.

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In response to The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge Resilient.

Now

| Marie Griffith

image
Right now.

I’m excited and nervous and ready to be there.

But I’m here. Now.

I will run my first Spartan Race tomorrow morning so I’m full of anticipation.

The best thing I can do now is to be all here right now and enjoy it.

Take it in. The excitement and the anticipation of the race. The wondering if I’m prepared. The uneasiness in my stomach. All of it.

That’s all we can do with now. Be here. Be in it and all in it.

I can’t be there yet so I will be fully present here now.

But how many times do I let now pass me by….waiting for tonight or tomorrow or next year….or even worse regretting yesterday or last week or 5 years ago.

And I miss it. The moment.

Now.

It’s gone.

We all have now. Right now. And all of the nows together will make our lives. And each one of them is unique….there’s not another one like it.

The average life will have over 2,200,000,000 of those. That seems plenty until you’ve already experienced over half of them.

I don’t want to miss them.

I’m going to treasure all the moments I get…….every now I can.

The ones when one of my children makes me laugh. The ones I get when driving to work and a favorite song comes on. A beautiful sunrise, a great cup of coffee, a vivid dream.

The ones when I’ve learned or tried something new. The ones when I find out I can do more than I thought I could.

The sweet ones when my husband pulls me tight and hugs me longer.

The late night talks with my children, the early morning ones too. The talk with the neighbor because we were working in our yards at the same time.

The ones when I understand something or find something I thought was lost.

The victorious one when I cross the finish line tomorrow will be a very special moment but the drive to the hotel tonight will have some good ones too.

But right now…….

I’m going to savor the “I can hardly wait” feeling.

“So teach us to number our days
that we may get a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12 ESV

 

In response to the Daily Post’s Discover Challenge Here and Now.

Midnight

| Marie Griffith

Midnight.

That’s when I crawled into bed last night. The red numbers on my alarm clock glared at me, reminding me that it was way past my bedtime.img_4537

But my sleepy eyes couldn’t steal the smile off my face. And my drained body couldn’t take away the fullness of my heart.

I was very tired when I got home. It was a busy workday, then I led a ladies’ group for two hours. On the quiet drive home, I thought of the few things I needed to do before I went to bed. I decided they could wait.

My plan was to chat with my family, change into my pajamas, wash my face, brush my teeth, then go to bed.

My husband and youngest daughter followed me into the bedroom. They were still chatty. We sat there, talked about our day in more detail, laughed and yawned. My husband got his fill and went into the living room, but his spot on the bed was taken by my 18 year-old son. I was surprised he was home. I don’t see as much of him and his older sister. They’re always on the go…….working, hanging out with friends……just not home.

But he was home last night. He lay across the bed and listened to his little sister talk and talk. He stayed there, interjecting something every now and then. He asked me how group went and listened some more to his little sister talk and talk.

When she was through with all of her words and left the room, he shared what was on his mind. Deep stuff. Life stuff. So we talked. And I didn’t feel tired. And he felt better about some things.

He made his way to the kitchen when he realized he was hungry. I realized how tired I really was. So I changed into my pajamas, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I heard my oldest daughter come in the front door. It felt as if I hadn’t seen her in days. I went into the living room and sat on the love seat. She sat too and showed me some pictures on her phone. We had a short talk then she went into her bedroom.

She came back before I made it off the love seat. She started talking again. Sharing what she’s been thinking. Deep stuff. Life stuff. So we talked. And I felt really tired but it didn’t matter. We talked and we both felt better about some things.

I finally crawled into bed with a big smile and a full heart.  And I slept.

Because the red numbers on my alarm clock didn’t keep me from the essential things.