The Trailblazer

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This child is the trailblazer.  The pioneer.  The leader of the pack.

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This boy is the first of the gaggle of grands that have been added to our family in the past two years.

(Gaggle, noun: an often noisy and disorderly group; an assortment of related things)

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He is not yet aware of his prestigious position.

He doesn’t know that someday the siblings and cousins will want to be in his secret club, sit by him at the kids’ table, and copy the way he sets up his trains.  He will tell them the rules to the games he makes up, show them a better way to build towers, and tattle on whoever is misbehaving.

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He will be the teacher when they play school, the father when they play house and “not it” when they play tag.

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It’s not easy, being first.

But there are perks, starting with lots of pictures.

May Day

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There’s been nothing particularly wrong with this day.

It’s just that the clouds and the cold and the rain have made my mood a bit overcast.

I sent out a distress signal:

Mayday!  Mayday!

Send sunshine!  Send some color into this gray world!

Coming home tonight, I see it on my porch.  My rescuer has come.

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A pop of pink and two tulips on my weatherbeaten chair.

My weatherbeaten spirit is lifted.

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Thank you to whoever heard my distress call!

May Day!  May Day!

Taking Charge

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Sometimes I’m a take-charge kind of person.

If I see something that needs to be done and nobody is doing it, I don’t mind stepping up to the plate and gettin’ ‘er done.  However, if there is someone in my midst who has more take-charge-ness than me, I am more than happy to step down and let somebody else get ‘er done.

Taking charge can be a good thing when there needs to be some leadership to accomplish a task.  Taking charge can be a bad thing when it’s motivated by control and comes off as bossiness.

So, I had to smile when I read this scripture:

“Then Jesus entered a house, and again a crowd gathered so that he and his disciples were not even able to eat.  When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said, ‘He is out of his mind.'”   Mark 3:20-21

Families are funny that way.  We tend to think we have a right to interfere.  As a mother, I’ve done my fair share of meddling.  And I’m not proud of it.  Jesus’ family seemed to think it was time to put an end to the craziness and take Him back to the carpenter’s shop where He belonged.  But Jesus didn’t let His mother and brothers derail His mission.  Trying to control adult children doesn’t work any better now than it did 2,000 years ago.

Besides, who can take charge of Jesus?

I need Him to take charge of me.

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Fashionista

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I’ve been looking for the perfect outfit for spring and I think I finally found it.

I didn’t discover it on Pinterest.

I didn’t see it at the outlet mall.

It wasn’t displayed on a mannequin.

Oh no.

My new favorite outfit was modeled by the newest fashionista in town….

….my granddaughter, 6 month old Evie Sally Ann.

Let’s start with the boots.

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As you can see, her footwear is soft and furry for ultra-comfort.  Swoon.

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Evie is sporting a medium grey legging with sparkly pink hearts.  Adorbs.

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She’s chosen a pink (of course) ribbed long sleeve top with sparkly (of course) ballerinas.  Ca-uuute.

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And this jacket.  To die for.

Detailed stitching, petite pockets and rolled up sleeves.  So hip.

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Don’t you agree that Evie looks completely put together and ready for a fun day at Nonnie’s?

This is my new favorite outfit.

I just need it 100x bigger.

After all, I am about 100x older (653 months, to be exact).

Gosh, I wish I could look that cute with drool running down my chin.

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I also wish I could sit up with my legs straight out and touch my toes.

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Oh Evie-girl, to be you…..

 

Lead the Way

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“They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were afraid.”  Mark 10:32

 This is the picture that has gripped me during Holy Week:

Jesus, striding up to Jerusalem, determined to carry out his mission….

which would involve betrayal, mocking, flogging, crucifixion and death.

He led the way.

Four times, Jesus told His disciples what was coming, except He always added the final part – resurrection — but they didn’t seem to hear it.

“The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men.  They will kill him, and on the third day he will be raised to life.”  And the disciples were filled with grief.  Matthew 17:23

Jesus lost them at “they will kill him”.

The twelve were full of fear, perhaps wondering if death was also waiting for them in Jerusalem.

BUT THEY STILL FOLLOWED.

They did it scared.

I must remember, when I am astonished at being led down the road marked with suffering,

that it’s a place He’s been before….

and He knows the way.

I can do it scared.

“The cross is never the end.  It’s only partway through. The cross is necessary, but the cross is always accompanied by the resurrection and the victory that comes from the resurrection…..that’s always true.”  Experiencing the Cross, Henry Blackaby

Lead the Follower

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It’s frustrating for leaders when followers don’t follow very well.

Moses was an A+ leader, but those stiff-necked Israelites were D- followers, at best.

They grumbled, they whined, they rebelled.

Leading is tough when you have to hogtie your tribe and drag them, kicking and screaming all the way.

Across a desert.

For forty years.

OY.

But what if we flip that thought:

It’s frustrating for followers when leaders don’t lead very well.

What if there are people who would be willing to step out in faith, if only there was someone to take them by the hand and say, “Let’s go!”?

How long before followers are expected to do a little leading?

Jesus’ first words to the disciples were, “Come, follow me.”

His last words were, “Go and make disciples.”

The best leaders still follow…..

and the best followers, lead.

 

 

Follow the Leader

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calfI learned how to be a follower when I was about seven years old.  My older siblings were in 4-H and showed calves at the county fair every summer.  Part of their responsibilities in getting ready for show-time was to teach those calves how to be led around a ring in front of a judge.  The animals had to be taught the commands for walking forward, walking backward, stopping, and standing still.

Early in the summer, my sister would put the halter on her Shorthorn calf and they would go for long walks down the gravel country road.  My job was to walk behind the critter with a stick in my hand and whack her rear end if she stopped walking. (Clarification: I’m referring to the rear end of the calf, not my sister.)  Even though I had to watch my step, I remember thinking that it was kind of fun.  I got to spend an afternoon with my big sister and smack a cow every so often.  We would sing our hearts out walking down that back road.

“If you wanna be a Badger, then come along with me…”

*whack*

“by the bright shining light, by the light of the moon…”

*whack*….

By the end of the summer, my services were no longer needed.  The bovine was adept at showing off her stuff.  My sister was pretty good, too.  One year her calf was awarded Reserved Grand Champion at the State Fair.

All this to say: while I’m learning the art of becoming a follower, I may need someone pulling me along, showing me which road to take and how to walk in it.  But I also may need someone coming behind me, making sure I don’t lag — prodding me with a loving whack.

Come After Me

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Hudson has his own way of playing games.

Especially the one where Nonnie is down on her hands and knees and says, “Hudson, I’m gonna get you” with a slightly growly but not too scary voice.

He looks up with wide eyes, starts dancing back and forth on his toes and giggles.  At this point, he’s supposed to take off running so I can give chase all around the house.

But Hudson has his own rules.

As soon as I make a move, he runs straight at me.

The little guy doesn’t want to be chased, he wants to be “got”.

If I should do something as foolish as turn around so he can chase me, I look back at a frowning two year old.

Getting caught up in Nonnie’s arms with hugs and tickles is the best part, so why not cut right to it?

The key verse for our Lent study this year is,

“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”  (Luke 9:23)

Now I’m wondering if maybe Hudson has it right.

Jesus says, “Come after me”.

Maybe Jesus doesn’t want to be chased as much as He wants for us to be caught….

…in His wide open arms.

It is the best part.

Are You Following Me?

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twitterIt’s so easy to be a follower these days.  With a touch of the Twitter app on my iphone, I can become a follower, just like that.  I can get a message (or 10) from Beth Moore and C. S. Lewis every day.  (I’m pretty sure someone else is tweeting on behalf of C. S. Lewis.)  If I were so inclined, I could become a follower of any number of celebrities, politicians and athletes. (I’m not so inclined.)  Curiously, this morning I discovered that I have one Twitter follower, which is interesting given the fact that I’ve never actually tweeted anything.

I hope all this “following” on social media isn’t watering down my understanding of what it means to be a disciple.  Jesus defined it this way: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves, take up their cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23)  According to Jesus, this is a bigger commitment than checking in occasionally to get a pithy 140-character-or-less inspirational message.  There is no “unfollow” button to hit when things start to get uncomfortable.  Denying self and taking up a cross doesn’t get a lot of thumbs-up “likes”.

Perhaps it wasn’t that much different two thousand years ago.  There was no Facebook or Twitter, but people were still looking for a quick and easy route to eternal life.  The rich, young ruler in Mark 10 approached Jesus with the right posture (“he ran up to him and fell on his knees before him”), with genuine respect (“Good teacher”), with an insightful question (“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”) and with impressive credentials (“all these I have kept since I was a boy”).  But instead of a pat on the back, Jesus challenged the wealthy young man with the concept of sacrifice. That’s where the conversation ended.  We don’t know how long the man considered Jesus’ invitation to sell his possessions and become a follower, but we do know he rose to his feet without another word and walked away sad.

Reading my tweets and liking me on Facebook and even following this blog doesn’t cost anything.  Being a follower of Jesus, however, does come with a cost, if it’s the real thing.

Are you following me?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tax Return

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tax dayAre you the type to file your tax return early, or do you wait until 11:58 p.m. on April 15th?  I suppose it depends on if you are getting money back or if you have to pay up.  Just be glad the IRS man doesn’t come knocking on your front door, accompanied by a bruiser with brass knuckles, demanding payment for a fraudulently inflated tax bill.  Imagine having no H&R Block to find you deductions, no tax code to protect you from a corrupt collector, no recourse if you are wrongfully audited.

Matthew was that guy.  He regularly soaked his fellow countrymen in order to line his own pockets.  The Romans used him, the Jews despised him and his family probably disowned him.  His only friends were other tax collectors and questionable low-life individuals of ill repute.

Then Jesus said, “Follow me.”

What made Matthew walk away from his booth that day?  Did he know he was burning that bridge — that there would be no going back if this risky adventure with an itinerate preacher didn’t work out?

And what about all that money in Matthew’s bank account?  The first thing he did was throw a big party, inviting all his sleazy tax collecting buddies to meet Jesus.  A banquet for a crowd would have come with a hefty price tag.  Were there sufficient funds left over to provide for the needs of a traveling band of men and their rabbi?

And why wasn’t Matthew chosen to keep the group’s money bag?  He was good with numbers, but did the other eleven not trust him because of his past?  Was Judas the unanimous choice for club treasurer?

Was Matthew’s old name, Levi, a hint that he was from a priestly family who expected him to carry on a priestly tradition?  Was Levi a synagogue school drop out who disappointed his parents and couldn’t measure up?

Jesus’ invitation to Matthew may have been a call to the taxing business of discipleship and a return to the glorious privilege of sonship.