It will take something infinitely more powerful than the wand of a fairy godmother to transform the ashes of disappointment into something beautiful. Perfect love is impossible in human hands. It requires divine intervention.
Source: Death of a Fairytale
Behold, my greatest invention: a snooze button that actually stops time. Just press the button at, say, 6am, sleep in for another few hours, and still wake up at 6am that same day. You’ll never be late for work, school, or appointments. And you’ll never be tired again.
Okay, so the miracle snooze hasn’t been invented…yet. But if you find it does exist, please remember me on your gift list. Because there are days when I don’t feel like getting up.
Add to that list of things I don’t always feel like doing…changing another diaper, washing another dish, folding another load of laundry, ironing (ugh), picking up another room full of toys, and…you get the point. Daily life often thrives or fails based on our choice to do what we don’t feel like doing. Getting up each morning is not on option. The same applies to the multitude of other monotonous but necessary daily tasks. Even the most coveted of jobs involves a certain degree of unappealing, mundane routine.
It’s the same in love. In every relationship, there comes a point where we must choose to love. I’ve been married almost twenty years, and I know. There are days when it’s truly, madly, deeply, and days when we’ve lost that loving feeling. First-date feelings fade. Honeymoon euphoria evaporates. The daily grind drones and drains. But no relationship lasts without the determination to love at all times.
Relationships, like buildings, need a firm foundation to stand. While emotions are an integral part of life, they make for a flimsy foundation. Feelings evolve more frequently than a quick-change artist. Relationships that rely solely on sentiment are doomed to fail. True love goes beyond feelings. It’s a commitment to love someone whatever the cost, even when emotion runs dry. And the reward of endurance is deeply rich, satisfying, and lasting relationships.
People say the most interesting things when it comes to the topic of adoption. Often humorous, sometimes rude, occasionally ignorant, but always interesting. Among the most interesting comments we’ve received is, “Of course you picked them. They’re so cute.” (Implying we chose our kids according to their most obviously endearing quality.)
Often, my response is a simple, polite smile. I usually don’t think of a good response until after the fact. As for the comment in question, I didn’t have an immediate reply except to say, “They ARE cute.”
And they ARE. Irresistably, impossibly, just-look-at-me-with-those-big-brown-eyes-and-I’ll-give-you-the-world…CUTE. But truth is, we had no idea what our kids would look like when we started the adoption process. They could have been green, one-eyed alien children for all we knew. We were ready, and willing, to love them—before we ever knew them. The fact that they happened to be so incredibly cute was an unexpected blessing.
Contrary to popular though immensely misguided belief, adoption is not about finally getting that much-desired bundle of joy. It’s not about filling empty, longing arms with a sweet, cuddly baby. And it’s not about picking a cute, lovable kid to add ascetic value to the next family photo.
Adoption is a permanent choice to invest our lives in a PERSON who will be part of our family…for life. That adorably innocent baby will one day grow to become a child, a teen, and, eventually, an adult. That’s why adoption is a long-haul commitment. It’s a binding decision to love at all costs, no matter what and for as long as we have breath. As with a biological child, relationship with an adopted child is a lifelong investment. They are loved, and they are family, no matter what they look like, who they are, what they do, or who they become. And their value is worth more than the greatest treasure we can imagine.
The Bible says God loved us before we were even born. His commitment to love runs so deep he sent his only son to die that we could be reconciled in relationship with him. And he willingly adopts us into his own family, should we chose to accept his invitation. This love is a binding love that doesn’t give up and doesn’t let go. No matter what.
“God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.” (Ephesians 1:5)
I have to admit I sometimes get jealous of sports. It starts somewhere around the first pre-season kick-off—that tinge of dread in knowing it will be awhile before I have my husband’s full attention again. Our drive-time dialogue will be punctuated with emotion, yes. But shouts of “touchdown!” and laments of “interception” don’t always make for the conversation I crave. And just when I think it’s over come that Super Bowl holiday, I realize. It’s still a good few months until the NBA playoffs. And by then, baseball season is well underway.
Yes, my jealousy of sports may be ill founded. After all, my husband married me, not a football. Though each sport lasts but a season, I’ll be there for every season. And while there are times we go out for that much-anticipated romantic date and he’s staring at the sports screen behind me instead of looking into my eyes, I’ll be the one he goes home with at night. But the whole thing got me thinking—is there ever a time when it’s okay to be jealous?
The Bible speaks of an unhealthy jealousy—a kind that’s covetous, controlling, or possessive. Covetousness springs from discontent and ingratitude—wanting what others have for our own. Control stems from insecurity or egotism—wanting full reign over another’s life. Possessiveness derives from greed—wanting to own what was not ours to begin with. All three characteristics are rooted in selfishness. And love will never thrive in a selfish environment.
Love is not selfish, and therefore love is not ruled by unhealthy jealousy. That’s why the Bible says love is not jealous. It also says that God is love. Yet there are a few verses that mention he’s a jealous God. How can this be possible without being contradictory? When I read about God’s love for his people, it’s clear he’s not covetous, controlling, or possessive. But maybe there’s a different kind of jealousy—a kind that’s unselfish. A kind that’s protective.
In relationships, unhealthy, selfish jealousy can destroy. But healthy, selfless jealousy can serve to protect. My jealousy of sports is mostly quirky, though partly selfish in wanting my husband’s undivided attention. Yet it would be strange if I weren’t protective of our relationship when it came to something that could actually hurt or come between us.
It’s the same with God’s love. I believe it’s described as a jealous love because he wants to protect us from anything that can hurt us or thwart our greater purpose in life. Our loving creator desires our attention and affections, because in him we find that purpose. He’s protectively jealous when it comes to those habits and addictions in our lives that have the potential to destroy us, our calling, and our relationships.
Love is selfless. And love always protects. That’s why, sometimes, love is jealous—not in the unhealthy sense of the word, but in a life-giving, sheltering way that serves to reconcile and restore.
Wisdom is learning that saying no might actually be the most loving thing we can do. It’s understanding that our no means yes to something greater, and realizing if we’re too busy to stop and love people, we’re too busy. The world will keep spinning if we say no to the lesser things. But it will miss out if we don’t say yes to the best God has for us.
“I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me.” (Psalm 57:2)
Source: When No Means Yes
There are few sounds I love more than the sound…of silence. While some might get restless in a quiet house, I get inspired. It means there will be time to think and write, and maybe even rest. Solitude is one of my closest friends.
As much as I love quiet, I don’t get a lot of it. It’s tough to come by in a house with two high-energy kids, a persistent cat, and a dog who barks at everything that passes by our front door (even if it’s a leaf). Last year for my birthday, I asked for a half-day locked in the bedroom—alone with my computer and a mind full of uninterrupted ideas. But even the closed door and droning fan couldn’t drown out the noise beyond.
It wasn’t long before my solitude was invaded by something not-so-peaceful. The kids played on and squealed in ear-piercing decibels, blissfully unaware there was a momster of a storm brewing on the other side of the door. Before the storm could erupt to full-blown chaos, something stopped me. A still, small voice whispering. “Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger.”
I reluctantly unplugged the fan that had drowned out a fraction of the noise, and listened. What I heard calmed the storm within. It was the sound of life and joy and fun and innocence. All too soon, those little noise-makers will be grown and my house will be quiet once again.
Be slow to anger. Listen. That gentle reminder helped me to hear the beautiful noise surrounding me. In the midst of that noise, there is peace. And I wouldn’t have found it had I been quick to anger.
Source: Beautiful Noise
If you live somewhere close to the equator, you may think you have it made. You don’t have to worry about blizzards, shoveling, snow days, or sub-zero temperatures. The weather reports are so boring where you live, it’s a wonder the meteorologist doesn’t fall asleep on the job. Eighty degrees and sunny all week, every week is not all that interesting. You may even have become a bit snobby about your warm weather location, boasting without reservation on social media while the rest of us suffer chronic hypothermia and mid-winter depression.
Maybe I’ve become bitter about the weather situation where I live. Literally. Because I’ve not-so-affectionately coined a phrase for all the warm-climate snobs out there. Weather Wimps.
Yes, Weather Wimps. You may never have to scrape ten-inch thick ice sheets from your car windows while icicles form in your nostrils and your long johns freeze to your thighs, but you don’t know what it is to endure the harsh reality of inclement winter weather. We in the Midwest are durable. We know how to survive the breath-choking heat of summer and the bone-chilling cold of winter, all in the same year—sometimes in the same month. We know how to layer up, and we know how to cool down. And our city infrastructure doesn’t shut down over a light dusting of snow.
You Weather Wimps will never know the rewards of our great suffering. Out here, we appreciate spring. We don’t take the sun for granted. The first green tree buds of the year are enough to make us pause and breathe thanks. A fragrant flower is not to be ignored. After a few months of frostbite-inducing cold, we wear a spring breeze like a royal garment. The heat of summer soon scorches relentlessly, but we get to witness an explosion of fall colors and treasure the crisp autumn air in the months to follow.
Midwestern weather patterns more realistically resemble human relationships. In every relationship, there’s the newness of spring, the scorching heat of summer, the beautiful yet mournful death of fall, and the frigid winds of winter. Weather Wimps, beware. If you approach relationships the way you approach your weather reports, you may be setting yourself up for disappointment. No relationship is as perfect as a Southern California day. Relationships are rough-hewn and rugged. More like…a typical Chicago forecast.
True love is unfailing. It doesn’t cave when storms rush in. It doesn’t hibernate when emotions run cold. It’s as steadfast as a Midwesterner trapped in a polar vortex. Weather Wimps, take heed. You may be gloating over there, in your heated outdoor pool while we shovel our walks for the thousandth time. But you have something to learn from us Midwesterners. And it’s not just about the weather.
Source: Weather Wimps, Beware
This Life & Beyond 
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