Tag Archives: prayer

Seeds or Stones?

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Sunflowers

Sunflowers

Jill’s new neighbor had the most glorious sunflowers growing so tall that she could see them over the fence.  When her neighbor caught her peeping, Jill blushed and said she wished she could grow sunflowers. 

“I’ll give you some seeds,” her neighbor said.  “Water and they’ll grow!”

The next day Jill found a tiny plastic bag that had been stapled shut lying on her walkway leading to the door.  She went right into her backyard garden area and planted each pebble-like seed about a foot apart and generously watered it.  She watered and weeded the area every day but after two weeks there was still no sign of anything growing except the occasional weed.  She added plant food and nutrients but a week more passed and still nothing. 

At the end of the next week she ran into her neighbor as they were both leaving home. 

“Oh, my, I’m so sorry!  Just a minute…,” said her neighbor and a moment later she came running from her house with a small cup and gave it to Jill.  “Here’s the seeds I promised.  I’m sorry I forgot to bring them sooner.”

When her neighbor left Jill ran back into her own house and grabbed the tiny bag with the seeds she had planted, the ones that looked like gravel.  She realized she had planted these tiny stones, the kind businesses use to weigh down the business card they staple to the bag.  She assumed they were the seeds.  No wonder nothing grew!

We’ve all been a bit silly at times, and we’ve all been impatient to see something happen, see something grow, or see something we’ve started come to fruition. 

My prayer in blogging is twofold:  plant seeds to grow faith in God by writing and writing to earn my living.  To avoid dropping stones that won’t sprout – I know I’m a wordy bird writer – I’m cutting back the blogs to twice a week for now.  Any feedback is greatly appreciated and I thank you all for your support! 

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1 (ESV)

 

Cover

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As the new Marines celebrated their graduation day with family and friends, we noticed the subtle and overt changes in each of the young men and women.  An obvious change was that each wore a “cover”, a hat in civilian terms, and each was meticulous in being correct about when and where it was okay to wear their cover.  Wear the cover outdoors but don’t wear the cover when sitting to eat outdoors.  The cover was slipped on and off at, pun intended, the drop of a hat.  As I watched these shiny young faces beneath their shiny new covers doing their best to be mindful of protocol I was struck by the thought that these are our protectors, these are our military, these are the latest group of men and women committed to serve and cover us. 

And because my son was one of them, my mommy-heart did a flip and I prayed, silently, fervently, for each one on the grounds that day.  

I watched them with their families, proud, some uncertain in their new roles, some yearning for recognition, some humble, some confident, some cocky, some just so happy to be a part of something bigger.  But each one wore their cover as a badge of honor and I kept noticing these and thinking what it meant to me, to my life, my country.   

I put out a mass email asking for people to send me their Thanksgiving thoughts to send on to my son.  It’s a tradition of ours to share what we are thankful for by writing on slips of paper, folding them and placing in a basket, and then later passing the basket around, picking one and reading it aloud.  The idea is that since he can’t be here and we can’t be there, I can mail these for him to see.  I know it’s important to him as he sent his home last year when he couldn’t be here for Thanksgiving – he wanted to make sure we had his to share.  This year, I want him to have not just ours, but many others to share. 

I’ve heard from people I really don’t know except as business contacts.  I’ve heard from dear ones who have sent a quick blurb to share.  Each has shared a piece of their heart in telling what they are thankful for.  One hit the very essence of why and how our military covers us, why my son and others are there, and how they impact lives and futures of others.   

“My wife and her family owe their life’s to the USAF of WWII, who liberated her and her family from 5 years of German occupation in the Netherlands and I and my family from 3 ½ years of prisons and concentration camps under the Japanese in Indonesia.  It is people like us, who have experienced oppression, who realize, that we can’t sit back and (we) have to stop terrorism and fight for freedom.”

Wow.  I am so thankful for this note.  And I desperately needed to hear this.  I know my son will value this as even I cannot.

How proud I am to be a military service family, to have grown up as a military brat, and now to be a Marine mom.  I have always been aware of the military’s purpose in covering  us, protecting us; I haven’t always heard the personal stories like this one.  

Cover.  Shield. Protect. 

I pray for those who serve, those who have chosen to cover us, who have sworn to be the shield between us and oppression and terror, those who offer their own lives to protect us from an evil that most of us will never know thanks to them.  While they’re covering us, God is covering them. 

He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.  Psalm 91:4

Breakfast Brownies

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We’ve started a thing, Hannah and I.  Brownies for breakfast.  Not just plain chocolate brownies but brownies with walnuts and peanut butter.  Yum.  It came about because she ate my last cherry turnover one night – my favorite breakfast treat.  Looking in the cupboard I came across a walnut brownie mix that I have no idea how it got into my cupboard and told her to make them after school the next day.  And she did.  I came home after working late to the oh-so-decadent fragrance of warm, gooey, chocolatey brownies still sitting on top of the stove.  More yum. 

I got busy and forgot about them (I think the smell had me mesmerized into thinking I’d actually consumed one) but when I went to make the coffee I noticed them, still perfectly uncut in the brownie pan.  I quickly cut them and placed them under the glass covered cake pedestal that had housed a bundt cake a few weeks ago.  Hannah trailed out of her room (the cave), saw them and had one.  

“Breakfast,” she said. 

And that started it.  We’ve since made walnut brownies each week and cut them into cute little squares and placed them prettily on display, the perfect morning sweet.

My kids have always loved brownies.  One of my favorite memories of brownie baking is of Sam at around four.  He would sit up on the counter as we made brownies.  He’d pour in the mix, crack and add the egg, pour in the measured oil and water, and stir.  Oh, it was messy and it wasn’t perfect but it was absolutely, perfectly wonderful.  One day as we chatted while we went through our process he got really quiet and looked at me seriously.

“Mommy?”  (How I miss those days of being Mommy!  I cried for a week when I became Mom.)

“Yes, Sam?”  A speck of chocolate flour was on his nose and the goopy brownie mix had traveled from his hands to up his arms with a little tale-tell bit around his mouth where he’d licked the stirring spoon.

“Will my wife know how to make brownies?”

Be still my heart!  Where is this coming from?  Ah, yes.  Often when we prayed together at night I would ask God to bless the girls that would someday be the wives of our boys.  I would pray for them to have good homes, with parents who loved them, and to know safety.  I would pray for them to know Jesus…for them to come to know Him.  I would pray for God to prepare these little girls to be the women He had planned for them to be so that they could be the best wives for these little boys. And then I’d pray for the boys to be good men.  And Sam had listened.

“I don’t know, my Sammie Lamb, but I hope so. Not all girls are raised to know how to cook, but if she wants, we can teach her. ”

His face frowned in concentration as he contemplated something so foreign to what he himself knew.   I was blessed to be able to be at home part of the day, to be able to cook and bake and savor the fleeting, precious moments while my babies were young.  Every day brought something new and warm and amazing to discover about my children, and every moment brought them closer to growing up.

He gave the mix a vigorous stir and handed it to me to pour into the pan and hung his head sadly, “Okay… but she needs to be able to make brownies.”

I tried to hide the giggle that bubbled at his seriousness.  “Well, son, if she can’t, you can.  You know how to make brownies.”

His gaze shot to mine and a slow grin spread along with a decisive nod.  “Yes, I can.  I can make the brownies.”  And with that he was off the counter, racing to find Aaron and get back to their Star Wars Battle Station Galactica play set.  I knew that as soon as they heard the timer buzz they’d both be there, ready for milk and warm brownies.

Brownies aren’t just for breakfast; they’re an offering, a delicious prayer that my grown up babies will find that safe, sure, and giving love with a special someone  God has prepared for them.

Someone who will take the time to go into the kitchen of life with them, open a box of brownie mix, and together add the ingredients that are as necessary for brownies as for marriage.  Faith in God like eggs to hold it all together; purpose like water that converts sucrose to glucose and maltose to glucose, to make committed decisions and thoughtful choices that lead them toward their shared goals; and ardor like oil to moisten their lives with laughter, adventures, and memories.  Maybe they’ll throw in some nuts for fun, or some peanut butter for whimsy.  And as the years go by, they will stir and stir, pour and bake, and create something more wonderful than they could ever imagine, just because all the right things were added.  

Because without those key ingredients, a brownie is just not a brownie.

It’s only Monday and the walnut-peanut butter-brownie pile has dwindled noticeably.  I admit nothing.  Hmmm.  Better get the brownie mixing bowl out again.  Can’t start the day without a good breakfast brownie!