Routine Maintenance

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Rev. Hubby took my car to the shop a couple of weeks ago because it needed an oil change. And the tires needed to be rotated. And, it turns out, a lug nut on one of the wheels had to be replaced. Confession: The oil should have been changed about 1,000 miles ago. I knew it was overdue, but I just didn't have the time to be car-less while it was getting worked on. This is not an uncommon practice for me. Pushing the oil change to the limit. I hope in the long run there is no damage done to the engine. Maybe there's just a little. Not enough to make much of a difference now, but, over time, those overdue oil changes can add up to some major problems! 
How many times have I noticed a little "something" going on in my life that needs to be addressed, but I don't take the time to address it? "It's not a big deal," I tell myself.  Maybe it's a call I need to make, a relationship I need to nurture, a sin I need to confess. But I can put it off--just a little longer. I mean, compared to a lot of other things that could be going on, I'm doing pretty good. No damage done. Right?
But then I remember my standard of comparison: God's holiness. The only standard that makes any difference. I can't compare my actions to those of a baby-abandoning mother or a dictator on the other side of the world. My shortcomings are just as ugly as theirs and greive the heart of God just as much.  But I ignore it. I'll deal with it later. I wonder what long-term damage may come because of those times I've chosen to put off being honest with myself and with God.
Don't misunderstand me. I am so thankful that God is a Redeemer! He takes the ugly and hurtful things of the world and makes them beautiful and healing. However, there is a consequence for sin. And that is something that cannot be ignored. And so, I am thankful for being reminded, by my car of all things, to make sure I take care of those little "somethings" before they are left to cause real damage. 

Snack Time

Yesterday afternoon I called my seven-year-old Chickadee to the kitchen to do her homework. She asked if she could have a snack before she got started. Then she clarified: "Mommy, I haven't had dessert today, so can I have dessert now? ("Huh? Huh? Huh? Can I, Mommy? Pleeeeze?" her eyes asked.) I thought for a second and then told her she needed a more substantial snack if she was going to be able to sit down and focus on her work--for all of the ten minutes it would take. She is only in first grade, after all.

Please excuse the forthcoming, long aside: I don't remember my parents ever having to call me in to do my homework. Well, for one thing, when I was in elementary school, you didn't have homework. Unless it was a book report in fifth grade, or something. But, first grade? No way! Okay, I do remember having homework in the fourth grade--once.  Long division.  It took me a couple of extra days to fully grasp this concept. I just couldn't believe I couldn't find a short cut. That it really would take so long!
I remember sitting at the dining room table with my mom working long division problems until my eyes hurt. I know she was getting tired of it, too. She did have three other children to take care of, you know. I remember it was pretty late at night. She had to leave the room for a few minutes to check on someone and when she came back I was playing opossum with my head on my arms on the table.  I was SO ready to be done! I guess she was, too, because she went along with my little charade and sent me to bed. I guess that let her off the hook a little.
You'd think that maybe my dad would have given me some tips with the math homework. He is, after all, the one in our family with the masters degree from Georgia Tech.  I think it's probably a good thing, though, that he didn't. As a senior in high school, taking calculus, I asked him for some help. He pursed his lips a little and thoughtfully looked at what I had been taught that day. After a few moments he said, "Look. Here's a much easier way to do this problem," and proceeded to write down what I think was the formula for cold fusion on my paper. He really was trying to help, and for that I am thankful. And then I majored in music in college. End of aside. Thanks for reading.

For afternoon snack, we agreed on chips with salsa and sour cream. Health food, no, but substantial and yummy, yes. And we had some left over from the night before.
She was satisfied. Happy, even, with her snack. And no big sugar rush and crash while ordering numbers from greatest to least.

Pretty much immediately, this passage came to mind: Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!
Matthew 7:9-11
New International Version

My daughter, whom I love very much, didn't get what she wanted. I denied her request. I said, "No." But I gave her something she needed, something better for the situation. And she got dessert after supper.
Sometimes, maybe a lot of times, I ask God for something, and He says, "No." But, as a loving Father, He gives me exactly what I need for the situation because He can see the situation so much better than I can. I'll have just what I need to sustain me and keep me focused. And, I can rest assured, I'll get dessert when it's the right time.