Valentine Schmalentine

Valentine's Day is one big dilemma for me.  There, I said it.

Commercialism aside, it just doesn't make sense.  Happily married couples don't need an assigned day to prove their love with flowers and chocolate because they already have one that would appear to be much more personal:  their anniversary.  To boot, happily married people are likely already finding ways to show their love and commitment every day -- which is part of the reason for their contentment to begin with.  So let's just admit that the rest of us are happy though secretly jealous of that group and push them to the side, shall we?

While I'm at it, can I finally admit that the cynic in me prefers to use "V-Day" instead of Valentine's Day?  V-Day sounds like soldiers storming beaches, or some newly discovered type of venereal disease, and since my February 14ths have traditionally been full of yearning, disappointment and angst (and basically in that order), the nickname fits pretty well.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."  (Proverbs 13:12)  Heartsick is a good word for it, and it's something that no amount of chocolates can satisfy.  You can trust me on this one -- drowning your sorrows in chocolate only leads to weight gain and regret.  Can I get an "Amen?"

And the hopes, dreams and needs that put us in this position aren't wrong -- they're placed in our hearts by our Creator Himself.  Formed in the image of the Holy Three in One who delights in communion within Himself -- and moved heaven and earth to have communion with us, our hearts echo His cry for intimacy.  The earth itself sees the fallout:  "Under three things the earth trembles, under four it cannot bear up.... an unloved woman who is married...."   (Proverbs 30:21, 23)  The resulting dilemma is that those of us who are not experiencing a healthy, loving relationship are stuck, staring longingly at the tree of life, unable to jump high enough to reach its branches.  

Solution Number One:  Stuff the hurts deep inside, pretend the needs don't exist, harden our hearts and become cynical.  I have tried this.  And it works.  For a while.  And then you are living on half a heart and the ice in your veins leaks into other relationships and you realize it's not any kind of a solution you can live with.

Solution Number Two:  Find a new lover.  

I am not talking Craigslist or e-Harmony here.  See, whether you realize it or not, the Man of Your Dreams has been pursuing you your entire life.  

He collects your tears in a bottle.  Psalm 56:8

He dances over you with joy.  Zephaniah 3:17

He delights in giving you good things.  Luke 12:32

He knows your every thought.  Psalm 139:2

He has good plans for you.  Jeremiah 29:11

He will never fail you.   Deuteronomy 31:6

The list goes on and on, and you can find all the love letters He has ever written to you in the pages of your Bible.  No more Valentine's Days spent hoping that someone will remember your favorite flower, or giving yourself a pep talk when he was completely neglectful all year long but thinks that today's bouquet makes everything better.  No more pressure that this day is somehow an overarching statement of your value for all time.  You are perfectly known, perfectly loved and perfectly accepted by the Lover of Your Soul, whose name is Faithful and True.  (Psalm 18:19, Psalm 23:6, Revelation 19:11)

This morning He kissed my faced with sunshine, sang me a song in a cardinal's voice and flooded my heart with His love, His Spirit and His presence.   "My Lover is mine and I am his."  (Songs of Solomon 2:16)  Flowers and chocolate, indeed!  

Becoming a Fun Mom

Know how you come up with a great response to someone -- an hour after the conversation ends? This occurs to me regularly after a speaking engagement.  Last week's was with a wonderful group of ladies at SVEFC, where I encouraged them to find ways to be a Fun Mom.  A day later my mind is filled with ideas that I forgot to mention, so I thought I'd post them here for any of you with ankle biters who need some inspiration.

If you have a child, you have a Resident Expert On Fun.  It's what children live for, it's how they learn, it's what makes them such a joy and at times such a nuisance.  Moms, we would do well to follow their lead every once in awhile.  And contrary to what you might be thinking, you don't have to neglect all that is necessary and wise in raising children to have fun with them; you just have to learn how to have fun while actually *doing* all those important tasks.  In fact, once you're a Certified Fun Mom, I think you'll agree with me that having fun actually makes your job that much easier!

So here are some ordinary chores and routines and ways to add some fun to the mix while you do them:

Meals

Meals have endless opportunity for fun, simply because you have a whole variety of dishes at your disposal.  Let the kids set the table using the dishes in your china cabinet -- and don't give them any instructions.  They will amaze you with their creativity and the job will be done with no whining!  We have eaten entrees off of platters, emptied juice boxes into wine glasses and used pickle forks and baby food spoons.  Let them raid the cooking utensil drawer, too; there's nothing more fun than watching Dad eating spaghetti with tongs.

Shish kebob sticks are a great way to get kids excited about eating, especially when they don't like what's put before them.  Throw some on the table and let kids design their own bobs. Toothpicks work just as well.

Colored meals are a hit in my home, usually on Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day with a bit of ingenuity and some food coloring.

Our family tradition during dinner is for each person to share three things:  the best event of the day, the worst event of the day, and a "Jesus thing."  (Something they are thankful for, something God helped them with, or a way God spoke to their heart that day.)  These sharing times have become very precious to me and I've discovered really amazing things about my kids through them.  They also give me great insight into what my kids are dealing with and how to pray for them.

Bath Time

Kids who weren't so excited about bath time at my house were allowed to sit on the edge of the tub soaking their feet while I read them a short book.  By the time we were done reading, they were almost always all the way in.  Throw your measuring cups at them and any other small containers you have on hand.  Go through their plastic animals and sort them into baggies, then have a "frog bath" one night and a "duck bath" the next.  Shaving cream is a huge hit in our home; it suds up like no bubble bath can and is great for body painting.

Picking up the House

Give every kid a laundry basket and tell them they have two minutes to pick up anything of theirs that isn't where it belongs.  Give some kind of reward to the kid who collects the most stuff or to everyone who collects at least 20 items.

Laundry

Getting your kids involved in this chore is going to take patience because you can do it so much more quickly on your own, but now is the time to teach them because young children are usually eager to help at this stage.  Teach kids the types of loads you normally run (whites, colors, permanent press) and have them sort.  Even better -- stand with your arms held out in a circle and see if they can make baskets through your arms while they throw clothes in piles.  Of course, do this only if you are willing to get hit in the face with dirty underwear once or twice!  Or have the kids create the "baskets" and you do the sorting.  Our family always yells out the load name while throwing each piece -- something like a cheer.  "White!  Permanent Press!  Reds!  Darks!"  Let kids measure detergent and pour, and if you're feeling especially silly, let your kids sit on top of the washing machine during a spin cycle.  Don't ask me for any ways to make putting laundry away fun, though, because I haven't discovered any!  Add a comment if you have any ideas!

Bedtime

Bedtime is incredibly easy to fun-up.  Instead of sending your kids upstairs to put on jammies, give them a theme for their dreams.  "Tonight I think you should dream about fairies.  To make it easier, why don't you go to bed in fairy clothes."  Every house I know of has some kind of dress-up clothes,  and you can always set a timer and give them five minutes to surprise you with their choices.  I know, I know, some of you are thinking that they will make a mess in the process, and that their clothes will be totally inappropriate for sleeping.  Talk yourself off the ledge, Mom, if it scratches or is pokey in the night, they will take it off!

Have a Backwards Night and let your kids sleep with their head at the foot end of the bed.

Take every spare pillow you can find in the house and let them make a nest on the floor. (My favorite place to sleep as a kid was in the closet!)

Give them five extra minutes to arrange every single stuffed animal they own around the perimeter of their bed.  Five extra minutes of fun at bedtime is worth it when your kids go to sleep smiling instead of being yelled at by Angry Mom.

Miscellaneous Fun

Institute a No Talking Day.  This doesn't mean you can't communicate, it just means that everything anyone wants to say will have to be sung.  (Do not expect your husband to participate willingly.  It may be helpful to quietly sing in his ear what you are willing to do after the kids are in bed if he chooses to be Fun Dad instead of Rolling His Eyes Constantly Dad.)

Backwards Days are a big hit in my home, which can be as simple as reversing the order of meals.  Kids will love putting on their clothes backwards and even walking backwards if you are a good sport.

Being a Fun Mom doesn't mean neglecting what needs to be done in your home, it just means finding fun ways to do your regular tasks.  The payoff is not only for your children, it's for you, too!

"Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she smiles at the future.... Her children arise and call her blessed."   Proverbs 31:25, 28

Or, if they are three years old, they might simply say, "I have fun with you, Mommy!"  

Prepared for Plan B

A friend who saw this picture on my facebook page left the following kind comment:  "You are an inspiration and I admire you more then you know. I'm not sure I could transition from Plan A to Plan B as seamlessly as you have."

Isn't that sweet?  It's too bad I'll have to tell Michele she's wrong!

You see, I can't really take much credit for how all of this is going down, not when I look back and see how God prepared me for it.  My part was only to continue seeking Him, while He did the daily work of increasing my faith, proving His goodness and pouring out His grace into my heart.

If you grew up in church you probably at some point sang the words, "Jehovah Jireh, my provider, His grace is sufficient for me, for me, for me."  I always thought it meant God would provide for my material needs and continuosly give me grace, but I've come to understand that His provision for my circumstances is just as dependable.

And why wouldn't it be?  Scripture is clear that God is a planner, a nice nod to all of us Type As who consider our daytimers a second Bible.  "I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord."  (Jeremiah 29:11)  Plans made from the beginning of time.  (2 Timothy 1:9)  He even planned the good works we should do.  "....we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." (Eph 2:10)

If God made those plans, it only makes sense that He prepares us for them.  This is especially comforting when I consider that good works aren't just serving in a soup kitchen or going on a missions trip.  What if one of the good works God planned for Sarah DelliGatti in 2012 included divorcing graciously, without malice and while maintaining peace in my life and home?  Seems like a pretty good way for Him to be glorified, doesn't it? 

Michele, I pray you never have to walk this path in your own life, but don't be deceived -- tomorrow or the day after is surely going to throw you your own unexpected Plan B, and I can guarantee you that just as surely as God has prepared me for this season, He will prepare you for that one as well.  As you daily walk with Him and more easily recognize His leading and His voice, the good works that are suddenly thrust upon you -- the emergency call in the night, the terrifying diagnosis, the horrible betrayal by a friend -- all of those you will handle with courage because your Jehovah Jireh knew they were coming and is even now giving you all you need to be victorious.

My SarahPhrased version of Jeremiah 29:11 and Ephesians 2:10 for this Plan B season goes like this:

"Sarah, I know the plans I have for you during this divorce.  My plan to help you cope started long ago, before you were even aware this day was coming.  That's when I started growing your confidence in my goodness, your faith in my provision, and your hope for the future.  I planned this good work of divorcing with dignity so you would be able to endure it and so my name would be glorified when people see your joy in these difficult circumstances."

Thanks for your kind words, Michele.  Our God is inspiring, and He will be just as amazing in your Plan Bs as He has been in mine!

Prayer Labyrinth

A few weeks ago one of my good friends mentioned she had visited a prayer labyrinth. Knowing that there are no minotaurs in the Bible (though you can find a behemoth and leviathan in Job 40-41 which make for some pretty cool reading), I came home and googled it. Here's a link if you're interested, or read on for the SarahPhrased version.  http://www.labyrinth.org.uk/

Here's the gist: the labyrinth is a winding pathway that looks at first glance like a maze -- but isn't.  It's a path that wraps around until ending in a circle smack dab in the middle.


The idea is to walk through it while praying, considering how the journey of your life mirrors the journey through the labyrinth, ending in the center, where you turn around and exit through the same path.  Apparently they have pagan roots but somehow got adopted by religious folk who started using them as a prayer and meditation device.  (Still, I strongly suggest you pray before entering, rebuking any evil presence that might be loitering at the invitation of previous visitors who are there to meditate on "gods" other than Christ.) 

I stepped into one that's located in Camp Hill. It's a beautiful area and the walk was quiet and peaceful but void of any major revelations.

Switch to another labyrinth, this one found between the covers of a good book. I had it on the summer's reading list to enjoy Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan with my girls, completely forgetting that it's written in King's English, so full of "thees," "thous," and "wherefores" that we all three are covered with my spit within the first few pages.  A quick search revealed what I was hoping for: a retelling available at the local library in today's vernacular.


The girls and I snuggled in for the duration. And what a labyrinth it was! No simple winding path here -- Christian journeys through the Slough of Despond, past Legality's Home, on to the Place of Deliverance, over the Hill of Difficulty, stops briefly at the House Beautiful, through the By-Path Meadow, into the Doubting Castle, through the Delectable Mountains, past the Enchanted Ground, through the River of Death, finally arriving at the Celestial City.  (Whew!)  His journey isn't a solitary one as mine was in the quiet Camp Hill park -- his traveling companions include Evangelist, Obstinate, Pliable, Help, Mr. Worldly Wisdom, Mr. Legality and his son, Civility, Faithful, Hopeful, and Ignorance. 




This abbreviated version of the story gave us just enough of the original without exhausting the girls' attention spans.  Multiple times I laid the book in my lap and sobbed quietly while the girls patiently waited for me to resume reading.  They were undoubtedly puzzled by my strong reaction to a simple story, but inside I was relating my own journey to Christian's  -- I, too, have journeyed on a winding path no less dramatic, often tempted by Deceiver, narrowly missing plummeting off the Cliffs of Destruction only to be rescued time and again by friends, Shining Ones and the King himself.  No simple, winding path for me, but a harrowing journey full of cliffhangers and untimely twists and turns, some detours sent by Satan to tempt and trap me, others by God to test and try me and ultimately strengthen my faith in His goodness.

Whether you meditate by walking in a quiet garden or by mentally revisiting the adventurous roadmap already traversed, the final conclusion is what matters most.  Beloved Pilgrim, it's not the terrain that proves God's grace, but the fact that He walks every step with us, whether we are dancing on the mountaintops or mucking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, for "....thou art with me...."  Jesus, the Master Mapmaker, will see us through to the end.

I'm Afraid It's Terminal

When do you announce that something is terminal? It's a sticky situation. You could announce it at the start, but terminal cases never start out terminal, first they are merely a swelling, an asymmetrical blotch, a minor nuisance that needs to be biopsied first, we'll call you when we know more. And even after the diagnosis is made, the prognosis is never really clear. It could respond to this treatment, but if not we can always try something else, and after that there's always something experimental that might work. And you fight and shift and and suddenly, before there's even the chance to catch your breath, the prognosis comes to you in the middle of the night, not in a doctor's sure and steady voice as you had hoped but in the silent and irrefutable feeling that seeps through your gut like ice cold water, "This is going to kill me." Now it's simply awkward, because the rest of the world has yet to hear the news, since you have been so busy as of late doling out medications and trying your best to fight this darned thing, and things actually looked a bit promising here and there but now this. Some friends have suspected, of course, by the gauntness of your face, but only the ones who are kind enough to take a second look, certainly not the ones who say, "How ARE you?" and have already moved on to the next person as you are just inhaling to answer. To everyone else it comes as a shock and they actually have the gall to be offended that they are latecomers to this exciting bit of news, as if people shave their heads and wear brightly colored handkerchiefs everyday to disguise their chemotherapy. And you are forced into explaining over and over how it kind of sneaked up on you and they should not feel bad for missing what were obvious signs to those few who took the time to notice. But this doesn't really change a thing and the fact is that the world is going to continue to turn whether not you are lying in a puddle hemorrhaging on the floor and whether it is over in 3 days or 3 months. But still, what a relief to finally pull yourself up and rip off the oxygen mask long enough to say, "Yes! Yes, I am dying, thanks for noticing."

39 Going on 11

The Big Four Oh is fast approaching and a few folks have asked me how I'm doing, as if it's expected that something as simple as a birthday will inevitably propel me headlong into a midlife crisis.

The truth is, I don't believe in numbers.  As far as age is concerned, anyway.

Just ask my grandmother, a wonderful, weathered woman who has experienced her share of joy and misery over the past 92 years.  She tells me she is constantly surprised by the old woman who stares back at her from the mirror each morning.  She knows in her mind she's 92, but the number never resonates with her spirit.

My daughters will tell you the same thing.  Every year on their birthday I ask them a number of questions and record the answers in their baby books.  What is your favorite toy?  Your favorite song?  If you were to get a tattoo today, what would it be?  (A great tool for teaching your children why lifelong decisions should be approached cautiously, by the way, as every year we get a good laugh when the girls sigh in relief that their 4-year-old dream of Dora the Explorer isn't permanently etched on their lower back.)  And most importantly, How does it feel to be ___ years old?

The answers are telling: "It feels the same," being the most common.  We've gotten, "It feels taller," and a very angry 4-year-old once retorted, "I'm four years YOUNG, not four years OLD!"

At 39 and three quarters, I concur.  Every birthday I have wondered to myself when I will finally feel grown up, mature, wise and capable.  Every year comes and goes and I am still the same person, only with a few more wrinkles and gray hairs. 

Conclusion?  My body is most definitely growing older, but my spirit can't be measured in years.  It's the most practical evidence for eternal life that I have come across so far -- my spirit was made to last forever, and an eternity of living with no end needs no number.

It also means that I only feel older on the outside, not the inside.  Inside, I'm just Sarah Perry DelliGatti, no age assignment required.  I haven't grown out of my childish fears or my adolescent anxieties -- both continue to require liberal doses of prayer and faith.  Experience and wisdom have certainly had their impact, but I don't feel like I've reached some miraculous growing up point where I'm finally capable of handling everything life throws at me.  There are days I'm fully competent and days where I toddle to the foot of the cross in full awareness of my dependence on Abba Father.  And He would have it no other way.

No obsessing over what is gradually sliding south or the laugh lines that are being etched into my face with every smile and frown.  No worries that I haven't yet "made it" in light of the world's standards of success for a woman my age.  Only the shell of a woman hiding the spirit of a little girl who comes to her Heavenly Father as He desires, with the faith of a child. 

So bring it on, Forty!  Someday I will slip this skin and start counting centuries with my Savior!

Blame It On Phil Donahue

I blame Phil Donahue.  After centuries of going to experts for the answers, Phil is purportedly the first person to shove a microphone into Joe Plumber's face and say, "But what do you think?"  The experts on stage squirm in their seats, mentally calculating whether the cost of their PhDs were worth it, when Joe Schmoe is allowed to chime in with all the machismo of a guy who earned his GED at age 22.

And so it begins, the downward slide, until so many bored stay-at-home moms are blogging, all the while complaining that their houses are a mess and there's never enough time to get the clean laundry put away.

Guilty as charged.  Except that I'm no longer a stay-at-home mom, now I'm juggling a 30 hour a week job, a total of 5 kids counting the Korean exchange students who are packed like sardines into my home, and with all the aforementioned laundry piling up so that my family thinks laundry baskets are plastic dressers that come in pretty colors.

I'll be honest:  I am not an expert.  I'm like every other person in Phil Donahue's audience, busy with my life but still filled with thoughts and opinions that probably matter squat to every viewer sitting at home.  Except that I love to write.  Love to write.  And love to ponder, wonder, question and pray -- and make the presumptuous assumption that my conclusions are worth sharing.  Some might be, and at other times I'll probably be the idiot who grabs the mic from Phil and stammers out a bunch of hooey that leaves the viewing audience begging for a return to the PhD on stage.  That's okay.  It's still nice to hold the mic every once in awhile, even if no one is listening.  At the very least it's a place to vent, and maybe someone will be encouraged in the process.