You are Special - Part 2

(I was waiting to post this next one until I found a picture of Brian and I, but alas, I give up. I know I have it somewhere and if I find it I will add it later...)

I watched a movie several months ago with some friends. The main character is a young boy who is dying of cancer. It is a really sad, but somehow uplifting story. I was a mess pretty much the entire movie. The thing I was most upset about was watching his friend, who was a girl, loose her best friend.

I really haven't allowed myself the privilege of going back to being 8 very often. There was so much I didn't understand or know how to process. And now I only remember snap shots.

But during moments like that movie, I am forced to remember.

Brian was a special little boy. I feel honored to have known him. His life and death had a huge impact on my life.

He taught me how to be aware of people. What it means to stick up for someone. How bad it hurts when someone makes fun of you or someone you love. And how to let it roll off your back. I started to loose a bit of the fear I had of people. I cared less of what they thought. I remember feeling very strongly about that even then.

There is a book by Max Lucado entitled, You are Special. It is a children's book and is one of my favorites. I cry every time I read it to my kids. I cry for many reasons. Brian is one of them.

The book is about Punchinello, a little Wemmick who had only dots. The Wemmicks were wooden people who spent all of their time and energy giving other Wemmicks stickers. They were consumed with watching others to see what kind of sticker they deserved.

Would it be a star? Or a dot?

Punchinello wasn't like the other Wemmicks. He couldn't jump high, instead he would fall. And when he fell his paint would chip. Each time, the other Wemmicks would run up and give him more dots. Some would give him dots simply because he had only dots!

Having only dots made him sad. It made him feel like a bad Wemmick. But one day he met someone who didn't have any marks. It's not that the others didn't try to give her stars or dots, it's just that they wouldn't stick!

"That's the way I want to be," thought Punchinello. So he asked her how she did it.

She took him to the wood carver's shop. There he met Eli. At first he was scared and started to leave. But as he turned to leave, the sound of someone calling his name stopped him in his tracks.

"You know my name?"

Of course he did. He was his maker and he had been expecting him.

Punchinello asked Eli why the stickers didn't stick to his friend. "Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them. They only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about their stickers." Was his answer.

Brian was my friend who showed me how to not let the stickers stick.

He had cystic fibrosis and would often have to run to the bathroom to cough up the mucus that was filling his lungs. No matter what the other children said, never once did I hear him respond. He chose to not let the stickers stick.

I came across a passage in Luke recently that struck me hard relating to this issue.

"Master," said John, "we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we tried to

 stop him, because he is not one of us." "Do not stop him," said Jesus, "for whoever is

not against you is for you."  9:49-50

Did you catch it?? Did you see what John was trying to do?? He was trying to give that man a dot! A big, black one and he was trying to get Jesus' permission to do it!!

How often do we do the same? We busy ourselves dissecting the lives and motives of others, even those who are doing the work of God. We get so busy giving them stars and dots. Both are wrong.

Both are wrong.

You know, I really don't need the help of others. I'm pretty good at giving stickers to myself. I do it constantly. I compare myself to you.  I judge myself, measure my self-worth according to you. Yes, you the reader!

Something else Eli said in the story was, "Who are they (or you) to give stars or dots? They're Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special."

So how many stickers do you have? Do you have lots of stars or dots? How many have you given to yourself?

I don't know about you, but I am getting pretty itchy.

I'm ready for them to fall off. I'm ready for my Maker to show me how it doesn't matter what others or even what I think of myself. It's what He thinks and He thinks I'm pretty special. Just as He did Brian and just as He does you.

And now Brian is in the arms of His maker completely wiped clean of all those stars or dots. Instead he has been given a crown, which I'm sure didn't sit long on his head before he placed it before the feet of Jesus.

Oh to be whole. To be pure. To be wiped clean, really really clean! How I long for that.

Thank you my sweet friend for pointing me to the Christ. I can't wait for you to introduce us when we meet face to face.

You are Special - Part 1

I was lying in bed, almost asleep,

then the words started coming,

my heartbeat quickened,

my eyes flew open

and I knew...

it was time.

Time to write about Brian.

But where to begin? How do I begin? How do I go back to being 8 again? I can only try.

I remember the big hallways. It was all brown somehow. It smelled like pencil erasers, chalk, teacher's perfume and someone's turkey sandwich. I wore brightly colored clothes, two pairs of socks scrunched down on top of one another and a side pony tail. I was small. I was skinny. I was a prime target.

But I didn't care. I wasn't scared. Because I had a job.

I took that job very seriously. It was more than a job, it was a friendship. And I took it seriously.

Brian was small too and skinny.

I remember his smile. I remember his hands. His shoes that looked too big for his small body. I remember loving him.

I remember walking into class each day of second grade wondering if he'd be there. I remember where he sat, where I sat just across from him.

I remember being angry that his seat was in the back. It should have been in the front. Why didn't the teacher move him to the front?

I remember the stares. I remember my arm somehow encircling him, protecting him and staring back even harder. Why did they do that?

I remember his jokes. Him laughing. Me laughing. He would flip his eyelids inside out to make me scream. And I would.

I remember wishing he could come out on the playground. The days he could were the best.

I remember taking him his homework, walking into his room, him lying in bed. Smiling. What did we talk about? Did I tell him how much I loved him?  That I wanted to always be there for him. That it would be ok. Did I hold his hand?

I remember my mom's face. It looked tight. Sad. Something was happening that I didn't understand. Did Brian know?

We were going to get married. Of course we would. I loved him. With all my heart. I wanted him to be ok, to get better. I just knew he would.

He did get better.

I remember when Mom told me. I was in her room. I think she had been crying. "Brian's gone to heaven, honey," she said.  Does that mean he's better now, I wondered. Then I cried. Had I ever cried that much before?

I remember the church. I sat with my classmates. I didn't understand and was a little scared. There were priests in long robes saying things I couldn't understand. There was crying. I was so, so sad.

I remember the grave site. I saw a flower on the ground and I picked it up. It wasn't real. This didn't feel real. I wanted to go home.

I remember school wasn't the same anymore. There was an empty seat. No one stared. There was still laughing. Kids playing. It didn't seem right. I got the chicken pocks.

I missed my friend. He had gone to heaven. He was better now. I was glad, but I still missed my friend.


to be continued...

Surprises

This morning I woke up to a wonderful surprise.

For once it wasn't screaming or some kind of pounding noise or the need to referee. It was my three children quietly knocking on the door, then poking their heads in and asking if they could come in. I of course said yes, wondering who these nice little children were!

And to my great surprise, they carried in a tray with tea and toast! There was even a little 'table' cloth and a homemade butterfly adorning the tray and a towel "in case you spill your tea".

I was completely and very pleasantly shocked by this sweet gesture. They wanted to bless me and they did.

But the best part I think was the conversation that followed. Olivia asked if I wanted to be alone but I said that I would rather they stay (and watch me eat!). We talked and laughed and cuddled and shared funny stories.

I mostly listened to them take turns talking about silly little things. I love listening to my kids. They are so funny and smart and have real thoughts!! I love it when they let me inside their little hearts, there is so much to see and know and learn.

The toast might have been dry and the tea lukewarm, but I would gladly choose that over a gourmet meal prepared by a fine chef any day.

Later in the morning I received another surprise...

God sometimes has very humorous ways of keeping us humble. And also is so faithful to provide a way of escape from the temptations we face. So to avoid the temptation of boasting in my children or possibly in my mothering, God was so kind to allow my children to...

lock me out of the house

on purpose

in the rain

How quickly I was reminded that the only thing worth boasting in, is our Lord. Everything else... well... is just so dang fickle!!

So thankful for the fun surprises that come our way. Sometimes we have to search for them and find the hidden treasures. But sometimes they are delivered to you in the form of dry toast and cold tea by 3 small children who aren't ashamed to show you their sweet love.

In light of this season of Lent and the days leading up to Easter, and the fact that I have been in an intense, indepth study of Christ's last moments on this earth, I thought I would post the lyrics of one of my favorite songs. It goes perfect with this time of year and the holiday we are preparing to celebrate.


How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He would give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon a cross
My guilt upon His shoulders
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no powr's, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom
©1995 Kingsway's Thankyou Music
Words and Music by Stuart Townend

To Answer the Question...

Why was Levi hiding in the van??

Many of you who read my last post have asked me (and members of my family) how Levi got to be in the van and why he was hiding there.

While typing out that post I started to include the reason, but thought I would spare him possible embarrassment. (Love covers a multitude of sins =0] )

But since it has become an 'issue' I will give a brief explanation.

Levi is experiencing, what we like to call, 'growing pains'. He never had the 'terrible two's' like most children do. Instead, we are now dealing with the 'furious fours'. 'Furious', because, well, he's just mad about a lot of things right now.

He's mad because 'Mommy said so'.
... and because 'You just have to.'
...but he just 'Doesn't want to'.

So there have been lots of 'discussions' and 'attitude adjustments' going on lately.

What happened last Wednesday was just another manifestation of the 'furious fours'. 'Mommy said so', he 'didn't want to'.... so he hid in the van.

It was a very deliberate way of saying to mommy, "Not only do I not want to, I will not, therefore I will hide in the van and stay quiet when you call my name... at least until I get board." (which if you remember lasted about 30 terrifying minutes)

Although it was intentional, I don't believe he fully understood what he was doing. He didn't realize that I would assume the very worst had happened to him or that I would almost call the police or that I would end up collapsing on the floor after he had been found.

He simply was trying to prove a point to me.

Unfortunately for him, I then had to prove a very important point. And I did.

Unfortunately for me, he is still trying to process that point. (yesterday I caught him crawling into a cabinet after I told him to do something he didn't want to do) So, it continues...

But it's a process for all of us, isn't it? We are all the same in this journey called life. We all have a common struggle called sin. We all have a need for a Redeemer. And we all must go through a process even after we are His.

It is a long, difficult process.

Thankfully, our Father isn't one to collapse or faint or panic or cry out in exasperation. He is long suffering... His love endures forever... and He will never forsake us.

So as I deal with my son's waywardness and disobedience, I am forced to deal with my own. It is probably one of the most uncomfortable tasks I have ever faced. Because I am constantly being reminded of my own sin. Thankfully the Way has been provided for us. And we don't have to be perfect. Because He was.

What a truly wonderful thought!