My Boring Marriage and other myths of the new millennium

My Boring Marriage and other myths of the new millennium


We live in a day where there are so many exciting things to see and to experience. We live in the blinding speed of the internet and the microwave and the other means of transportation and communication that are ours to enjoy and to utilize. The speed of the development of communication and relationships remains constant: somewhat slow, in comparison to some modes and medium and somewhat fast in comparison to others. Where are we in the scheme of developing healthy friendships and sibling relationships and marriages, often requires more work and more observation than we are willing to put in. We are distracted and cumbered with much serving-{serving our lusts, often, but more-so, serving our modes of communication and transport} As Martha was{in scripture}. We are able to learn, if we take some time to sit at Jesus’ feet, as Mary did, to be discerning about the uses of the means that we have at our disposal.


As a result of the speed that our world turns, we can fall prey to swifter and sundry myths of life that can arrest us and cause us to live below our privilege as Saints of the Most High God. He has given us all things richly to enjoy. We needn’t put our heads in the sand and neglect the beauty and usefulness of the technological revolution, in order to live godly. Looking at the wonderful heritage of faith and history that we have at our disposal {that is afforded us to do, more conveniently, because of the technological age in which we live} we ought to learn to lead in our use of these means for the glory of God.

The Industrial Revolution, was a season of a similar tumult and problem. God has called the Church of the Living God to wrestle with problems of cultural and ethical import and bring captivity captive, if not in the entire world, in our hearts and in our homes.

I do pray, that our meditations of these things will mature us to learn the importance of the time taken for the basics of human communication and relating. That God would use us to usher others to understand the importance of these critical ingredients of mature human relating. in the name of Jesus, Amen.

Save Some Cheese Doodles for Grandma.

Save Some Cheese Doodles for Grandma

Last night was supposed to be the meteor shower. This makes me think of my grandma. I went back to Grandma’s house, just before the first meteor shower that I saw and that is why I think of her. She is always on my mind. The very dearest person to me, ever, was my Grandma Monica. I know that I will never meet anyone that outdoes her in my heart. God lent her to me and I asked Him so many times for just 5 more minutes to spend with her.

I broke Grand’s heart once, completely out of course. I just knew that Daddy had taught us, that you can love people, but there are certain people that we love that we must never, never emulate. Grandma was one of them. We were in a family party for some reason and everyone was there. I said something smart at 7 years old and Grandma Monica said, you are just like me. I said, no, no Grandma, I never want to be like you! I remember the tears. I remember the way they wisked me away from the scene of mayhem. I didn’t want to break my Grandma’s heart. I just was repeating the sentiments of my father. There was no way that I could know the depth of pain that I had inflicted.

This never daunted the love that we shared with each other. I loved Grandma, we shared birthdays together and she still considered me, her little birthday present. There was no reason. We had nothing in common, except the love we had for each other. She loved flowers and perfume and I loved spiders and dinosaur bones. She thought I was odd and I thought the same of her.
I will never forget the day that I told her that I would want to wear a tuxedo to the prom. Outlandish, we cannot have this. I was making no statement of affections for females, just for the antipathy of frills and such. Still, this antidisestablishmentarianism labeled me to her and got around to others. The talk of the family.

The fact that she missed my wedding by 3 days and persisted that we must go on without her, was mysterious to me. We had dreamed of this for our whole lives and here was I living on without her. I believe that when God changed my soul and picked me up, He heard my prayer for the 5 minutes with Grandma. He gave me more than that. He took me to the bottom of myself. My protected self, could never have seen the real Grandma, that Dad was protecting us from. A nervous breakdown, let me see my Grandma. Not in flesh to hug and talk to, as throughout life. I saw Grandma. I saw the desperate woman, who had to live and raise 2 children alone. I saw the woman who loved her children and grandchildren and lived through the Great Depression and vowed never to be that poor again. I saw the woman who traveled the world and I loved her all the more for what she had left us, in the many dollars that she had saved to give us. I saw the beauty of God’s heart to go after a soul, through many dangers, toils and snares and that, even through excommunication of the church, God will do more to save a soul. I think that God saved my Grandma, in the end. I love God, more, for letting me see her, really. I love my Grandma for encouraging me to go on into marriage to a love that she in life had never known. I love that God taught me that He is the inheritance that we are to labor toward. He saved the cheese doodles for me.

The school of prayer is a dear place with God!

It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart. Ecc 7:2

We are in mourning at the loss of dear little Molly. This was not unexpected, because of her illness, but it is a painful time. I have observed your precious fellowship, holding oneanother up during this season of grief. You have held Molly's hand and Brianna's through the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death. That is the place where faith shines the brightest. The darkness of death, and especially the death of a child is so contrary to reason that faith is the only light of the goodness of God in the midst. I am grateful to have seen you learning the lessons that are so very hard and so very difficult. These lessons solidify your relationship with God and knowing that He does what He says. Yea, though you walk through the valley of the shadow...He will be with you. Know Him and love Him in the valley. Know Him and love Him in the shadows and He will be the light and grow you up in Him. Be comforted that we will see Molly again. She will not come to us, but we will go to her. xoxoxo

Our family and the maternal women's interactions are often guilty of judging the character of a generation.

In the movie, The Family Way, {which I only saw this scene of} I smirked at the scene where John Mills and {I think} Marjorie Rhodes played the parents of a son, who was having early marriage problems. I thought only my maternalistic family was swift to call people "lacking of natural affections" who had not been nursed at the mother. "Bottle fed", in our family seemed synonymous with not having natural affections. This is truly a large leap of spiritual reasoning from the providential distinction of an infant having been attached to his mother or not. We did it though. Many times, in family discussions, I was silenced by the other mothers who simply put fingers to mouth, when a word of disrespect or corruption was coming from the mouth of one or another. They will understand later on, when they have a child or God will spank them on that subject. They silenced me often and categorized the person as an immature person, unwittingly to the person. Always silently, these maternal eye contact kept me knowledgable of the secret society that we were, having gone through travail. There is no way to bring someone's soul into sympathy of childbirth, not having experienced it. I thought we should teach them. No, shhhhhh! God will bring them through experience, was understood. All of these unsaid or single word understandings were spoken outright in the scene of that movie.

The swiftest way to get a negative word from a mother is to attack her child. The father of that child or not. If you falsely accuse her offspring she will attack.

The knowledge that ordinarily a dearness attaches in the nursing process. A sense of humanness and eye to eye interaction, physical and mental in the preserving of the dates of maternal child feeding. I had stacks of books at my nursing chair, some for the child and some for me.

Why should I continue this archaic cultural remnant of our beastiality? Was always my question. Why should I endure the pain of this? What is the benefit of my sacrificing and enduring such? I had my answers in some books beside me, "La Leche"etc.. These encouraged me that there was some benefit.

The other books were for the soul. My soul and the soul of my child. Who is God? Why are we Christians? What do we believe about Him? Along with the early expressions of physical aptitudes, spiritual perceptions were also part and parcel of the nursing session. Not to bite momma, for one. This is the aspect that all nursing mothers mean when they talk about not having natural affections. Those bottle fed children can bite the nipple as much as they like, but there is a human element attached with human feeding.

In parallel, God is in Heaven and in Him we live and move and have our being. He is certainly not to be minimized in His power above us and we in our need of Him. He is loving and kind and gracious, but certainly feels our spurning of Him. There are many ways to teach this truth, but at the mother's earliest nutrients is a strong lesson.