Category: stories

March 21, 2009 mother's heart, southern stories

Sugar Has No Daily Value?

mwah

A week or so ago, I read an article at MomSpark about Lucky Charms — the cereal, not the amulets.  Amy was discussing their nutritional value and all after having received a free box to try from General Mills.  Happily, I did not need to petition General Mills for my own box. I simply had to grab the almost empty one from my cabinet.  I’ve chosen to ignore the (I’m sure) exorbitant amount of sugar present and go with the good-for-you whole grain and host of other vitamins that are showcased on the side of the box corresponding to great percentages of DVs. Yep, the Charms have long been a favorite in my house.  And, frankly, I like sugar.

After reading, I decided to take a closer look at my box and enjoy a nice pat on the back at my nutritional accumen while scarfing some pink diamonds and green clover.  As I scanned the handy nutritional panel, one phrase stopped me in my tracks.  There it was in the bright blue “Nutritional Highlights” box, like some kind of universal cosmic disclaimer.

luckycharms Did you catch it there?  Like me, I’m sure you tried to deny it’s existence or at the very least ignore it.  But, still it’s right there in the last line:

“Sugar does not have a daily value.”

GenMills and the USDA clearly don’t reside in the deep South.  Granted, in my corner of the kitchen table, sugar may have a slightly different meaning than the chrystaline white stuff we generally load up our iced tea with.  For the unindoctrinated, “sugar” is synonymous with “kisses” down here.  Circle that one in your Southern for Dummies Handbook.  “Sugar” is something you get off your children–usually accompanied by an “I’m gonna get me some,” as if there were a finite amount laying right there on their plump cheeks for the taking.  “Sugar” is also something it’s polite to request–as in, “Gimme some sugar,” or sometimes while referring to yourself in third person like “Give Mama some sugar,” as if there were an endless supply of the good stuff just waiting to be doled out.

For boys, I’ve noticed, sugar giving is one of those situations where spitting is optional.  Now, in defiance of my Southern roots, if it’s up to me, spitting is hardly ever an option.  So, to include it as some sort of souped up, tricked out sugar accessory is a pretty big step for me.  That said, given the option, my little guys tend to vote with the slobbery sugar side of the issue. I don’t know if that’s a Southern version of high fructose corn syrup, or what.

Yep, I’m guilty as charged.  I tend to try to “get me” and “gimme” some sugar off Little Drummer Boy, Squiggle and Baby Girl as much as Mommyly possible.  I suppose that’s what prompted LDB to invent the “Hug Store” and the “Kiss Store” to allow himself some legitimate control over the distribution of sugar, thereby getting Mommy off his back, or cheek as the case may be.  So, I am now subject to random sugar rations as the mood and trips to the Kiss Store strike.  Woe is Mommy.

It was during one such rationing that I got into a discussion with LDB about wisdom, which of course, should naturally be a part of any honest dialogue on the giving and getting of sugar.  Since the early Fall, Little Drummer Boy has been involved in his first little extra-curricular activity (yes, his preschool life does have a curriculum, be it ever so fluid).  He’s been a part of the AWANA program at the church where he goes to daycare.  If you don’t know much about the program, check it out here.  I highly recommend it as a fun way for children as young as 2 or 3 to begin learning Bible verses.  LDB has really enjoyed it, and we’ve been amazed at how quickly he can learn the verses and retain them.  Look into this and take advantage of the sponge years to fill your baby’s mind with some truth!  That was for free.  Now, back to sugar.  And wisdom.

So, I breezed by the breakfast table as LDB and Hub were finishing work on one of his AWANA verses.  I can’t quite remember the status of the plates, but I’m sure there was probably some remnant of poptart and a pile of Lucky Charms–heavy on the charms, not so much lucky.  Little Drummer Boy recited the verse for me:

“Jesus grew in wisdom” [Hark! 252 fans]

Mommy: “Good job! Mommy wants you to grow in wisdom, too.”
LDB: Quizzical look.
Mommy: “Wisdom is learning to do good things, the best things.” (Ok, maybe not the most astute explanation in the world, but give me a break.  I was thinking on my feet while hopped up on purple horseshoes.)
LDB: “Yes, good things.”
Mommy: “Good things are like using our kind words, sharing, taking care of Squiggle…”
LDB: “Well… (pause here for effect) I think a good thing is… (additional pause for effect)
KISSES.”

Well, I’ll be.  It seems he has grown in wisdom just like Mommy wanted–at least where kisses are concerned.
Sugar has no daily value?  Harumph. I beg to differ, people.

March 12, 2009 mother's heart

Doo Doo Chronicles: Breaking Up is Hard to Do

dear_john

Dear John,

I don’t mean to dump this on you suddenly, but really, it can’t come as a surprise.  It’s something that’s been building deep inside for a while.  Our relationship just doesn’t really seem to be going anywhere.  Our time together has slowed to nothing more than a trickle every day–and just when I was starting to get into the big stuff.  I know we told everyone we would be spending more regular time together, but things just keep getting messier and messier.  It’s just that every time I’m ready to deal with something really big, you’re nowhere to be found.  You know what they say: “fools flush in.”  I think maybe I just sat on this thing a little too quickly.

I know it’s partly my fault.  A relationship like this takes commitment, but right now I’m at the point in my life where I’m more interested in playing (in) the field–and the patio, and the living room, and the toy box.  I don’t know.  Our time together has been good, clean fun, but I really miss my pull-ups.  You know, they’ve really been there for me–long before you came along, especially when I had a big load to deal with.

I know what you’re thinking.  Everyone in my life thought we really had something going, and I did too.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not flushing the whole thing.  I’d still like to hang with you.  I just really need to be around my pull-ups when I get the urge to let go.  Maybe you can just go with the flow for a while.  One of these days I’ll grow up and turn four.  Then, maybe I’ll be ready to commit to the long-term relationship everyone was hoping for.  Until then, thanks for understanding.  I hope we can still be friends.  Maybe we can go bowl-ing sometime real soon.

Sincerely
Little Drummer Boy

March 8, 2009 on faith

Still Dad, and Still God

One month ago today, my dad had his stroke.  Although he doesn’t have some of the same skills he did (yet), Dad is still the same dad he was one month ago plus a day.  And, God is still the same God he was on February 7.

My dad and my family are in a season of change–again.  He’s been in the hospital for the last month undergoing physical and occupational therapy to regain movement in his left leg and arm which were primarily affected.  We and the doctors are very hopeful that in time he will be able to do many of the things he’s always done.  Each day he is making improvements and becoming more like “himself”, shifting again the reality of what his daily life is like.  Regardless of how close he gets to his full potential with additional therapy and sheer will of character, life has inevitably changed.  Dad’s can dos have changed.  His schedule has changed.  His independence has changed.  Both Dad and Mom’s jobs have changed.  How they spend their time has changed.  Where they can go has changed.  The scale of their lives has changed, time and energy focused on more basic tasks.  The appearance of their home has changed.  Their ability to visit in my home has changed.  The ease of holding my children has changed.  Their presence in our lives has changed.

Throughout this month, two thoughts have persisted in rising above the din of confusion and adjustment, of sickness and care-giving, of schedules and sleeplessness.  Despite the changes, a family is a family regardless of time, abilities, presence and the space between.  And, we will remain a family.  We will adjust, and life and love will continue.

And this:
“I, the Lord, do not change; therefore, you, O sons of Jacob, are not consumed.” (malachi 3:6)

Right now, Dad can’t move as he once did.  But, God is still moving in strong support of His own. Therefore, we are not consumed by helplessness.

Though we are beginning to see movement in his shoulder, Dad’s arm has been greatly weakened.  But, the same outstretched arm of God that made the heavens and the earth is still reaching.  Therefore, we are not consumed by impossibilities.

In the days after the stroke, Dad had a slight slurred speech that has thankfully subsided.  But, the words of God were and are crisp and sharp.  They stand forever.  Therefore, we are not consumed by the silent unknown.

Next week, Dad will come home sitting in a wheelchair, at least for a time.  But, God is still sitting on the same throne of righteousness He inhabited 29 days ago.  Therefore, we are not consumed by paralyzing fear.

It will be some time before Dad may be able to enjoy the same activities he once did.  But, the uncommon joy of God is our strength.  Therefore, we are not consumed by sorrow.

Dad may not be able to work again.  But, God has not stopped working in us for His good pleasure.  Therefore, we are not consumed by inactivity.

Dad is slowly relearning to put one foot in front of the other.  But, the rock of our God still enables sure footing.  Therefore, we are not consumed by dark stumbling.

The comfortable assumption of a parent I’ve relied upon to be strong has been weakened.  But, the God of comfort is still the abundant Father of mercies.  Therefore, we are not consumed by anxious unrest.

God has not changed. He remains. Our healer. Our protector. Our light. His love and His reach will continue as it always has.  In this, alone, are we steadied from the consuming tide of change.

February 27, 2009 on faith

Harmony: A Starting Place

harmony_postmarkWhen I first surfed across the idea of choosing a theme word for the year, I immediately knew it was something I wanted to do.  It was the one idea that inspired me to follow through with some sort of newness resolve for 2009.  I started my word search with a question: What do I want to be different about my life this year? In the space of about ten minutes, the theme word for my year fluttered into focus.

HARMONY

The last few years of our lives have been ones of unprecedented joy, springing largely from the birth of three glorious gifts that have so impacted my heart of hearts.  But, these last few years have also been ones of unprecedented change, and change is challenging.  I came into 2009 feeling tired and disjointed.  The fragments:  the push and pull of being a working mother, the ups and downs of starting a small business, the yeses and nos of raising toddlers, the outs and ins of ordering a bulging home, the gives and takes of nurturing relationships, the blacks and whites of growing a God-pleasing heart, and all the grays and middle grounds and maybes in between.  Like playing with one of Squiggle’s favorite shape sorters, I’ve found myself shuffling this handful of disjointed life parts, looking for ways to piece them all together–to make them all into a kinder, gentler, greater, better whole.

Don’t get me wrong.  All my wonderful “parts” continue to bring joy, and I’ve been able to maintain a fragile, but consistent peace.  But, if I’m honest, it’s not enough.  I want more than tenuous contentment.  I want more than sanity on the verge.  I want more than barely under control.  I want more than a fragile peace.  I want to give my family more than a fragile peace.

So, I started thinking about harmony.  And what kind of peace it brings.

My handy dictionary.com defines harmony in these ways:

1. agreement; accord; harmonious relations.
2. a consistent, orderly, or pleasing arrangement of parts; congruity.
3. in music
a. any simultaneous combination of tones.
b. the simultaneous combination of tones, esp. when blended into chords pleasing to the ear; chordal structure, as distinguished from melody and rhythm.
c. the science of the structure, relations, and practical combination of chords.
4. an arrangement of the contents of the Gospels, either of all four or of the first three, designed to show their parallelism, mutual relations, and differences.

In keeping with what I learned about my 252 approach, harmony is a noun–a state of being, not doing.  When I think of harmony in music, I think of a blending of beautiful sounds that creates an even more beautiful sound, a sound that is richer than the sum of its individual notes.  Hmmm. Harmony brings stability and strength and agreement and melody to my fragile peace.  It becomes peace plus.  Peace beyond.  Beyond just acceptance.  Beyond just contentment.  Beyond just existence.  Harmony is a peace that embraces.  A non-begrudging peace.  An open-hearted peace.  A peace that sings.

Sounds good.  So, how do I get it?  Where do I even start?  Dictionary.com’s quickie etymology lesson, gave me an idea.  The word harmony stems, in part, from a greek word for “joining” or a “joint” and “shoulder”–for me, a body analogy for fitting together in such a way that allows a full and productive range of motion.  A fit that can bear weight.  The greek word (harmos) shows up in this verse from Scripture:

“the Word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” (hebrews 4:12)

So, that’s my starting place–God’s word, again.   The source of all truth and understanding.  The depths of where soul and spirit are divided, it can penetrate.  Where joints and marrow are disconnected, it can reach.  It can pierce the most disparate of dividing lines and weave clarity and unity.  It is the only foundation of a peace that sings, the starting place for Harmony.

February 24, 2009 on faith

Where Resolutions Come From, Part 2

If you read my Part 1 of Where Resolutions Come From, you know that the theme word of the year resolve is a new concept I’m eager to explore.  It encouraged me to get beyond a list of to-dos and focus on how I want to be a year from now.  As Slightly Cosmopolitan put it’s something “that reminds you what’s most important and what’s at the heart of all your other goals.”

Hmmm.  And, what about those other goals?  Enter the 252 approach I mentioned in part 1.

“and Jesus grew in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and men.” (luke 2:52)

It may seem like a small and insignificant footnote to the greater truths of Scripture, but somehow I think the verse is  powerful.  It has something to teach me about what’s important.  I was reminded again of its power a few weeks ago when reading the blog of Paul Young, author of the New York Times best-seller The Shack (anxious to read this one.)  He wrote a post about the nature of significance beginning with a statement from his book:  “if anything matters… everything matters.”  His point was that significance is derived from being, not doing [woo hoo, theme word].  Trying to gain significance from doing is inevitably fruitless.  But, when we live based on the significance we have because we are human beings created in God’s image, our “doing” becomes an out-flow and response to that relationship with Him.  Therefore, everything becomes significant.

That’s a shift in thinking!  The laundry drying in the background and the 50 times I’ll likely wash those same clothes this year are significant.  Washing the dishes in my sink, and the 350 times I’ll likely wash them again this year are significant.  The lightbulb is getting brighter, but how does that relate to resolutions and 252?

The time between 252 and the launch of Jesus’ ministry at His baptism was approximately 30 years.  Other than an overnight Temple experience, we don’t know anything about what he “did” during that time.  Yet, Mr. Young reminded me of this:

Jesus spent 30 years ‘doing’ nothing (as the world would understand it), but the first thing we hear about him out of his Father’s mouth is how pleased Father is of His boy.  Did Jesus become significant because of the next three years?  Nope.  He was already significant.

Whatever Jesus did during those 30 years, it was a sinless pleasure to God, and it prepared Him for the greatest accomplishment mankind has ever known.  And, all that God saw fit to tell us about that period was that he grew in four areas–four areas of focus that must be pretty important in becoming the well-rounded, God-pleasing, best versions of ourselves:

1) Wisdom
Jesus grew mentally.  (watchful thinking, decision-making skills, application of knowledge)

2) Stature
Jesus grew physically. (in strength, in stamina, maintaining the body efficiency and economy that God made)

3) Favor with God
Jesus grew spiritually.  (embracing the ways of God and the permanence of his Word, loving the loves of God, acting on the priorities of God)

4)  Favor with Men
Jesus grew relationally.  (building favor with others, building up others, respecting others, loving others honestly and selflessly)

Even in the daily-ness of life, I can see that almost everything I “do” has some sort of impact (positively or negatively) in at least one of those four areas.  And, each area affects my “being” the God-pleasure I was designed to be.  This year, I’ll be looking for ways to allow my theme word to manifest itself in each of those four areas.  Thanks for sharing the journey with me and stay tuned.