Faithchick

For such a time as this...

"For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father's family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14, NIV)

This morning, one of my twins was student of the month for his class. The character trait? Honesty.

I trudged in to watch and smile as he was on the morning TV show, looking less than glamorous.

"Are you on your way to the gym," my neighbor asked, joining his sparkly beautiful wife to take pictures of their daughter, also being honored.

"Um, no," I said, looking down at my shoes best worn at home and my deceiving athletic pants. I'm not going to the gym today. I haven't been there in a while. In truth, I can no longer afford my membership, but I didn't want to tell him that. My boy was being honored for telling the truth and I already feel like a liar.

Do you ever feel like that? Like at any moment someone is going to run up and take away your card to write, mother, believe, love because you've been found out? I feel like that today. I have a book that's overdue, a radio interview (thank God! There's not enough makeup in the world today for TV!), people to love, places to go...

And I'm basically hoping my skirt will button and I don't cough on anybody. It's like this at the end of books sometimes, especially since I started this one so long ago. Almost ten years ago, in fact. This "the end" seems like a turning point, although I don't know where or into what.

And for once, that's good.

Because for all the books I can write, all the interviews I can do, the bottom line is that our world is in need of relief and deliverance, just as Esther's people were. Though she was afraid and may have had a snag on her sarong or run out of beauty cream, she answered the call. She honored the gift. She did it all knowing that perhaps, she had been brought to the place where she was for a reason...for such a time as this.

So pray for me as I type these last words and speak on the airwaves. Though I'd like to ask that you'd pray for my words to be bold and courageous, I'll go straight to the really scary, really wonderful part: pray that I'll be OBEDIENT. I'll be praying that for you too.

BUCK UP. GRAB YOUR LIP GLOSS AND RATTLE OFF A PRAYER. IT MIGHT NOT BE HOW YOU PLANNED IT, BUT YOU'RE HERE FOR A REASON. BE BRAVE ENOUGH...TO OBEY.

 

Marilynn Griffith is a wife to a deacon, mom to a tribe and the author of nine novels. Her latest, Rhythms of Grace, follows the insistent beat of God's love in the lives of five amazing but broken people. Visit her at www.MarilynnGriffith.com or at her new SistahFaith community.

Mom 2.0

If you say Web 2.0, most people know what you're talking about.

My response?

Web WHO point...oh. Huh?

Though blogging comes to me fairly easily (thank God, my kids would think I was a total techonological failure) most things that go click don't like me very well. The keys once popped off my laptop while I was finishing a novel. (Like popcorn! It was crazy). If not for my handy husband and my wizard children, I would never program the remote, replace the vacuum belt or retrieve a text message.

Note I said retrieve and not reply. I just learned how to reply this summer, only to call my daughter in a panic half-screaming, "Where's the space? I NEED to space!" It's sad, but funny. My texts have matured from "hey!" to "are u ready?" to "I cannot be there until 4 PM. Love you." For this mom, that was a big dea.

Until now.

Besides my eight novels, I have been working on a nonfiction anthology for women based on the stories of real women and a woman from the Bible. The first Bible Sistah is Tamar and the stories and poems are tales of tragedy and triumph. It's a powerful volume and it's tag--believing beyond boundaries--has proved true every step of the way. A friend who is crazy about the project and very smart suggest that I create a ning for the book (it now encompasses all my stuff and is a network).

My enlightened response: "I just don't get those things. I just joined one and I barely got through that. I could never set one up."

She gave me a kind sigh but kept bringing up again. Last week, while speaking at a women's conference, I said something that was as much for me as anyone else: "Don't ask God for the next step until you've followed through on the last one."

Ouch.

Guess who's got a ning? ME. And guess who loves it? ME! While I have to say everything isn't for everyone (the thought of twittering makes me twitter!) sometimes you just have to try. With a large family and a busy schedule, I can't keep up with everyone, but I love it when the Lord has me to do something utterly beyond my understanding and He makes it work. (Don't you?)

So pray for me. I'm off to bling my ning!

IF YOUR RIVER ISN'T FLOWING, YOU MIGHT BE IN THE WRONG RIVERBED. FIND WHAT WORKS FOR YOU AND LET IT FLOW!

 

Marilynn Griffith is a wife to a deacon, mom to a tribe and proof that God gives second chances. When she's not trying to park her van straight or find someone a clean shirt, she writes novels about faith, friendship and forgiveness and speaks to women and writers about reaching their dreams. Visit her at www.MarilynnGriffith.com .

In His Time

"He hath made every thing beautiful in his time..." (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Patience isn't one of my virtues. And yet, each of my callings: wife, mother and writer are bound and born to and through time.

This past week was the first week of school (sort of like hell week for moms!). My van died at the grocery store and while I waited for my husband to rescue me, I went to McDonald's and met a couple who'd been married for 56 years. The woman had a kind smile as she asked her husband for his coffee while he waited for pancakes.

"He can't hear well," she explained. "He'll burn himself if I don't take it, but he doesn't want me to. I've earned the right now though. I waited and watched for a lot of years. When men are young, you have to let them work things out for themselves. I've earned the right to be a little bossy now."

I couldn't help but smile as she dished out years or wisdom in the minutes before my McMuffin arrived. Almost everything she said had to do with time--waiting, praying, listening, loving.

As I walked back to my van (and my husband) I realized that the same waiting process occurs throughout my life and nature too. There is a season for everything--a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to be born and a time to die. I've been watering a lot of seeds for a long time (you probably have too) but this past Sunday in worship I accepted the fact that some of them might never bloom.

Others of them are beneath the soil, formed by faith, waiting for a whisper from heaven to break forth when I least expect it. Rhythms of Grace hid in my heart for almost ten years before being birthed. Other projects are in transition and though it hurts, I know it will be worth it. My children, now ranging from a kindergartner to a high school senior, seem to have sprung up overnight while I was sleeping.

Though some parts of my life seem stark and barren, ever-cold despite my passionate efforts, the pruning and patience, the hidden life in Christ, will bloom into something beautiful, something fragrant and vivid, something timely and true.

So if your back aches from crouching over an unwilling seed, rise up. Move on. One day, when your dream-seed is long forgotten, you will smell something wonderful, see something real. Your dream will bloom, even if it's not the way you expected.

He makes all things beautiful...in His time.

 

Marilynn Griffith is a wife to a deacon, mom to a tribe and proof that God gives second chances. When she's not trying to park her van straight or find someone a clean shirt, she writes novels about faith, friendship and forgiveness and speaks to women and writers about reaching their dreams. Visit her at www.MarilynnGriffith.com .

A Needle in a Haystack

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.   See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139:23-24, NIV)

A few minutes ago, I got back from the hospital. My youngest daughter had a sewing needle removed from her foot. Though it threatened her joint with infection, she couldn't remember having stepped on it. At first, that seemed impossible to me, but then I thought about all the sharp little things that pierce me through every day, sometimes until I'm numb; things that God Himself has to remove.

We found the needle by divine accident. Baby Girl and Oldest Boy were trying to work out (long story) and he dropped a weight on her foot. ("She might die! You really need to take her to the hospital, Mom. Trust me." Right...).

After a rush to the nearest walk-in, the astonished doctor reported all toes in tact and everything fine...except for the sewing needle broken in two inside her foot!

Yowza.

Today, as I sat waiting for the surgery to be over, as I sit now watching my daughter sleep, I ask God give me a spiritual x-ray and find all the broken, buried things in me. I don't think I want to see exactly, for in some ways, I know already, feeling the hurts turn and bend each day. In truth, He knows already where everything is located, how long it has been there and just what it will take to remove it. The question is, am I willing to be still for the surgery.

Not so much. Just being honest. But I'm trying. I'm really trying. Trying and trusting in mercy, growing in grace. Hoping for healing. That's all any of us can do.

As for my daughter, her only concern (after her pre-operative cabbage patch dance induced by the anesthesia) was that the drug in question wasn't legal for everyday use. ("This stuff could really mess somebody up!" she said giggling on her way to unconsciousness).

What a day.

Father God,

Heal the things that have pierced my heart. Turn me gently to see the unseen remnants of the world, threatening beneath my skin. Help me to be still and open-hearted, waiting for You to come and do a work in me. Thank you for the gift of salvation that wiped away my sins, the transfusion of blood that makes us able to come before you.

In Jesus' name,
Amen

  

Marilynn Griffith is a wife to a deacon, mom to a tribe and the author of eight novels. Her upcoming Rhythms of Grace (Revell, August 2008) looks at race and faith through the eyes of a group of friends tied together by the beat of a drum and an old woman’s words. Visit her at www.MarilynnGriffith.com .

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Moving on Up

And the boy Samuel continued to grow in stature and in favor with the LORD and with men.  (1 Samuel 2:26, NIV)

My oldest son is going to middle school. The fanfare and the emotions are more than I expected. The best part was the blessing ceremony at our church this week. I must have scanned the invitation too quickly as I thought someone else would be doing the blessing, but when we arrived and everyone in the room was crying, I figured out quickly that this would be a parental privilege.

And a privilege it was. The younger boys were at their last school skate night with Dad (They pleaded. It's always during the week so they haven't been all year). Baby Girl had a band concert. So I was left alone to bless my oldest son. Only I wasn't alone. God was with me, reminding me that I blessed this boy every day when he got out of the van, walking calmly while his brothers breezed by him, speaking deeper each day as he tells to stop running and look where they're going.

And so I prayed that God would arm him to be a warrior of words, a master of mathematics, a man that will use his mind, body and spirit to change the world for Jesus. My words weren't long or eloquent, but as I prayed and proclaimed blessing over my son, I felt a blessing come upon me too. The blessing of grace and trust that allows us to release our children to God a little more each year in a world that gets crazier by the day.

I was feeling pretty good the next day, but then my oldest daughter came home and announced that she's officially a senior. Oh Mama. There's lots more praying to do...

Father God,
Thank you for never leaving us the same. Each day you bring new blessings and challenges to stretch us into Your shape. Give us the strength and courage to get in the boat when you cut the ties away instead of standing on the shore. May our hearts reach up to you as our families grow up and stretch out.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

 

Marilynn Griffith is wife to a deacon, mom to a tribe and proof that God gives second chances. When not scrambling to park her van straight AND catch a good sale, she writes novels about faith, friendship and forgiveness.   Every now and again, she shares a song and thoughts about faith and life on her blog, Rhythms of Grace.

 

Doing the Big Dance

Last weekend, my oldest daughter went to prom. Sounds reasonable, right?
Not.
Mom was not prepared for the emotions associated with such things. Memories of my own prom (that dress! ugh!) came flooding back. I listened in horror as my daughter explained that she went with friends because most of the boys were waiting for the girls to ask them!
:::THUD:::

Okay, I'm definitely getting older. Well, Cinderella made it off to the ball (fresh from a day's work even). I can still remember how little she looked going off to kindergarten with all her beads bouncing. How on earth can she be going to prom?, I thought. I still don't know where the time went, but I praise God. My little girl is growing up... (And her sister, who picked the dress, pinned everything and did her makeup is right behind her). I could tell that our neighbors who came out to see were thinking the same thing -- "What happened to that skinny little girl they used to have?"

I think that little girl is gone but she'll always be my baby. Dad is dropped her off (after a short chat with the security!) and picked her up. Just when I was almost over it, I started thinking about next year--graduation!

Father God,
Thank you for seasons. Help us to see where we are and to grow up and get over all the things that hold us back. And when it seems to hard, save us a place in Your lap, Daddy. Thank you for saving one place where we can always be little girls--in Your arms.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

 

Marilynn Griffith is wife to a deacon, mom to a tribe and proof that God gives second chances. When not scrambling to park her van straight AND catch a good sale, she writes novels about faith, friendship and forgiveness.   Every now and again, she shares a song and thoughts about faith and life on her blog, Rhythms of Grace.

 

The Mother Load

Here am I, and the children the LORD has given me. We are signs and symbols in Israel from the LORD Almighty, who dwells on Mount Zion. (Isaiah 8:18, NIV)

I so admire mothers who by nature are tender and loving, whispering and blowing kisses... Though I do those things, I have to think about them. My natural style is more of a drill sergeant with school supplies and a good stock of peanut butter and jelly. With five boys, it just sort of turned out that way, I guess, but it's also sort of me.

In my latest release, Happily Even After, the main character Tracey Blackman goes through the upheaval that is new motherhood, comparing herself (and being compared to) all the other women in The Cry Room. She doesn't even like the name of the place, much less want to be in there. But then she starts to get to know people and learns than no one is as perfect as they seem. Though we're all different, we must measure our mothering (and our lives) against only one standard--Christ Himself.

So if you've been reading books about what kind of wife and mother you should be and feeling frustrated because you don't measure up, don't despair. God knows you and your children. Go to him and say, "Here I am, LORD with the family You gave me. What do You want me to do?"

His answer will probably surprise you (especially if it's to keep on doing exactly what you're already doing). I'm helping with the mom's ministry at my church now and today I have a love visit to make to a new mom. I'll try and remember her to show her my scars as well as my trophies. It makes all the difference.

Father God,

Here we are with the families You've given us. Help us to be signs and symbols in this earth that You, the Lord God Almighty dwell on Mt. Zion, that You dwell in us. Fill us with You so that we can be the mothers, wives and friends You've called us to be.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Marilynn Griffith is wife to a deacon, mom to a tribe and proof that God gives second chances. When not scrambling to park her van straight AND catch a good sale, she writes novels about faith, friendship and forgiveness.   Every now and again, she shares a song and thoughts about faith and life on her blog, Rhythms of Grace.

Life's a Test

Last night, I went to a meeting to explain to get all the first grade parents ready for the Standford Achievement Test. Most of the moms listened intently. A few looked as though there might be some serious practice testing at their homes in the weeks ahead.

Me? I just smiled and chatted with a friend who hadn't seen in a while. It's a little to late to try and freak me out. We just finished the math competition with one son, solo band with one daughter (ensemble is coming up), there's the Florida Comprehensive Achievement Test on the way and of course, the weekly spelling test.

Sigh. What ever happened to just being a kid? In first grade, I remember wrestling with the word breakfast (wasn't that break fast? they changed to phonics from sight reading half way into the year. The seventies were experimental). Miss Fisher had a good stock of Swedish Fish and a ready smile.

I turned out to be a great test taker a few years later when I experienced the Stanford Test for the first time, but could I have done it in first grade? Maybe. I'm glad that I didn't have to though. Sitting there, I thought about all the other tests my kids go through too: pressure to fit in, to have sex, to be cool. There, that's something that doesn't change. Sometimes I think the worst peer pressure I've experienced has been as an adult.

My sons are awesome and when the test comes, I'll tell them that, fill them up with bananas (they're supposed to raise your IQ temporarily) and pray that they'll pass, not only this test, but all the other ones ahead of them. Then, I'll say a prayer for myself too that I don't fail in the opportunities each day presents to be better instead of bitter, to love and be thankful, even when I don't feel like it.

It's afternoon here, and so far I've earned a flunked a few times. Grace is a wonderful thing....

Marilynn Griffith is wife to a deacon, mom to a tribe and proof that God gives second chances. When not scrambling to park her van straight AND catch a good sale, she writes novels about faith, friendship and forgiveness.   Each day (or two) she shares a song and thoughts about faith and life on her blog, Rhythms of Grace.

Setting your Table

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. (Psalm 23:5)

In the midst of our worst battles, Jesus is there, spreading a table (though sometimes it seems like a dixie cup and a paper towel). He doesn't just commune with us on the mountain tops, but He visits us in the valleys as well. It is in these times that the anointing is often the greatest, flowing down over our heads, overflowing our cups.

Though it's a wonderful experience, it's not just for us. This is the oil of destiny and duplication, the times stored to be poured out into others as the Lord leads. King Saul sort of missed that. Though Samuel had found him and anointed him king, Saul wasn't having it when the girls started singing, "Saul has slain his thousands and David his TEN thousands!"

Saul wasn't having it. There was only room for one slayer and it was going to be him. At dinner one night, he set a table of his one, one of contempt and competition. He held a javelin under the table, but his son Jonathan made sure that it didn't make it's mark.

Though Saul didn't rejoice at seeing God's plan unfold at his table, Jonathan had been around the palace long enough to recognize a king when he saw one. He risked everything to be sure that David, the destiny of the kingdom would survive. Later, Jonathan's son Mephibosheth, crippled when his nurse fled the castle and dropped him, would sit at David's table. Though Jonathan had died, his deeds lived on.

Though we may not be royals in the physical world, as Christians we all have a sphere of influence, a round table of community. I've shared a few of the folks who sit at my table, others of them you may never meet except through the grace rushing under the pages of my books. They are people who have poured into me, people I've let my life overflow onto and into, though never quite in the ways I'd like. They have other folks at their tables too, people who I wave to and work with because I know they're good people.

Jesus did this too. At 12, he went to the temple, not to preach, but to learn. Though hundreds followed him, he poured himself into twelve common men: tax collectors and fishermen, rebels and doubters. That dozen and a the women who went along with them changed the world.

Look around your table and start setting places. The ministry that is your life might change the world too.

Father God,

Thank you for the people you've brought into our lives to pour into us, the Pauls who make us reach higher and believe beyond where are. Prepare us for own outpourings into the people whom you've called to be our Timothys. Thank you for the laughter and hope from the Barnabus encouragers You've sent to us too. Fill is with Your Spirit, with the living water and new wine from Your cup. Help us live a life worthy of giving away.

In Jesus' name,

Amen

It's official...

The stomach virus is back.

Sigh.

I'm thankful that I don't have it, but I'm getting a little tired of not making it to the door without one of the boys running to the bathroom retching. It's almost like a game now. Who will it be? Will we make it past the bathroom?

We even had a sicko birthday party yesterday for the Middle Guy, who, undaunted by his pain, kept scheming a way to get to the mall and get a video game without infecting anyone or making a mess in Game Stop.

Riiiiight. I don't think so. And yet, in the midst of all the hurting tummies, headaches and makeup homework, there is Jesus. I have to say, we've had more fun and spent more time together since everyone's been sick than we have in a long time. For some reason, a few of my sons get funnier the sicker that he is ("I'm serious! Why are you people laughing? This is an emergency!").

I'm praying for the rest of the fifth grade (where the bug seems to have originated) but I'm not to down about it. Things happen sometimes. What concerns me more is how my kids will remember them. I hope that when their own sons are clutching their tummies someday, they'll smile and remember the Stomach Bug 2008 and give old (well, maybe not old. Mature?) mom a call.

Until then, bring on the broth!

Marilynn Griffith is wife to a deacon, mom to a tribe and proof that God gives second chances. When not scrambling to park her van straight AND catch a good sale, she writes novels about faith, friendship and forgiveness.