We almost had a fight,

But Julie showed up.

We’re redoing our front yard. It’s only a hair bigger than a postage stamp and only seems to be able to sustain crabgrass, bermuda, and weeds. We are abandoning grass completely and gunning for a Monet-ish garden.

 

We continue to be the bane of the neighborhood. Last Fall, I sprayed the whole yard with Round-Up, still thinking we might attempt grass. We went with this dead look for about six months. This Spring, a lovely crop of weeds sprang up. Then I reconnected with a friend from high school who has a master’s degree in landscape architecture. She agreed to help us out. Her first act in transforming our dirt and weeds into a Monet painting was to dump a truck load of topsoil in the front yard and a truck load of mulch in the driveway.

 

In case you don’t have boys, you may not fully appreciate the lure of a huge mound of black dirt on an eight-year-old’s psyche. After we finished homework, Silas, Lily, Silas’ two neighborhood buddies, and I began spreading dirt with an assortment of shovels, pitch forks, rakes, a borrowed wheel barrow, and a wagon. We all anticipated Paul’s enthusiasm and gratitude when he saw his army of zealous helpers. My understanding was that Paul was coming home early to help spread dirt. Instead, we welcomed home a tired, grumpy daddy who was not early.

 

Paul’s love language is “quality time” (The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman). That means he feels loved and demonstrates love by doing things with the people he cares about – camping, hiking, going to a ball game or movie, going anywhere, really, as long as we’re together. Paul often works in the yard alone (not on the grass), but he truly enjoys the “quality time” opportunity yard work offers.

 

Not today.

 

He looked on our questionable landscape team with utter bewilderment. He proceeded to ask why we had done this and why we had done that. After some sort of unkind muttering to Paul which our little gardening crew witnessed, I, furious, sent all the kids to the back yard. I stomped around putting tools and wheel barrows away, secretly vowing not to touch the yard ever again, as long as I live. Paul, equally brooding, at least in my imagination, went off to mow what little grass we do have.

 

The three boys had a little squabble in the back yard, and not being in much of a peace-keeping mood, I sent everybody home. I wonder if they thought I had gone insane. They generally believe I’m sort of a fun mom.

 

Not today.

 

I walked into my room to freshen up so I could cook dinner and found both Lily and Silas, still FILTHY, lying on MY bed watching television. I lost it. I unleashed all my wrath on my pumpkins, turning off the television in the middle of a favorite program (Phineas and Ferb is the most hilarious cartoon ever created!), shouting all sorts of admonitions for having grungy feet, hands, clothes, and everything on MY bed, evicting everyone to pursue showers. Lily started bawling, “I just helped you for four hours [it was actually more like two]. Why are you being so mean to me?” I did confess that I was mad at Daddy, not so much at her, but I did want her nasty self off MY bed.

 

I was banging and tossing things around in the kitchen when Paul appeared. “I was trying to speak YOUR love language” is as far as I got. I realized someone else was in the kitchen with us, but I thought it was Lily. She was behind me, so I only saw her enter in my peripheral vision. I suddenly realized it wasn’t Lily; it was Julie.

 

Julie is a missionary kid we got to know last year at RVA. Her parents also worked at the school and are some of our dearest friends. Paul has known her parents longer than he’s known me. When Julie decided to go to Wake Tech for college, we invited her to live with us. That’s why she was in the kitchen; she lives here.

 

God sent Julie to the kitchen at that precise moment! Before I could lay into Paul with all my hurt feelings and “You can do the *$%@# yard by yourself from now on,” Paul and I both fell out laughing. Julie had no idea she had circumvented an argument. Later she told me she was thinking, “How cool that they’re talking about the love language book.” She recently read the love language book, and like I felt when I first read it, she thinks it’s the greatest insight into relationships since the creation of marriage.

 

Thanks to Julie, I wasn’t mad any more. We’ve had the movie Fireproof  from Netflix for over a month and still haven’t watched it. We joked during dinner that perhaps we should watch it now. Later, we were able to have a civilized conversation about the yard debacle. The truth of the matter is, very little is worth going to war over. And having a college student live with you is good for the soul on multiple levels. ~ cck

Encourage one another

Bill and Cindy Finley presented a marriage seminar in the Ukraine last spring. The result may have been transformed Ukrainian marriages, but I think Bill and Cindy experienced the greatest change. The short version is that they fell in love with Katya and have been working towards legally adopting her ever since. The whole story is remarkable and wonderful! One interesting detail is the fact that they already have six biological children.

The Finleys have partnered with LifeSong for Orphans, a non-profit Christian ministry dedicated to help meet the needs of orphan children around the world. As a non-profit, LifeSong can receive donations on behalf of Katya and the Finleys and provide their supporters with a tax deduction. Contributed funds go towards the adoption fees that will exceed $25,000, an impossible amount for a family of eight living on a small church’s pastor’s salary.

Sometimes we don’t even realize when we encourage others. Lily and Silas won the NCAA pool at Paul’s office. The pool administrator joked that they should start calling it the Koning Kids’ College Fund. Two or three years ago, Silas finished second after Lily had made a stellar showing along the way. They chose to give 10% of their 2009 winnings towards the expenses of the Finleys adopting Katya. I wrote Cindy so she would know that the majority of my check was actually from Lily and Silas, not me and Paul. Little did I know how much that information would encourage her. Visit her blog for her shout out to Lily and Silas!

My point is not to teach your children to gamble, and God will bless them, so they can bless others. I simply hope to persuade you to encourage others today. You never know who may need a little cheer, hope, or faith. You never know how a kind word, smile, or crazy story will remind others of God’s love and faithfulness. Who needs your encouragement today? To whom can you send a quick e-mail with a few words of comfort? Can you easily double the dinner you’re cooking tonight for supper? If so, who would be blessed by a meal? Little or big, it matters not. You have great power to bless others. How will you use your newly realized super power? ~ cck

If you have a message of encouragement for the people, please speak.
~ Acts 13:15

Encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.
~ 1 Thessalonians 5:11

Encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness.
~ Hebrews 3:13

Koning Home on HGTV

Not really, but wouldn’t it be fun?! We all talk about how we wish HGTV would come and spruce up this room or that, but we never do anything about it because, seriously, what are the chances they’ll select our insignificant little hovel for Design on a Dime or Desperate Spaces’? Nil.

 

One day I was musing with my friend Laura about the wreckage we call our family room. I told her about all our cool souvenirs from Africa that I would love to use to create an Africa-themed room – gorgeous Coptic crosses from Ethiopia; ebony, soapstone, and wood carvings; batiks; colorful kangas and kikoys; an interesting collection of knives, swords, and other weapons; Arab chairs hand crafted in Lamu; gazillions of kikapus (baskets) every shape, color, and size; endless photos of African wildlife captured by none other than my multi-talented husband. I commented to Laura what a warm, fun room it could be if I had any sort of imagination to use all our special African keepsakes.

 

“You should post your room on Rate My Space. You would definitely get on the show.” Of course we wouldn’t get on the show. Who are those people who end up on the HGTV shows anyway? Laura managed to convince me that our goals for the room and the story behind our intentions are interesting. She persuaded me that our history of living in, working in, falling in love in, and taking our children to Kenya would create a unique, episode-worthy angle. Laura argued that “they” wouldn’t be able to resist our story that has inspired our dreams for the family room/play room/office/ex-junk room. Who “they” are remains an elusive mystery.

 

Suddenly, I found myself in the unlikely position of posting the awful embarrassment of the aforementioned room on the World Wide Web for everyone to see my organization-cleaning-unpacking-decorating failure. We haven’t yet unpacked completely from our year in Kenya, and we’ve been home more than nine months. We’ve collected a deluge of family treasures as Paul’s father purged his life of all nonessentials (which, for this truly Dutch, former missionary, is everything other than a couple pairs of boxer shorts and a tooth brush) for his move to Michigan. We have more books, games, and crafts supplies than a single family should have. “Oh, the toys! Oh, the toys! Toys! Toys! Toys!”

 

You are cordially invited into the forbidden room. Here’s an opportunity to improve your self concept and confidence in the areas of cleaning, organization, and decorating. You can always remind yourself, “At least our house isn’t as bad as the Konings!” If you physically came to our home, you would be vigorously discouraged from venturing up the stairs. However, oddly enough, I’m inviting my friends, family, and even strangers up the stairs into my chaos. Please visit our family room/office at Rate My Space and give us a Poor rating. We’ll see if a high number of hits and Poor ratings produce any interest from the HGTV wizards. I wonder how many site visits actually attract the attention of the decorating deities. Maybe we’ll all find out.

 

If you post a comment, perhaps don’t let on that you actually know us (granted, you do know us). I imagine the HGTV chiefs may not appreciate our shameless self-promotion efforts. Thanks, y’all! ~ cck

Macon’s Chocolate Pie

“Mrs. Newby’s chocolate pie tastes just like yours.”

Actually, my pie tastes just like Mrs. Newby’s, and I’m ecstatic over Lily’s appraisal because that means I’ve been making it right all these years.

Not marrying until I was nearly 31 gave me the opportunity to be involved in all sorts of activities that, had I married young, I may have missed. One of those activities was helping with my church’s middle school youth group. Through that ministry, I got to know the Newbys. They married in their 30s and struggled with infertility. They adopted their first child right before I met them.

I spent many days during grad school hanging out with Macon, eating grilled cheese sandwiches, watching her love and discipline her children, and talking about Christ and the impact He can have on every facet of our lives.

One of the many seemingly insignificant things Macon taught me was how to make a drop-dead-delicious chocolate pie. That pie has become my signature contribution at every social gathering between here and Kijabe. Sally Dillon, daughter of my good friends Ann and Chris, will practically pass out with exaggerated melodramatic elation when I appear at their door with one of my chocolate pies, so I nearly always present two or three for Dillon parties. In Kenya, I took chocolate pie to Christmas dinner. I made it for dorm girls and delivered it to friends. Every time someone new indulges in my chocolate pie, they must endure the chocolate pie story about how my dear friend Macon Newby taught me about life and chocolate pie.

I had lost touch with Macon until recently. She is Lily’s teacher at AWANA*. This week, Macon evidently brought chocolate pie for all the girls. I find it unbelievable that Lily didn’t remember that the recipe originated with Macon. I can hardly make the pie without paying homage to Macon Newby. Once while we were in Kenya, I made too many pies (if such a thing is possible) for our dorm girls, and the Konings had no business eating all that chocolate pie, so Lily and I wrapped up individual pieces of pie and traipsed all over the mission station giving them to folks, and of course, telling each recipient of the beloved pie about the beloved mentor.

I’ve always regarded the chocolate pie as a symbol for the wife, mother, mentor, and woman I’ve aspired to be. I doubt my metaphorical pie is “just like Mrs. Newby’s,” but maybe I can be encouraged that I’m at least in the same kitchen. ~ cck

Macon’s Fudge Pie

Pie crust – bake at 400 degrees until brown (approximately 5 minutes; I actually never do this.)

Mix:
1 stick melted butter
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
3 TBSP cocoa
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 – 1/3 cup plain flour (I always use 1/3)

Dump in pie crust. Bake at 350 degrees for approximately 25 minutes or until the middle does not jiggle (I always bake for 35 minutes, at least; if you’re baking more than two pies at the same time, 40 – 50 minutes may be needed, but watch the crust so it doesn’t burn).

*AWANA stands for “Approved Workmen Are Not Ashamed” from 2 Timothy 2:15. AWANA is an interdenominational Christian program during which children memorize scripture, learn about God, play games, and have fun.

Twu wuv

 Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togevah tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam… And wuv, twu wuv, will fowow you fowevah… So tweasure your wuv (from The Princess Bride, 1987).

We do, of course, remember the ill fate of this particular marriage. Princess Buttercup is an uncooperative participant, and Prince Humperdink has self-serving ulterior motives, all of which contribute to the immediate demise of this big-screen union.

However, in recent months I’ve grieved over the number of failing marriages among people I know, care about, and love. One of the most disturbing facts about some of these situations is that Christian couples appear to be pursuing temporal, easy solutions to spiritual problems. Research indicates that the divorce rate among Christians is, indeed, slightly lower than the national average, but not significantly, and the actual results and findings appear to depend on who’s doing the research.

Why are Christian marriages failing? What could Paul and I possibly be doing right that others seem to have missed? Paul and I certainly are not marriage rocket scientists. We are not, nor have we ever been, any sort of example to be followed in the area of successful marriage. We don’t read books about Christian marriage, nor do we attend marriage classes or conferences. Like the members of most marriages, we don’t always communicate clearly, kindly, or, sometimes, at all. We misjudge each other’s motives. We neglect spending one-on-one time strengthening our marriage. We’ve gone through seasons of being ordinary or perhaps even boring. We’ve struggled financially. We keep score.

Granted, most of our friends whose marriages are crumbling are doing so for much more serious reasons than the slights and benign insults experienced in the Koning household. In a few cases, affairs have been the major factor. In others, allegations of or substantiated abuse complicate already emotionally charged situations. I agree with a nationally well-known psychiatrist that adultery, addiction, and abuse are legitimate reasons to pursue divorce.

Can the God of the universe overcome these sins against another? Can the Creator really heal and restore? God will not circumvent the natural order of His creation, so there will always be consequences. However, the God who turned absolutely nothing into a beautiful, elaborate universe; the God who delivered Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego unsinged from the fiery furnace; the God who brought Lazarus to life three days after his death and burial; the God who conquered the power of sin and death at the cross and victoriously reigns on high today–that same God can and will bring new life and even great joy to a dead marriage. Even in situations involving the three A’s–adultery, addiction, and abuse–if both partners are sincerely working to overcome these evils, God will bring renewal to these couples. We know of marriages who faced serious challenges, persisted, and are flourishing.

One couple faced ongoing unfaithfulness. The husband confessed his sin and begged for his wife’s forgiveness. While it wasn’t easy and took months, maybe years, to sort through the carnage, this marriage is stronger today than ever. They even counsel other couples confronting infidelity.

While I realize some don’t recognize this as having a negative impact on marriage, pornography addiction is, in my opinion, a devastating force in marriages. Unfortunately, I know of many situations in which a husband has struggled with pornography or other sexual temptations. These men’s wives were willing to prayerfully work through the issues of mistrust and rejection. Once again, in nearly every case of which I’m aware, these marriages have emerged stronger than they had been previously. One woman told me recently, “I have the marriage I’ve always dreamed of.” A couple of years ago this same woman was crying her heart out over her husband’s obsession with pornography. Jesus Christ really can redeem circumstances we believe to be irreparable.

Perhaps most confusing to me are the Christian marriages ending because of boredom or because the euphoric feeling of love has waned. John 3:16 does not say, “For God so loved the world that he had lots of warm, fuzzy feelings.” “For God so loved the world that he gave!” Contrary to what our culture tells us, love is not a feeling; it is action. And God loves those who are hostile to Him, hate Him, curse His name, despise everything about Him. He loves them enough “that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” If God loves me that much, even when I was His enemy, certainly I can love my husband who’s pretty darn nice to me most of the time, even if our marriage is fraught with imperfection.

So what’s mine and Paul’s secret to blissful happily ever after? I’m not really sure; it’s a bit fuzzy, to tell you the truth. The first thing that comes to mind is loyalty. We promised to love, comfort, honor and keep each other, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon one another our heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, and keeping ourselves only unto the other as long as we both shall live. We knew what we were getting into. We signed up for this. If I’m bored or melancholy, it’s my responsibility to fix it by pursuing appropriate treatment or to work it out with Paul one way or another. In no way do I mean to minimize the effects of depression; in fact, I have been diagnosed with clinical depression in the past. No, depression is not a legitimate reason to walk out on Paul. The endorphins (or, as the case may be, lack thereof) in my brain are the problem, not Paul. Loyalty is one of the givens in our marriage. No matter what happens, we’re both in it to the end.

Secondly, I think we err when we blame our relationship troubles on our spouse. Certainly, with the help of God’s Holy Spirit, the two people in the marriage are the only ones who can address their specific struggles; however, the enemy of our souls is the one with whom we battle. We are deceived if we believe we will be happier or more content once we leave a seemingly unpleasant situation. Satan’s only purpose among those who have put their faith in Christ, because he has lost all claim to our immortal souls, is to make us miserable. He comes only to steal our joy, to kill all hope, and to destroy our peace (John 10:10a). He cloaks his schemes with false promises of contentment and fulfillment. If we chase after these empty claims, we will be left even more hopeless than we imagine we are within the marriage. He causes us to misinterpret our spouse’s voice tone. He goads us on as we are easily annoyed by habits that once charmed us. He tempts our eyes to glance towards greener pastures. All the while, he is chipping away at the very foundation of our marriages, completely annihilating our vows one self-centered irritation at a time. No, we must not allow Satan to win this battle. We must allow Jesus Christ to bring full, abundant life to our broken marriages (John 10:10b).

Finally, I think our friend “The Impressive Clergyman” is much wiser than he appears. Well, maybe not. He exhorts the strange pair before him to “tweasure your wuv.” Marriage is a gift from God. It was His idea, created for the purpose of blessing His children. Marriage is sacred. Catholics uphold marriage, along with baptism and the Holy Eucharist, as a sacrament. Marriage is, indeed, a precious gift to be treasured. If it doesn’t seem to be worth treasuring today, the almighty God of the universe can and will transform that which seems hopeless, desolate, empty, or dead. He is the God of the impossible. ~ cck

Jesus said, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” ~ John 16:33

Retrouvaille (pronounced re-tro-vi with a long i) is a French word meaning “rediscovery” and is a marriage program offered in communities across the U.S. and abroad. The initial weekend experience and subsequent series of 6-12 post-weekend sessions offer tools needed to rediscover a loving, vital marriage relationship.

Pondering the Pen

As I begin to think of myself as “a writer,” I’m realizing the need to discipline myself to write regularly, even daily. I’ve neglected the blog for weeks, thinking I should save my best contemplations for magazine articles or for something; for what, I’m not totally sure. A friend, also a writer, made an astute observation about hoarding one’s ideas. They’re like manna (Exodus 16) – God only gives us enough for today. We can use it for its intended purpose, or it will rot and be good for nothing. He will give more tomorrow according to our need. We must have faith in tomorrow’s promised provision.

She actually gave me this particular advice for Paul. He had started writing a bit for a travel web site I’ve mentioned previously, trazzler.com. Contributors to the site do not earn compensation until they either win one of the regular “contests” or are invited to freelance by the site’s editors – no guarantees. For a while, he was saving up ideas, hoping they would hire him. I encouraged him with my friend’s manna metaphor. Whether because of her exhortation or because he just could contain his ideas no longer, he did go ahead and submit several more pieces. Almost immediately, he won one of the monthly contests, which resulted in a small freelance contract. God provided day after day what Paul needed to create his art. New ideas flowed in abundance once Paul faithfully used the manna God was giving him.

However, I have found her advice excruciatingly true for my own writing lately. A tale or analogy will appear in my brain, and I’ll think, “I gotta write that down.” The thoughts will come fast – phrases, images, narratives, and more. If I don’t get the ideas down immediately, the sudden insight disappears nearly completely. I may try to revisit the thought a day or two later, but I can never muster the same passion I have at that initial moment of epiphany. If I scrawl the ideas on a napkin or scrap of paper before I can access a computer, that helps, but often such resources are not easily obtainable. I’m learning to carry a small notebook with me, but writing and driving simultaneously isn’t always a great idea, especially with one’s offspring in the back. While I’m not sure who cares about what I have to say or through what venue I may eventually publish, I still believe I am supposed to be writing. I have come to the realization that writing is something I love. Writing gives me the luxury of “talking,” but also the time to think through my words, polish the language, and delete things that should remain unsaid. Ideally, the exercise could generate some income, even if meager, to help support my family, but the search for anything resembling fame has no part in this equation.

One problem is that it takes me an eternity to produce something I like. I word-smith every jot and tittle to death, relishing the process all the while. I enjoy researching synonyms, history, scripture, people, and, well, anything. One symptom of folks who struggle with ADD is that we lose track of time. Other than my impulsivity, the time issue is my biggest challenge. I have to set an alarm so I don’t forget to pick my children up from school. I can work on a single paragraph for two hours, and it feels like ten minutes have passed. I simply must figure out a way to write faster, so that when I do start making a few shillings for my efforts, I’ll earn more than I would if I deliver pizzas (Dave Ramsey’s regular recommendation when you need a short-term financial solution). Plus, I’ve got to do laundry, shop for groceries, cook supper, sweep, vacuum, keep up with bills and paperwork, and eventually unpack the boxes in which everything we own was (and still is) stored for the year we lived in Kenya. I’m just not sure how one balances writing faithfully and with discipline with the seemingly mundane stay-at-home-mom chores which are crucial to the well-being of my sweet family. Previous experience has made evident the fact that “working” and “mother” are mutually exclusive terms for me personally; I’m hoping that working from home will produce greater success than the former.

Paul and I recently discovered and joined a wonderful group of local writers, the Triangle Area Freelancers. They are a huge encouragement to us, particularly to me. Their mission seems to be mutual support and encouragement in a generally solitary and lonely profession, with the specific goal of helping aspiring writers to publish and receive proper financial compensation for their craft. At the risk of sounding trite, it’s just a really nice group of people (but with an eccentric and interesting flavor). One member has published over a thousand articles (I promise I’m not exaggerating). Others have published in every print medium from professional medical journals to Reader’s Digest, from pet lovers’ to gardening fanatics’ magazines, from military history publications to graphic novels and comic books. Many have published books. Some haven’t published at all. One woman is planning a trip to Germany where she will work in a bakery owned by a friend of her deceased grandmother; she is writing a cookbook that will include her travel adventures and cultural history. One guy, young enough to be my son, vaguely described a nebulous science fiction screenplay he’s working on. Another woman also specializes in photography and public speaking. I came away from our first TAF meeting with only one thought: I need to get busy. I need to write. I can write. I will write.

Can I do so diligently without my house and relationships falling apart around me? If they do, I’ll tell you all about it. If everything remains remotely intact, I’ll tell you about that too. Does the manna metaphor hold true regarding household chores? I haven’t had a whole lot of success with manna and mopping, but then again, I haven’t ever tried to apply the manna analogy to my mom/wife/home management job description. Heck, I just started pondering creative manna a couple of weeks ago. It’s a brand new concept entirely as it relates to cleaning and maintenance. I’m not sure the parallels make much sense, but it’s yet another thing I may be telling you about. ~ cck

Proud Wife Post

Paul is currently the featured writer on http://www.trazzler.com/. Most of his trips are in Africa, but he has written a couple North Carolina adventures as well. ~ cck

Peter had ADD

I’ve thought a lot about the Apostle Peter recently. He is a Biblical character who undoubtedly had Attention Deficit Disorder. Impulsive, easily distracted, hyper, emotional. As Easter, the reminder of Jesus’ redeeming work of salvation and the celebration of His victorious resurrection, draws near, I consider Jesus’ activities just prior to His crucification. He is praying in the garden of Gethsemane with the remaining disciples, when Judas and a “large crowd” (Matthew 26:47) of priests, elders, Pharisees, and soldiers (”armed with swords and clubs” to arrest an unarmed man who never harmed another person in any way) arrive. One perspective, considering the throng of hostile people involved, is that Peter acts bravely; impetuously, out of anger, and without considering the consequences, yes, but with courage nonetheless. In a misguided effort to defend his Lord, Peter whips out his sword and chops off the ear of the guy standing closest to him*, some poor servant who was along on this treacherous errand, probably more out of obedience to his master than from any sort of conviction or personal mission of vengeance. Peter acts out of his love for Jesus. Jesus had just finished telling Peter that he would betray Him three times before the next morning, a charge Peter vehemently denies, “Even if all fall away, I will not. Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you” (Mark 14:29, 31). Perhaps he was trying to prove his sincerity. Jesus fixes Peter’s mess. He heals the man’s ear (Luke 22:51).

During this 24-hour period, Peter argues with Jesus for all or nothing (John 13:6-10). He falls asleep when asked to pray with Jesus before His horrific, humiliating execution (Luke 22:45-46). He makes outrageous promises he doesn’t keep (at least, not immediately; John 13:37). He disobeys Jesus’ specific instructions (John 13:36, 18:15). Peter does, indeed, deny Jesus in three separate statements (John 18:17, 25, 27). He is glaringly absent during the beatings, crucification, and burial of Jesus (John 19). Thinking everything he has believed and done for three years was for naught, he goes back to his boat and life of fishing (John 21:3).

I am Peter. Often, I’m an all or nothing kind of girl. I can’t seem to stay awake or get up early in the morning to pray. I have the best of intentions. I rarely do as I’m told, even when it’s in my best interests to do so. Perhaps not with words necessarily, but I often deny those I love by my attitude or actions. Sometimes I am absent when people need me. I am easily discouraged and, when in doubt, return to the status quo.

However, the minute Peter realized Jesus was alive, He really had risen from the dead as had been foretold, he didn’t wait for the guys to help him row their boat to shore. He leaped into the water and swam straight to shore, straight to His Jesus (leaving his buddies with the work of rowing the boat back to shore with their huge fish haul; John 21:7, 8).

Jesus uses people with ADD. Jesus uses impulsive people. Jesus uses people who don’t follow through. Like the servant’s rent ear, Jesus can fix mistakes, even big ones. Peter may have appeared hopelessly useless during the three years of Jesus’ public ministry, but Jesus saw Peter for the man he was becoming and prophesied accurately that Peter, the same Peter who fouled things up time and time again, would be the “rock” on which He would build His church (Matthew 16:18, 19). In effect, I know about the saving love and grace of God today because of Peter. Following his legion of failures, Peter proceeds to have a powerful public ministry of teaching and healing, works closely with the apostle Paul, writes two epistles that are among canonical scripture today, and withstands all sorts of persecution and torture because of his stand for the risen Christ. Peter eventually does, indeed, die for his faith in Christ; some traditions claim he asked to be crucified upside-down because he was “unworthy to die in the same manner as [his] Lord” (from The Acts of Peter).

I’ve cut off a couple of ears lately; more than usual, so it seems. ADD is a nuisance. I’ve tried various methods to make peace with the way my brain works differently than that of other people. One of the things I do that I wish I didn’t is talk. All the time. I often speak before thinking. What most people do internally, I do aloud. A friend recently encouraged me to listen, really listen–In a group or in meetings, whose voice do I hear the most? If it’s mine, I should shut up. On most Friday mornings, I pray with two other women for our kids and their school. We are one little chapter of the international organization Moms in Touch. As we were sharing requests for our kids this morning, I realized I had been talking for ten minutes about my kids and my problems, telling my stories. I told my fellow pray-ers how my friend had challenged me. They made an interesting observation, one I had never realized: I don’t ramble on and on when I’m actually praying. When I talk with God I’m focused, concise, clear, and other-centered. It’s true. This revelation is somewhat overwhelming.

While I don’t even need to consider the ridiculous comparison of the eternal impact of my life verses that of the apostle Peter’s, I am encouraged by all that God accomplished in and through that impetuous first century fisherman and by my praying friends’ observation. God is using and will use me in spite of myself. Perhaps because of my inpulsivity and blathering and emotionalism and passion. He is the One who created me this way. Now, if I can just figure out a way to embrace how God wired me and what He has planned for me, as opposed to seeing my peculiarities as maddening obstacles. Ah, now there is the conundrum. I wish I could ask Peter how he made the leap from bumbling betrayer to confident world-changer. ~ cck

* My Paul (as opposed to the apostle Paul) thinks Peter intended to cleave the guy’s head, missed, and only got his ear. Paul points out that Jesus could have healed a split skull as easily as He did an ear. As I ponder Paul’s theory regarding Peter’s intentions, I think it is further evidence of God’s sovereignty and Jesus’ total control over the situation. Had Peter successfully struck the servant’s head, the consequences (Peter’s immediate death or trial and subsequent execution) may have been irreversible even if Jesus had healed the damage. Peter was a significant part of God’s plan for the early church, so he missed and only got an ear.