Salt The Walnuts

I looked down at my once-navy shirt, now boasting a white flour band around my middle.

Oh yeah.

I thought back to a couple nights ago as bacon grease popped out of the pan and onto my shirt.

I really ought to use that apron more often.

Violin music floated through the air and I glanced over at one boy who was supposed to be finishing a task. My Procrastinator Professionale. He blinked. I nodded. He grinned.

I wrapped up the pastry dough and stuck it in the freezer. Hopefully I’d remember to take it out before it was too frozen for dinner.

There was a section of Brambly Hedge the other day that especially tickled me -

‘Look, my dear,’ said Mr Apple, ‘if the sea mice can manage to get the salt all the way up to us, I’m sure Dusty can sail downstream to fetch it.’
‘I can’t think of why we’ve run out,’ said Mrs Apple. ‘It’s never happened before. Perhaps I shouldn’t have salted all those walnuts.’
‘Stop worrying,’ said Mr Apple. ‘Look, they’re about to leave.’
(The Complete Brambly Hedge, pg. 193)

You don’t to have read the whole story to get the point here, though it might help to know that Brambly Hedge takes place in the world of rodents and some needed to sail downstream to Purslane and Thrift Saltapple to acquire more salt for their baking endeavors.

But how can the salt have run out? The walnuts, surely those darn walnuts. Shouldn’t have salted them.

Where did those rolls of tape go? Walls. Beds. Cardboard boxes. I should’ve known better.

How can there be no clean laundry? Simply, people kept wearing clothing. And I have not added any more to the washing machine.

How can this child’s shoes be too small? Well, dear me, he grew while I wasn’t looking.

These mice are so relatable.

Where no oxen are, the trough is clean;
But much increase comes by the strength of an ox.
Proverbs 14:4

It turns out that children are messy, keeping a home is hard work, and sometimes, to everyone’s shock and horror, things escape a mom’s mind. The trough could be clean though, think of it – cabinets with no fingerprints, walls with no dents, books with no missing pages. Imagine a day.

Yet those fingerprints came from nosy little babies and toddlers. The wall dent (which one?)? A child’s head, naturally. The books missing pages are often ones that have been read and re-read. Life without these memories would be sterile and void. We’ve all been made better by each season and situation. These little people will grow up to add to the Lord’s world in their own ways. What great increase!

Go ahead, make the effort. Do the things. Salt the walnuts. And don’t forget to pull the dough out of the freezer for dinner.

Serving Him

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”
Colossians 3:23-24

“Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is man’s all. For God will bring every work into judgment, including every secret thing, whether good or evil.”
Ecclesiastes 12:14

What are you doing today? Washing dishes? Changing diapers, making beds, doing laundry? Working at an office or from home? Watching birds out your window?

Our day has been full of this, that, and the other. Cleaning orange juice spots off the floor, washing sheets and blankets, working on lessons and organizing rooms, building forts and train tracks. I finished folding laundry and sat down for a minute, thinking about these verses.

Some of what I’ve done today will be seen, mostly by my husband and children. Some of it won’t be seen by anyone besides the Lord. This used to annoy me; why do things if no one will ever see them?! Oh, my prideful heart.

God sees what is done, always. And it is Him that I am serving - I want to please Him. Will He care if I lined up the corners of my kids’ pants just right when I folded them? Eh, probably not. But, will He care about my attitude while I did all these mundane chores? You betcha. Did I scrub the floor willingly, or did I bemoan the fact that my kids wanted to dance instead of sit with their drippy little popsicles? Did I throw an internal fit because the house is trashed, or did I take a deep breath and smile because it will be back to normal tomorrow?

All that we do is seen by our Lord. It is a gift, if you think about it - He is not absent from our days, for better or for worse! God, the Lord - the one who will someday welcome us into Heaven, not because of anything we’ve done but because of His Son’s sacrifice. What a joy it is to serve Him! Serve Him well today, friends. :)

Hope

HOPE. We throw it in like a pseudo-synonym for crossing our fingers. But lately the weight of the word has been sinking deep in me. 

I work at a day job where I stare into faces devoid of hope. And it isn’t just my students in their too small jeans and unkempt hair- traces of an old bruise that I can never be sure came from typical kid blunders or a parent’s heavily thrown backhand. 

It isn’t only the dads with altered smiles due to the meth that took their teeth. Or the mothers who roll in wearing overly low tank tops, fuzzy jammie pants, house shoes, and what appears to be a countenance of confidence but really comes across as fear in the way they won’t hold eye contact. And it isn’t even the other teachers who confess their frustrations in a way that makes you know the only hoping they do is hope the school day ends without any major screw ups or another blow of devastating news. Really, it’s all of it. It’s everyone. It’s no one. Hope is hard to find. 

Sometimes I feel like the life I lead is small. I’m Kathleen Kelly - I feel like a lone reed leading a valuable but small life. I’m caught up in paperwork and planning, reading data and high stakes testing. It’s easy for me to forget that’s not why I’m there. CRTs are never someone’s ministry. My ministry is HOPE. I have it. I point to it. I wallow in it, so Jesus can leave traces of it everywhere I go. 

When I took this job as a teacher, I thought I knew what I was getting into. We never know. Why do we always think we know? Sometimes I even catch myself saying, “I finally understand what God is doing!” Even in my mind I’m cracking up at that ridiculousness. 

I thought I would teach kids things like math and reading strategies. How to master an outline like a boss. Maybe even how to navigate a relationship with a peer. Instead, God knew what he was doing. Because HE knows the plans he has for me. HE knows. So instead of teaching writing and reading and science, this month alone (9 days into October) I have done what feels like everything except teach letters and numbers. 

This month I prayed for a woman who was trying to decide whether or not she should abort her baby. She’s well into her second trimester, but the doctors think the baby will be deformed. No arms. “There’s no HOPE.”

I also held an 11 year old boy while he sobbed on the playground because his mom is going to jail. He’s the oldest of many children. He’s without HOPE. 

I spent time at the broken home of a student and watched as mom, dad, and stepmom tried hard to be civil and push their hurts and insecurities down deep. Their HOPE is small. 

I prayed for a co-worker who is at the end of her choices before chemo and radiation are her only HOPE. 

I watched a little girl attempt to navigate the trauma of learning people in her extended family were murdered. She missed school for the funeral. She said she’s fine. She doesn’t need to talk to anyone. And it’s true that her face is straight and she seems unscathed by it all, but when we ask mom about it, she begins to list the trauma this little girl has already walked through. It’s heavy enough to make my eyes get misty and forget for a second where my HOPE comes from. 

As I took it all in, I tried to come up with all the ways I could fix these problems. Some great plan to help everyone not hurt so much. But every plan seemed to only put me in the way—God’s way. I needed to love in small ways and leave room for God to be powerful. If I don’t, then I leave no room for HOPE. there’s no space for God to say, “I got this”.

I don’t know how any of these stories end. I don’t know if that woman chose to terminate her pregnancy - a little girl who I call Hope when I pray for her. A little girl I would scoop up myself and let her use my arms to hug us both until our hearts burst if God would just say the word. 

I don’t know if my co-worker will live. I will never see that little girls family reconciled with a life cut short. I don’t know how to help any of them. Not on my own. 

But I can share my HOPE. I can give it away. I can recognize that I was created for such a time as this. I can be a lone reed standing tall and burning brightly, pointing the way toward HOPE. 

Jeremiah 29:11 says, “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” We can be tempted to look at this verse and get caught up on the part that says God has plans. But maybe the more important part is that God knows the plans. He knew our hardship was coming, and even better, he knows exactly where it’s going. And the whole time we can confidently trust in the God of Hope.

Written by Shontell Brewer, blogger and author at www.shontellbrewer.com. Used with permission.