Sunrise With A Six Pack - Blog

January 30, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

When You Think Praying Is Like Buying a Lottery Ticket

It was 2:45 am.

That’s never a good time for the phone to ring.

It’s an emergency.

Her panicked voiced whispered over the line.

A precious little girl. My own 3-year-old’s best friend. A brain tumor. She’s only 3.

I don’t know how many times I’ve prayed for her. Countless. Add to that the countless times my little one has prayed for her bestie.

My sweet girl doesn’t understand of course. She just knows to pray.

Please help her to feel better, God.

Her mother’s voice over the line.

We need to take her to the hospital. She has spiked a fever.

We need help with the kids.

Fevers come and go in these growing bodies, but chemo and a shunt bring fevers to a new level of fear.

One of us will be right there.

I prayed that the words sounded calm and reassuring.

My warrior, bleary-eyed and solemn, dressed quickly, grabbed flight gear for the morning, and drove off into the freezing black night.

Now, I’ve prayed for many things in my life. I’ve prayed for the important, the trivial, the self-serving, the self-sacrificing. I’ve prayed most fervently for my children, my husband, my family and friends. I’ve begged for miraculous cures that never came. I’ve prayed for another’s change of heart, only to find my heart was the one needing change. I’ve prayed wordlessly. I’ve prayed desperately. I’ve prayed tear streaming sobs, and I’ve prayed worn tearless sorrow. I’ve prayed praise and thanks and disbelief. I have prayed.

Then, a flicker in my thoughts,

Do You hear them?

How do you pick the ones You will answer?

Will this one matter?

Stunned, I wondered, what if my prayer is like buying a lottery ticket?

Will this one win?

I pray, most of the time, for His will. But what if…

What if Your will is No?

What if Your will breaks these wounded hearts… again?

What if You don’t pick this one?

Why do I doubt Your good and perfect plan?

It was 3:30 am. Only a few hours until the bustling of breakfast. I picked it up… the Word He gives us. I prayed the emergency… 911.

I prayed Psalm 91 aloud in the darkness of my bedroom, illuminated only by the light from my phone.

You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day… (Psalm 91:5)

I read the Psalm again and again, with each reading allowing the words to sink deeper and speak louder to my shivering soul. I prayed it for our precious little friend, I prayed it for my warrior, I prayed it for my children… I prayed and prayed. Then, the words…

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.” (Psalm 91:14-16)

I prayed it out loud and His words shot through my dense human shield.

He hears. He answers. The answer may live here or in eternal heaven… but He answers.

He answers because. I. Love. Him.

It’s not about every prayer becoming the winning pick.

It’s not a luck of the draw.

It’s not anything we can buy.

He picks me. He picks you.

He picks us because He loves us.

I win. We win. Every time.

He met me right there on that dark, bitter cold night. He soothed my fears and He answered.

The fever is due to a virus. It’s not oncology related.

Her weary daddy answered the next morning.

We are going home in a little while.

It’s going to be another one of those days.

Another day of answered prayer. This one pleasing our human wishes. This one allowing our hearts rest and calm.

I don’t know when the next one will be needed. We keep on praying. Praying for His will. Praying for His strength. Praying for His peace that transcends all understanding.

We pray.

He answers.

It’s not a lottery ticket.

It’s a gift that pays out for all eternity.

He already paid the price.

Job 36: 5,7

“God is mighty, but does not despise men; he is mighty, and firm in his purpose. He does not keep the wicked alive but gives the afflicted their rights. He does not take his eyes off the righteous; he enthrones them with kings and exalts them forever.

Karin signature

January 25, 2013 by Karin 4 Comments

It’s Not My Problem… Or Is It?

It’s not my problem.

How many times have I heard that phrase or thought those words? How many times have I muttered,

It’s not my problem.

We are inundated every week… sometimes every day… with problems, problems, problems.

We face problems of our spouses, our kids, our friends, our parents, our brothers, our sisters, our neighbors, our neighbors’ brothers and sisters, our kids’ friends, our parents’ kids (oh, that’s us… yes we have our own problems, too!), our friends’ spouses and kids, and on and on and on. You get the picture. Problems are all around us, all of the time. Never mind problems facing our country, other countries… our world. It becomes very easy, and much less painful, to say…

It’s not my problem.

My oldest walks in, fuming, following an interaction with a friend. He burns with a young temper, blurred eyes, and heavy heart. He tells of the woes of another. Angry, he spouts,

It’s not my problem!

A friend on the phone. Frustrated, angry, bone weary from burdens.

It’s not my problem.

Our minds at times are drenched with woes, heartache, worries, fears… just plain pain.

It’s not my problem.

Or, is it?

When one part of a body aches, suffers, or fails ~ does the rest of the body whisper,

It’s not my problem.

When a clot forms, an artery is blocked, a vessel bursts ~ does the brain insist,

It’s not my problem.

When the left half of the heart fails, congestion of the veins in the lungs cause fluid to build ~ do the lungs scream,

It’s not my problem.

What about a member of His body? This body here on Earth walking through disaster, desperation, depression, denial, death. What do we say to the maimed and wounded parts of His body?

It’s not my problem.

Or is it?

I came across wise words…

Christians are Christ’s body, the organism through which He works. Every addition to that body enables Him to do more. If you want to help those outside you must add your own little cell to the body of Christ who alone can help them. Cutting off a man’s fingers would be an odd way of getting him to do more work.

CS Lewis

Maybe it is our problem. No maybe about it. It is our problem.

To strengthen our body… His body… we must add ourselves to it. In service. In support. In sacrifice.

A listening ear often gives the wound… and the wounded… time to heal. We bind ourselves together, sometimes even when we don’t really want to, we bind together to heal the break. Allowing Him to heal the break into a renewed strength.

My little one, eyes searching mine with worry,

Maybe we can help?

Shouldn’t we help?

We would want help.

Yes, we can. Yes, we should. Yes, we would… we would want someone to see us, hear us, help us.

We need others, even when it’s not their problem. Or is it?

Proverbs 24:10-12

If you falter in times of trouble, how small is your strength! Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. If you say, “But we knew nothing about this,” does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who guards your life know it? Will he not repay each person according to what he has done?

Karin signature

January 18, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

What Are You Worth?

I am worth a load of something today.

Productive, productive, productive.

I’m a (recovering) people pleaser. I don’t particularly love that about myself.

Today, I pleased a whole mess of people. Most of them are under the age of 11. Nonetheless, they were pleased.

School work taught, play-time allowed ~ plenty of play-time, pies baked, floors swept, carpets vacuumed, laundry folded, lightbulbs changed, bottles filled ~ and re-filled, diapers changed, breakfast cooked, grilled cheese grilled, hotdogs broiled, dinner prepared, kitchen cleaned, children bathed… Mary Poppins ain’t got nothin’ on me today.

Productive super mom. (no such thing)

I am worth innumerable gifts, diamonds, vacations… you name it. I am worth it… today.

What about last November? I was flat on my back after surgery for a week, followed by pain for a month.

What about February two years ago? Again, flat on my back for two weeks with the flu and the most horrific ear infection… while pregnant.

What about all the other times I didn’t or couldn’t prove my worth?

People pleasing. A tough and foolish undertaking.

I spent much of my life, and honestly still do, trying to please people. We please our friends, our kids, our spouses, our parents, our bosses, our co-workers… please, please, please. PLEASE STOP!

So, my self-worth is defined by what I do for others. What about when I can do nothing?

Does that make me worthless?

Or maybe just a little bit less valuable?

All this doing, doing, doing.

You know what my kids like?

My little ones like it when I am just with them (and giving them popcorn and drinks…).

My girlfriends like it when we just hang out. My warrior just wants to spend some time… with me.

Sure, there are plenty of things, things, things to be done. The things never stop. Never. But, we will.

So, how do you define your worth?

Our worth has nothing to do with what we do, or whom we do it for.

Our worth doesn’t even come from what we do for God. He doesn’t need us to do for Him.

Our worth is one thing. Our worth is defined by only one… only One.

Not what we do, not who we are… but,

Whose we are.

We are His.

What am I worth? What are you worth?

Price paid.

Priceless.

Luke 12: 6-7

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Karin signature

January 16, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

When You Don’t Like Someone

I didn’t like her when I met her.

I don’t even like to say that. It seems so, well, mean. I suppose a better word would be judgmental.

I did think she was pretty, even cool looking. Like someone I could hang out with. Not that I perceive myself that way… I just thought she appeared fairly laid back. I am fairly laid back. My dad has even joked that I am so laid back I may fall over. But… that was before the six pack. Is anyone ever relaxed again after kids enter the picture? Compared to others, we may be relaxed. Compared to our former selves, well, completely relaxed is a notion I see in the rearview. There are six little ones carrying pieces of my heart. Who can relax when a heart is spread wide and worn on the sleeve?

Comparison. It can inflate the ego… falsely. It can deflate a soul… foolishly.

Then, she told me about herself.

And she told me about herself.

And I learned just a bit more about herself… herself… herself.

Got it. She’s great. She knows it. I am definitely not cool enough to hang out with her.

So, I decided. I didn’t like her.

I tried for just a little while longer to like her. Honestly, I barely tried, and not for very long.

After all, if she liked herself so much, she probably didn’t need me to like her, too.

So, that was it. I decided that she was not for me. I really did not know her, but I am a good judge of character, and I knew she was a little too full of herself. Not for me.

Compared. Judged. Stamped with a big, fat

No.

Little did I know.

Here I was teaching my own young ones

accept, don’t judge, don’t compare

you just don’t know the whole story

Did I practice what I preached?

Not this time.

And, then, God.

He always shows up to show me where I am wrong, wrong, wrong.

And I am… grateful.

He, and she, caught me off guard one day. One day, she showed up, just to help, just to serve. She wanted nothing in return.

Oh.

The chilled corner of this heart chipped… and began to melt.

Could I be wrong?

Could it really be that there was something about her… that threatened me?

Made me feel… not quite good enough?

Did I compare myself… to her?

Did I fall short… in my own eyes.

That human response we want to outgrow when we outgrow our training bras… there it was.

Jealousy.

She drove away; I hung my head in shame.

I’m sorry, God.

I’d like to dress it up and eloquently name the feeling, but I just felt like a… jerk.

I’m not a fan of the moments that He points out the worst in me. That whole discipline thing.

Here it is. That chipped and chilled corner of this heart… warmed.

I actually liked her. In fact, I appreciated her. Even more, I saw this woman with her own insecurities. She carried an imaginary, giant cut-out of her “perfect” self to hide behind… to hide her own feelings. The I’m-not-good-enough-so-I’m-gonna-talk-myself-up method.

Just one of many methods we use to defend, to measure up, to fit in.

We compare ourselves, and we miss the opportunity.

We miss the chance to see each other, and ourselves, as we are.

He has perfectly equipped me to be me; He has perfectly equipped you to be you.

He is perfectly able to (painfully) press out our imperfections (plenty of those here).

I wonder, when I fall short, if maybe it’s because I’m trying to be like someone else?

Trying to be like someone else, and missing the chance to be a better… me.

Lesson learned… again.

Romans 14:13

Therefore let us stop passing judgement on one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in your brother’s way.

January 10, 2013 by Karin 6 Comments

One Good New Year Goal

It’s only 9 days into the new year.

The momentum of a turning calendar page rushes us into the new.

New goals, new ideas, new resolutions. Yes, new me.

This fire set and titled “I’m-finally-gonna-get-it-right.”

Only 9 days into the new year… and the fire is doused with reality.

All the lofty goals for time management, clutter reduction, quality kid time, dedicated husband moments… all the goals set in motion on day 1… have popped and fizzled. An ember remains.

Where did the fire go?

I was determined.

What happened?

Hanging on to the frayed ends of a the New-Year-Goal rope… it slips from the hand. Fingers left burning with the memory of the plan.

Is that it?

The big fail?

One bad day, bad moment… and that’s it?

We were running late. This is not necessarily unusual for mama and a sixpack. We were running late.

Then, the sight before me zoomed perspective.

Same old banter, same old breakfast, same old hurry up… hurry up… hurry up.

The ember, this ember of goals planned and unaccomplished… the ember ~ sparked.

This is where the goal is born. Not in dreams of perfect organization, perfect scheduling, perfect dates, perfect moments. The goal lives right here in the mess of it all. The goal to stop. Breathe. Enjoy. Live.

I. Did. Not. Yell. Now, I’m sure there are those who never raise a voice in the madness of a morning kitchen (or claim not to). For many of us, the words repeated in the hustle of a household… and repeated… and repeated, these words take on a life and drain every drop of goodness. These words take on a volume of their own, hastily followed by scowls, furrowed brows (we know these mama-lines etched between the eyes)… and finally, tears. The yelling begets… more yelling. Frustrating. Pointless. Crushing.

Today. Today was different. I did not yell. I knew the softening of my demeanor would calm the masses… and make us late.

So what?

So, we would be late.

Would this matter in 10 minutes? 10 hours? 10 years?

Nope.

Would my mama fury bring peace, teach love, enable joy?

Not so much.

What if the yelling stopped? What if the moment was just plain… lived?

We were late. The kids laughed. My heart rate slowed.

The joy was born.

The dear tutor looked up from the young faces peering into hers. Her eyes smiled at mine.

Oh, we are so happy to see you all are not sick. We’re glad you made it.

I grinned, trying to keep the disruption to a minimum.

I’m sorry we’re late. I decided not to yell today.

Wisdom-soaked eyes glistened at me from this mama soul with children’s children.

Good choice.

There it is.

The goal.

Yes, the organization, time-management, quality-togetherness goals are good. They are good, valid, honorable goals. There is one that trumps any of these giant leaps. One goal.

Soak it in. Let it be. Live it now. Stop yelling (yes, I know, much self-grace required).

Stop yelling.

Let the goals begin.

Proverbs 14:29

A patient man has great understanding, but a quick-tempered man displays folly.

When You Think Praying Is Like Buying a Lottery Ticket

It’s Not My Problem… Or Is It?

What Are You Worth?

When You Don’t Like Someone

One Good New Year Goal

Meet Karin

Search the Sunrise

What I Write

Sunrise Archives

Pinning at Sunrise

Recent Sunrise Posts

Sunrise on Facebook

Meet Karin

Connect With Me

Search the Sunrise

What I Write

Sunrise Archives

Pinning at Sunrise

Recent Sunrise Posts

Sunrise on Facebook