A Day in the Life Archives - Page 4 of 12

February 7, 2014 by Karin 11 Comments

The Real Fairy Tale

Not what she expected.

My sweet ten-year-old looked up at me from behind the soft covers. With tears in her eyes she mumbled,

Maybe your next anniversary will be better.

I cocked my head to the side,

Better than what?

She went on,

Maybe you and Dad will be able to go out and have dinner… I don’t know.

I smiled into her innocent eyes. These young recipients of endless princess tales vividly displayed on wide-screen. The princesses who get clothing lines and figurines and jewels. The ones who sing like angels and fight like brave hearts. The ones who struggle through adversity and end up in a life that’s – perfect. With a theme park thrown in.

I laughed,

Sweetie, this was a good anniversary. I got to see my honey… you know, Dad. I was able to hang out with all of you. We are healthy and fed and in a home – all together. That IS a good anniversary.

She looked at me suspiciously,

Ok. But, it’s your anniversary.

I went on, trying to convince this young girl of the beauty of simplicity,

Well, and maybe we can go out to dinner someplace really nice… really soon.

She smiled and hugged my neck,

Ok, Mom, that sounds great. Maybe you can drive to the mountains or something.

(I’m fairly sure she wanted to add… in a horse-drawn carriage)

I tucked her sweet innocence into bed, blew kisses, and turned off the light.

I looked at my warrior,

You know, she wonders why this wasn’t more romantic. She’s watching and wondering where the fairy tale is.

He and I both chuckled, knowing the fairy tale in this chapter is six sleeping children. That is a good anniversary.

Fairy tales. The funny thing is, I grew up hearing my mother’s German fairy tales, and they were far from the story we show our own kids. The original versions involved pain and healing, life and death, beauty and horror. I have books my mother saved – the old hardback German books from our childhood. The characters are running around with hair on fire and thumbs cut off. Pretty morbid stuff. And I didn’t fall apart… as far as I remember. The real stuff of real fairy tales… was real. Or at least not glossed over and fluffed up.

The beauty in the reality of it all… was the end. The redemptive stories intertwined with mayhem. A little bit more like… life.

The fairy tales on our screens today might just bring our princesses (and our princes) crashing down – to reality. There is romance, there is true love, there is charm and beauty… but, it’s not perfect. Not yet.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a beautiful ending all tied up in a bow. There is no Disney-deficiency anemia in our home.

I love that Pocahontas had a heart-gripping romance with John Smith – even though in real life it wasn’t true. In real life, legend has it, she was a brave soul who saved the neck of John Smith and married a man named John Rolfe. She was baptized a Christian and given the name Rebecca.

I love that little red-haired Ariel marries the prince, grows feet, and has a fabulously explosive wedding. Even though the mermaid fairy tale of my childhood told how the mermaid not only longed to be with the prince, but also deeply desired the eternal human soul. This eternal soul – mermaids don’t have. The story in our old German book ended in her death. It made me sad as a kid.

Yes, I love the glossy new versions, but I wonder if they really prepare our little warriors for the real deal? The battle in this life for faith and hope and love. And, it is a battle. The battle worth living for.

Hans Christian Andersen said it well,

Every person’s life is a fairy tale written by God’s finger.

Not the glossy versions, but the real, raw stories of recklessness and redemption… of doubt and deliverance… of fear and freedom. Of life and death. And, Life.

Maybe I’ll pull those old fairy tales out and read them to my kids. I’ll read the German version to the sound of giggles and translate the stories to English. The real versions, as they were really written. Maybe kids can handle the messy tales – knowing the glory is coming in the end.

The important part is the ending. It doesn’t always end well… here. The real ending hasn’t come yet. The best part – the real ending is the real beginning.

A confession. I already read the last page, and… spoiler alert…

Love wins.

Revelation 22:17

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let him who hears say, “Come!” Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.

January 22, 2014 by Karin 4 Comments

When You Can Suddenly See So Much More

You can’t help but stare.

It’s almost too much for the eyes to take in.

Coming from the green drenched hills of the east where sight doesn’t extend past the next turn. Your eyes can’t help but blink and blink and try to take it all in.

The open valley, the stark desert sprinkled with life – then suddenly the mammoth city and the rugged beauty of jagged mountains.

You think you might just be able to see forever. And, you wonder why you couldn’t see forever before.

She landed in this western city where endless bets are placed. Her little guy stared, mesmerized by a place he had never seen before.

This forever friend of mine and her little boy who struggles with grueling allergies and tormenting skin problems – just like my boys.

It’s no wonder God brought us to meet in our twenties. She introduced me to my warrior – she told me he would be the one for me. She was right.

It’s no wonder we met all those years ago and had our first babies one week apart.

It’s no wonder our boys have mirror allergies. I had been through this desperate search for help – 7 years ago. I knew a man, a doctor, who could help. It was no small miracle – no, it was a merciful miracle that brought healing to my baby boy now growing strong and healthy.

I told her about this doctor, and you know how friends are… the best ones. They believe you when it all seems… rather doubtful.

She and her little guy landed safely in this glitzy town in the middle of a desert. She wound her car down the highway and he stared across the miles of valley,

Mommy, why is it?

My eyes are the same size… but I can see so much more…

And that’s just it. The heart of the matter. Our eyes are the same size, but suddenly… we can see so much more.

Why does it sometimes take so long? And, why can’t everyone see it?

It’s right there in front of us, but we can be so blind.

Maybe sometimes it takes a step. A step in faith.

What are the chances that a doctor in the middle of a brimming city – in the middle of a stark desert – can provide a healing touch? An answer to the suffering of a little boy.

But, he did. Just like he did years ago for my own son.

What are the chances we can open our same sized eyes and suddenly see differently – all the things we thought we already knew?

What are the chances we can open the eyes we have always had, and suddenly see so much more?

What are the chances a friend can whisper a Truth, and though it seems impossible – unimaginable – it is real?

What are the chances a step in faith can bring us to a place we can see forever?

Maybe sometimes it just takes one step…

I’d bet my life on it.

2 Corinthians 4:18

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

January 16, 2014 by Karin 16 Comments

Why Every Day Should Be The Third Day

I wrote this on the third day. The third day of this new year – and here it is – already the sixteenth.

And I’m learning to rise… eyes open a little more with each sunrise…

It’s the third day. He rose on the third day.

It makes me think that maybe I should rise, too.

It makes me think that maybe I should have risen earlier this morning.

Maybe I should follow through with the P90X re-do I have promised myself.

Maybe I should have cooked eggs and bacon – their favorites – instead of cereal… again. Maybe I should finish putting away the Christmas decorations, even though I feel like I am closing another book – and the books that are left in this life are getting fewer.

Maybe I should clean the den, sprinkled with cheese hardened on a coffee table – left by tiny hands.

Maybe I should wash another load filled with messes of memories from the day and the week before.

Maybe I should fold the piles strewn across the love seat – piles that are preferred for climbing much more than folding.

Maybe I should clean the dishes from yet another storm of grilled cheese, pancakes, and mac ‘n cheese.

Maybe I should take out the brimming trash or ask my 12-year-old to do it. Then I see him head out the front door with a grin – there’s nothing quite like 12-year-old buddies. And I remember being 12, and 22, and 32, and 42…

Maybe I should clean the bedrooms, or vacuum – though it scares the baby – and maybe she doesn’t hear the vacuum quite enough…

It’s the third day and I’ve come to know that the third day becomes the third month in a flash. Then the tenth – and before we know it, it’s another year.

One more chapter – another book closes.

It’s the third day and I wonder why I freeze in time and turn around – trying to hold to the second day, and the first…

It’s the third day and I remember He rose on the third day.

Maybe it’s time to rise. Not to fill the list of to-do’s, the I-need-to’s, the we-really-ought-to’s. Maybe it’s just time to wake up and see that every day brings in the new. The new that is born from yesterday’s new.

Maybe I should just remember that He rose. Whether it’s the third day, or the last.

There is always a new one to follow. Just because He rose.

The books that have closed are just part of an endless series. Endless.

Maybe if we just remember that, we will wake with new eyes – a new hope.

This day, and every day after this one, is just the beginning…

Alexander Graham Bell said it well,

When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the one that has opened for us.

Maybe it is just because of the third day that we have open doors.

Maybe we just have to rise.

And it’s now the sixteenth day.

And I’ve since begun to rise a little bit earlier.

I’ve started the exercise re-do I promised myself… after all, the new P90X3 is only 30 minutes – surely I can find thirty minutes.

And I’ve cooked eggs, but not the bacon.

I’ve cleaned the messes left by tiny hands, but you wouldn’t know it.

The laundry has since been washed and worn, and has returned to rest in the pile of dirties.

The vacuum has once again scared the baby, though she’s starting to sort of like it.

Christmas has been put away and the book has been closed.

The new chapter is open – and it includes three tooth fairy visits since the third day – and the tooth fairy is going broke.

The door is open and the sunlight streams in. The rising sun beckons.

The risen Son holds true to His promises, and with bent knees the day brings new life.

And, maybe every day should be the third day…

Lamentations 3:22-24

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”

January 13, 2014 by Karin 16 Comments

When You Need To Hear You Are Amazing

We sank down into the couch.

Coffee mugs in hand and kids run amuck through the house.

It doesn’t take long to know when you’ve met a kindred spirit. The kind you can laugh with from that place deep in your gut. The one you can cry streams of mascara with, or better yet, wear no make-up at all. The one you can share stories with that are so poignant and profound, you both get goosebumps that won’t quit.

I tend to tune the kids out at moments like this… maybe a little too well. My husband jokes it’s an acquired skill. I held up my mug proudly,

Take a look at this.

The green mug inscribed with the words “You are an amazing woman.”

Etched into the lip of the cup are the words “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all. ~ Proverbs 31:29”

She smiled and tilted her head,

Aww.

I knew what she was thinking. A gift from my warrior. I laughed,

I got it for myself.

Her eyes widened and filled. I smiled,

You know, sometimes we have to tell this to ourselves.

The mug was a Christmas present to myself. Shopping online for my warrior – who was in dire need of a Guinness hat with the bottle opener in the bill – I stumbled across the mug that beckoned from the screen. You are an amazing woman. I need to see that. I need to drink coffee from that cup.

Add to cart.

Sometimes we just need to tell it to ourselves.

We are quick to the punch when the punch is directed at our own faces.

We are quick to stamp “bad mommy” on our chests.

We are quick to beat up and bully and berate ourselves for all the little things we get wrong. And that is all wrong. We are amazing women. I didn’t make it up. The words come right from the Source.

We are amazing and good. We fall and fail and mess-up and miss it… sometimes. But, we are amazing.

The mug doesn’t say perfect. Just amazing. And that is all we need to hear – and read – today.

So, when you happen upon a Superman T-shirt in your favorite disposable clothing store – for, say, $7 – call it a Supermom shirt and wear it.

When your kids say “you’re the best mom” – believe it.

When your husband says “you’re awesome” – know it.

When your friends say “there is no one like you” – own it.

When… you don’t hear any of these words from a single soul… listen to me… you are. I didn’t make it up.

When you see the mug that says “you are beautiful” or “you are the best” or “you are an amazing woman” – drink from it.

I didn’t make it up. HE made you up – He doesn’t mess up.

He made this jar of clay that is – you.

His cup is never-ending… let Him fill yours.

You are amazing.

Psalm 139:14

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

December 16, 2013 by Karin 12 Comments

When The Rogue Waves Threaten To Take Us Down

That tooth popped right out.

Mama, it flaps when I drink water.

Will you pull it out?

I took the small trusting hand in mine and lead him to the operating room, aka the bathroom.

Tissue wrapped firmly around this dangling tooth; and I yanked. The chipped memory of a toddler falling face first onto wood flooring popped out without resistance.

Beaming, my boy squealed,

The tooth fairy is coming!

I grinned as I looked into that sweet face, gaping smile more holes than teeth.

Go show Daddy.

I couldn’t help but look at the chipped pearl and remember the day his face hit the floor and nicked personality right into that tooth. It was daddy and uncle’s watch, of course. Not that anyone has ever chipped a tooth on my watch, or gashed a knee, or knotted a baseball-sized lump onto the head.

Today is his birthday.

I remember now… a time that was on my watch. That day, five and a half years ago. A day we almost lost this beautiful, toothless face to the sea.

A storm brewed just off the coast. It wasn’t enough to keep us from digging feet into warm sand. We had just arrived. The ocean beckoned without letting up. We had to go down there.

The view, mesmerizing and soothing as the ocean whispered its strength. Deceiving – those waves that lull and slide onto the shore only to quickly disappear into the murk and mist.

My older ones, only seven, six, and four-years-old, jumped the teasing ocean as it licked the shore. My warrior held fast to hands and stood as an armed guard between them and the hungry sea.

My parents joined us for this vacation. Dad had hurried to the sand as quickly as we had, while Mom stayed behind to prepare a meal that only a grandmother could craft.

I remember meeting a woman. She stood as a watch tower over her own little ones, while we laughed that our children had the same name. I rubbed my expectant belly and breathed deep the salt air.

It came out of nowhere.

This beast of a wave roared, reminding us of the grains of sand that we really are.

She looked at me and yelled,

It’s coming in!

I saw my toddling 18-month-old wander toward the greedy water. My dad, eyes wide, moved his 81-year-old legs faster than I had ever seen. The wave, it was just too much. That surging force of endless ocean powered to the shore, grumbling and snarling at everything in its path.

It came out of nowhere. Nowhere.

All I could do was run. As dad and I enveloped my baby like armies strategically flanking its prey, my dad snatched up his small, unsuspecting body.

It wasn’t enough. Dad held him tightly, but the surge of the wave and the power of the retreat was just too much. The tide tore and pulled and ripped my baby from his arms. I screamed for my husband to help my father as he was pulled into the ocean.

I still don’t know how it could have ended this way… but, I am eternally grateful.

I reached them before the water could pull me down. My little boy’s body was completely submerged. The only glimpse of him was a sparkle of his blue and white swim shirt. The UV protection could do nothing to keep him safe. I saw his shirt and his face, eyes open wide, peering up at me from underneath a film of murky sea water. The wave taunted and pulled as I lifted my baby to open air. Pulling him toward my chest, I felt as though I would squeeze him right into my soul.

But, he didn’t even cry. He didn’t even suck for air. He breathed a steady calm breath as if he had been floating in peace, just waiting for mama to save him.

It was my dad who saved him. But really, it was our merciful Father who saved him that day.

The almosts, the could-have-beens, the what-ifs… they haunt sometimes.

This rogue wave of parenthood brings us face-to-face with time after time of…

I saved your life.

And, He does. Here and the hereafter.

Time and again He saves our lives.

And I am grateful for His mercy… most especially on the days that that rogue waves threaten to take us down.

Matthew 8:25-27

The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. The men were amazed and asked, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!”

The Real Fairy Tale

When You Can Suddenly See So Much More

Why Every Day Should Be The Third Day

When You Need To Hear You Are Amazing

When The Rogue Waves Threaten To Take Us Down

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