The Laundry Psalm

Dirty laundry.  It's a very real part of my life with three hard-playing, dirt-loving children. 

Monday is laundry day at our house: the kids sort it, I run up and down the stairs six or seven times to transfer the loads, fold or hang, and place the warm, clean items in one of four baskets. On Tuesday, the kids match socks, fold towels, and put it all away.  We have a slick system, and in the middle of the homeschool day, I don't mind the occasional retreat to the laundry room. 

I wish I could say I pray for my children as I fold each shirt and try to figure out whose underwear is whose, but I'm more likely to play a Miss Piggle Wiggle game...to imagine how efficiently I can get the job done before the sinister queen comes to analyze my work.  Miss Piggle Wiggle has been more inspiring to me than any of the self-help authors I've read on home organizing.  Truly.  She's a psychological genius. 

But what about the other dirty laundry?  The inner-grime.  The dirt I can more easily hide.  Did you know God wrote a laundry psalm on David's heart?  It's not a particularly fun one to read; you won't be thanking the good Lord for knitting you in your mother's womb or for creating the firmament with His mighty hand or for leading you to quiet waters.  Instead, your face will be right up in the smelly armpit of your own stench. 

Now don't x-out of my blog quite yet! 

You get to read of being washed clean and snowy white, like the warm, fluffy towel load spilling from the dryer. 

I sometimes like to memorize whole psalms.  I chose this one, Psalm 51, to write on the tablet of my heart on Monday.  I am memorizing the NIV version, but this morning, I opened up The Message version out of curiosity.  Wah-lah...the laundry metaphor.  Eugene Peterson, you were thinking of all us laundry washin' mamas when you translated this passage, weren't you?

Psalm 51

^1-3Generous in love—God, give grace! Huge in mercy—wipe out my bad record.
Scrub away my guilt,
soak out my sins in your laundry.
I know how bad I've been;
my sins are staring me down.

^4-6 You're the One I've violated, and you've seen
it all, seen the full extent of my evil.
You have all the facts before you;
whatever you decide about me is fair.
I've been out of step with you for a long time,
in the wrong since before I was born.
What you're after is truth from the inside out.
Enter me, then; conceive a new, true life.

^7-15 Soak me in your laundry and I'll come out clean,
scrub me and I'll have a snow-white life.
Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,
set these once-broken bones to dancing.
Don't look too close for blemishes,
give me a clean bill of health.
God, make a fresh start in me,
shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.
Don't throw me out with the trash,
or fail to breathe holiness in me.
Bring me back from gray exile,
put a fresh wind in my sails!
Give me a job teaching rebels your ways
so the lost can find their way home.
Commute my death sentence, God, my salvation God,
and I'll sing anthems to your life-giving ways.
Unbutton my lips, dear God; 
I'll let loose with your praise.

I think I will print this version and post it in my laundry room.  Won't that upset the wicked queen!

Real Food Real Good

What have I done instead of blogging and songwriting lately?  I reclaimed my kitchen from it's highly processed, brilliantly marketed, pathetically undernourishing foods, and have begun to fill it with power foods, real and organic, much from scratch.  Time, energy, and creativity are required, leaving little for my standard creative outlets, but that's OK!  One of my words of 2012 is nourish, and I didn't realize when I chose the word that a lifestyle overhaul would be required.

I think of myself now as a kitchen steward.  My kids may grumble as chips, cereal, fruit snacks, sugar, and the like slip from their grasp, but I've never seen them so satisfied with raw veggies dipped in homemade ranch.  To their delight, we're drinking whole mile, eating butter, using real mayo, and indulging in yummy homemade granola bars. 

I turn 40 next month, and I regret that I have not made this a priority earlier.  The information is not new, but until I started listening to Nutritional Weight and Wellness' "Dishin' Up Nutrition" podcasts for weeks, I didn't own it.  Auditory learning at it's best.  I can finally erase from my visual memory the politically correct food pyramid guide, and replace it with something that looks more like a balance scale of protein, healthy fats, and fruit/vegetable carbs.  I now understand how nutrition works at the biochemical level of this intricate, amazing temple of the Lord.

I used to think if I am too busy to have a quiet time with God, then I am too busy.  Now I think if I am too busy to have a quiet time and cook wisely, I am too busy. 

Pinterest has been great for accumulating recipes and seeing which of my friends has joined me on this journey.  Likeminded bloggers abound.  I long for more time to discover the huge cosmos of nutitional eating ideas, but for now... baby steps.  Today...trying something new with cauliflower. 

To Hold a Dying Baby...guest blog

When a lovely, young woman you barely know has a powerful story to tell, and you realize in some small way, you are part of the story, it's one you want to pass along.  May it bless you today.



I can not believe it - I have waited my whole life to go to China and the time has finally come. It is the middle of the night as I look out the window of the plane and see the lights of Beijing below me. I'm home. How can a strange country I've never seen before feel like home?

Only God knows.
Only God puts a dream on a little girl's 7-year old heart... giving her a Chinese baby doll and with it, a dream to one day have her own real daughter from China.
Only God can make that dream grow stronger every day, every year.
Only God knows why we must wait so long for what is on our heart so strongly.
Only God can give me patience.

I'm home. At 21 years old,  every last detail has been worked out and I'm about to spend a life-changing month of my life, working in a special-needs baby orphanage in China. I know it will be years until I'm eligible to adopt, but I can't stay away any longer. I am here to see the situation of orphans in this country with my own eyes and to better know how to pray for them.

Every moment of every day is filled with memories... memories that bring out of me nearly every emotion I know. Love, joy, deep sorrow, pain and hurt, laughter... even anger. I walk among the rows of cribs, praying over each precious, abandoned child that they hold. I change more diapers and feed more bottles than I have in a long time. I snuggle the babies tightly and try to understand this world we live in where such  beautiful little ones are left in fields or train stations to either be rescued or die...

... Carissa...

...I've heard the name every morning as we pray over the children at the orphange. At 4 months old, this little girl has a heart condition and is in such critical condition that she hasn't even come to the orphanage yet. A staff member found her under a bridge a month ago, and she has been in the Beijing hospital ever since.

One day the orphanage director tells us with great sadness that the hospital has denied further treatment to Baby Carissa, saying she is too small and not worth saving. She will be arriving at the orphanage this afternoon. Since one baby has already died in the orphanage while I was there, the nannies are having a hard time and so one nurse offers to take Baby Carissa home with her. They've been told that Carissa will only live a few days, and the decision has been made to hold her and pray for her until she dies. Only ICU nurses are allowed to touch her.

Through a story only God could orchestrate, the baby ends up needing help, and as well all know... God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called. Which I suppose is the only explanation why I am chosen as the one to spend an entire night with her.

I'm taken to a village 10 miles away, by myself, without a single English-speaking person with me, and it is communicated that I will be picked up at 7:00 the next morning. In America, I wouldn't think of taking this risk. But right now God is leading, and I am perfectly safe.

As I settle into the room designated for Baby Carissa in the nurse's small apartment, it is dark and quiet outside. The only noise in the room is the baby's strained breathing. I pick her tiny frame up and nearly cry. She is 4 months old and doesn't even weigh 7lbs. Her skin tone is grayish and I can feel every bone in her tiny body. But her eyes are bright, and her finger grips mine tightly. As the night wears on, I settle into the blankets with the baby on my chest and spend the rest of that precious night alternating oxygen tubes, heart monitors, bottles, diapers, praying, dozing, medicine, etc.

As I sit there, the words of a song that my sister's friend wrote float through my mind... Sit down, lean back/ we've got the corner of your mat/ We'll carry you when you are weak/ to the Healer's feet... let us lift you up so Christ can fill your cup/we are here at the corners... and again the words of another song by the same woman, Jill Pearson, There is a hope that has fed my soul/ in foreign lands and here at home/It has come in the form of an angel and a song/Many prayers, many verses it has carried me along/It brings a peace that surpasses understanding... I have a hope that can't be shaken/I have a joy that can't be taken...

It is the wedding anniversary of the nurse who is supposed to be watching Carissa tonight, and the only human reason I'm here is because she wanted to get away with her husband for the night. But God had a far greater purpose for me - a young lady from America who has dreamed nearly my whole life of holding these precious, nearly-forgotten little ones on the other side of the world in my own arms - to spend an entire night holding a dying little baby. Verses of comforting Scripture are printed in English near my Bible and all night long I pray these verses over Carissa. And over and over, all night long, the words to those soothing songs from back home run through my head. I've only heard the songs a couple times and I'm not entirely sure I have all the words right, but I feel surrounded by the peace that being in the center of God's will brings.

Morning finally comes, and for the last time I kiss Carissa's little face, release her finger from mine, and lay her in her basket. I return to the orphanage, tears streaming down my face as my teammates surround me with quiet love. The orphanage director later tells me that it is a complete miracle I was allowed to be in the same room with Carissa, much less hold her. The hospital where she stayed did not allow anyone to see or touch her, and only 2 other people have ever been allowed to hold her. After being rescued, she has spent her life on her back in a hospital crib, alone. And yet I just spent a whole night with her, her frail body pressed to my chest so I could feel her faint heartbeat.

"We'll carry you when you are weak to the Healer's feet."

Three weeks later when I was at home, I received an email saying that Baby Carissa had died of heart failure in the arms of the nurse. While my heart is broken, hers is now healed. I will forever be in awe of the gift that God gave me -- to be a small part of the life of this tiny treasure, tucked away in the mountains of China. Only a few people ever knew this little girl, but I was one of them. And while I grieve, someone reminded me that Baby Carissa lived a life of blessing that few of us ever do... so weak that she was wrapped in the palm of her Father's hand day and night, and bathed in prayer by partners who loved her all the time. God is good.

I learned the difference between happiness and joy while I was in China. My time spent there was precious, beautiful, and so much more than I ever imagined. Carissa's story changed my life, as did so many others while I was there. I prayed that God would break my heart over the things that break His, and I learned how He answers prayers. And yet there is a joy that can't be taken.

And the best part of Carissa's story?
She is no longer an orphan... she is finally home.

-Rebecca Ohnstad

Silent Treatment

There have been times in my life when difficulties have piled up like dirty dishes on a tilting stack, and I would get this uneasy feeling that maybe I had lost favor with God, maybe I hadn't handled things right, I wasn't grateful enough, I didn't obey completely, and so God shrugged and moseyed on down the road to bless the next person.  I could see Him over there, blessing her with a good marriage, blessing him with a great career, blessing those kids with exceptional intelligence and talents. 


One of my favorite books to read to the kids is The Great Brain, a humorous novel of three brothers living in the 1930's, who get into all kinds of scrapes.  Their parents, as punishment for each new infraction, instigate the silent treatment for the deserving culprit.  They pretend the boy doesn't even exist for a time.  The boys hate it worse than a spanking. 


But that's how it feels sometimes.  Not only am I being punished with one dirty dish after another, but I'm also getting the silent treatment from God.  I want to say, "Just spank me and get this over with."


I read an interesting quote the other day:  "A teacher doesn't talk during a test."  He's present, he quietly nods his encouragement when you glance up, he's spent time training you for this, but he doesn't stand over your shoulder and point to the correct multiple choice answer.

And what did I get for all the worry?



Looking back, I see that these challenging seasons were very much like tests.  The answers to the questions were spiritually-loaded words like:  Trust, Persevere, Hope, Grace, Peace, Joy, Thankfulness.  But I didn't go into these examinations unprepared.  I just needed to breathe deeply, let the fog clear, and recall all the Master had poured into me.  When the frightened, frustrated  voices in my head calmed down, there it was, quiet and still, His voice breaking through.  The test is over.