Your one-sentence story

 

Photo: Jordan Butler, www.unsplash.com.

 

I kind of hate routine.

I think the hatred stems from my ingrained, wild gypsy tendencies. . .this longing to utterly rebel against conformity. To set out on a path just for the adventure and the unknown. To let loose from all restraints and strike out in a certain direction.

But at the same time, I am learning to like routine. Since moving to Oklahoma, I have begun to enjoy the stability of living in one place again. Knowing where to shop or eat. Seeing the same faces in the library, the gas station, the post office.

I must emphasize the word learning. I find I still chafe a bit at the restraints of a schedule. Recently, our pastor encouraged our church to learn to enjoy the boring routine of life. He instructed us to set a routine and stick to that routine.

And I thought of Anah.

I have never met Anah. I have only read about him. Apparently, his father Zibeon owned asses (donkeys). And Anah had one sibling named Ajah. Also, apparently, Anah took care of the donkeys for his father. (In this post, I will refer to them as donkeys.)

I was reading through Genesis 36 one morning and came upon verse 24:

This was that Anah that found the mules in the wilderness, as he fed the asses of Zibeon his father.

I do not know why, but this verse struck me as hilarious. I am sure you never have been tempted to laugh while reading Scripture. I have my siblings to thank for helping me develop this weird sense of humor.

But back to Anah. I have read his one-sentence story before, but as it was squeezed into a long list of names and dukes and so on, I had not thought about him too much. Obviously, God thought it was important that we know about Anah because He mentions Anah by name. He also tells us that Anah was going along and doing what he always did–taking care of his father’s donkeys. And suddenly, out in the wilderness, mules appeared.

A mule is the offspring of a male donkey and a female horse. According to the website Bible Archaeology, donkeys and mules were valuable means of transportation in Anah’s time. They also served as a sign of wealth. The more donkeys or mules you owned, the richer you were.

Anah’s father Zibeon was rich because he already owned donkeys. But when Anah found the mules in the wilderness, he made his father even richer. All he was doing was taking care of his normal business for the day.

Why did God put Anah’s story in the Bible? I am sure it was not just to make my little mind spin. All I can surmise is that He wanted us to know that in the mundane, in the boring, in the routine, riches can be found.

One sentence. One sentence describes Anah’s life and his amazing discovery. I am sure people talked about his amazing discovery for many years. Then God recorded it in Scripture.

This verse made me pause and think about the one-sentence story I would want my life to tell. What would people say about me? She was kind. She was spiritual. She was industrious. She was. . .finding mules in the wilderness. I doubt I will ever find a mule in my wilderness, but I might find some other important treasures.

Which means I ought to be busy about my Father’s business today.

How To Teach Your Child to Love Music (Tip #6)

 

Photo: Jason Rosewell (www.unsplash.com).

 

When my sister Joanna sings something other than soprano, she usually sings a high tenor. Like an octave higher than normal tenor.

Automatically.

My siblings and I used to chuckle over this fact. Not that singing a high tenor part is particularly funny, or that Joanna had trouble with that part. Not at all. We simply knew that if she sang tenor, it would come naturally. She would sing on auto-pilot. And when she played her violin, she gravitated toward the tenor line. Always.

You may well wonder why.

My older sister Jennifer taught Joanna to sing the tenor part by singing into her (that would be Joanna’s) ear. Over and over. Until it stuck. Singing into our ears was one way my older siblings taught us younger siblings to sing, especially to sing a particular part. The idea was to get us to focus on that part and that part alone.

As a child, I remember staring at the notes in the hymnbook, anxious for the day when I could read the notes for myself. I felt that I would become, finally, all-knowing and wise if I were to accomplish this feat. I think I almost envied my older siblings this magical gift.

It took some time, but as my siblings and I sang together over and over, the alto and tenor and soprano parts became more defined in my mind. And today if I happen to be standing next to my younger sister Monica in church, we automatically complement each other’s parts. If I decide to sing tenor, she fills in on alto. If I switch to alto, she immediately switches to a low tenor.

Although not every child will naturally hear a note and sing it clearly, I believe it is still important for children to learn to sing to the best of their ability. After all, singing is a form of worship and remains an integral part of any church service.

If you are wondering how in the world your child will ever sing soprano, much less anything else, don’t worry. Some children easily sing soprano or alto after they have listened to it long enough. Others (we won’t mention any names) struggle with hearing the pitch and may need more instruction and (or) patience.

Another way to teach your child to learn to hear a part is to have them listen to that part being played on the piano. Not using the chords or accompaniment–simply that part by itself. This technique isolates the part and allows your child to focus. The goal is to have your child train their ear to hear a certain part no matter what song you may sing.

If you are not musical yourself, find someone who knows how to read music and have them play the notes for your child. You may be surprised at how quickly your child will catch on and for lack of a better word, tune their ear to the sound of a specific part.

Trust me. It worked for Joanna. I know it will work for your child.

 

P.S. The picture in this post has no connection with Joanna singing tenor. Just thought I’d clear that up! Oh, and I apologize that this is coming to you a day late.

Run Your Own Race

 

Photo credit: Julia Raasch, unsplash.com.

 

Can I be honest for a minute?

The last few weeks, I have struggled to find my groove.

Maybe I’ve been struggling because my brain is trying to re-program after vacation. After spending time with family and friends and talking and sleeping in and generally not being at home in a familiar routine. Maybe I’ve been struggling because my spiritual walk is not what it should be. I have been challenged to find more time for reading and prayer in 2017. Maybe I am seeing, after making a list of goals, how far I fall short–how far I must go if I ever hope to reach the goals I penned in black ink on that lined notebook page.

But I think the main reason I have struggled is because I am trying to focus on my race.

Focus on your race? you ask. Yes, I reply. What are you talking about? you ask. I will tell you, I say.

I mean simply this: I want to focus on the race that God has set before me in 2017. Not your race. Not my sister’s race. Not my friend’s race. Mine.

While I was gone on Christmas vacation, my Pastor started a series of messages on the topic of “Running the Race.” I have been pondering this string of excellent messages from Hebrews 12:1-3. The verses are familiar, but as Pastor expounded on them I began to see them in a new light. Especially this part in verse 1:

. . .and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.

 

Pastor emphasized how we must run the race set before us. He stressed that each of us has a race, but we need to figure out what that race is and then pursue it with all of our strength.

One thought stuck out to me: my race is not someone else’s race. My race will not look like anyone else’s race. But that’s okay.

Not that I haven’t considered this before. Not that I am wondering what my race is. I instinctively know what is required of me. I think most people know what is required of them in their race. But this time, the idea has struck a deeper chord in me.

You see, I have often (and I do mean often) failed at not comparing myself to others. And in 2017, I find myself doing this once again.

As a single woman, I will admit that at times I have watched others running a different race, a race I thought I would be running right now. But it has not turned out the way I thought it would or should.

I see ladies running successful races with their husbands and children and single ladies running successful races with their businesses and careers. They seem to possess more talent than I could ever possess. They sprint toward their goal with what appears to be a sweatless brow and effortless grace.

And over here, I am sweating and puffing and huffing. How easily I believe that I need to run that race, the one she’s running over there. I focus intently on how I fail to measure up to her poise and stamina.

Lord, look here, I say. Every Instagram post shows a perfect life. She has a husband. She is expecting. Her hair is amazing. Her business is thriving. She’s. . .perfect.

And then the Lord gently stops me.

Run your own race, Jess, He says. I have set it before you.

Ready. Set.

Go.

On the Cusp of a New Year

Photo: Annie Spratt, www.unsplash.com.

This week, millions (maybe billions) of people are setting new goals. Evaluating their past year. Deciding what went wrong, where they derailed, where they strayed from the path. They are listening to pep talks about setting new goals, finding purpose, channeling focus. They are joining groups and clubs.

And then there’s me.

Don’t get me wrong. In the past, I have occasionally written (tiny) lists of things I want to do. Usually, the lists are small because I want to focus on only a few major goals. Maybe six to eight. I never seem to find time to include everything I want to do in life.

But this week, somehow I am feeling. . .left behind? Irresponsible. Unspiritual. Lazy.

My problem is compounded by the fact that I have been away for two weeks from my usual routine–visiting family and generally making merry. Combined with several dark-thirty departures, late-night talks with family, and plenty of sugar, I am lost on another planet. The rest of the world seems to know where they are headed in 2017, while me. . .well, I am just wanting sleep. Like for the rest of 2017, please.

I don’t mean to glory in my lack of preparation. Or my lack of careful, thoughtful deliberation on what it is that I want to accomplish in 2017. I know I still need to re-evaluate this past year, make notes on areas in which I need to improve, and re-commit to doing just that.

But I have a feeling I am not alone in my attempts to get myself organized. I am certain I am not the only one who is struggling with a sense of purpose, a sense that everyone else has achieved the incredible feat of preparing their entire year in advance, complete with monthly, weekly, and daily goals. And 3×5 cards with Scripture verses to match their goals. For every day of the week. (Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be nice.)

I am simply acknowledging that I do not have it all together. Forgive me. And if you feel the same way, you don’t have to feel any judgment from me.

Resolutions are tricky beasts. They offer hope, but then demand that you have the tenacity of a tardigrade, a.k.a. water bear, to accomplish them. (Look it up. That was my “learn something new every day” moment.) With a heart full of expectant joy, you plunge into your “to-do” list, only to find your excitement waning about…January 8.

In an article on the website Statistic Brain, I read that only 8% of people stick with their New Year’s resolutions.

Eight percent, people.

But if we all stayed where we were in January 2016, we would never know anything but defeat and failure. The same article from Statistic Brain states that people who make resolutions are ten times more likely to stick with them than if they never made resolutions.

I am sure by now you have heard all of the cliches about the new year giving us a chance to start over, offering us a fresh page, challenging us with its obstacles. So I will not repeat that here. But I will grab a pen and paper. And I will make my list.

I hope you will, too.