Author Archives: PearlS

Cut him in two.

Well, Covid caught me, and that while I was bragging about minding my own business.

Suffice to say it got me pretty bad, in the way that you’d expect it. Fever, sickness, cough, loss of senses. Dragging on like any old flu.
But here’s the thing about it–I don’t think there was a thing I could’ve done differently in order to avoid it.

This hasn’t come as any revelation–in fact, it’s a bit what I expected.
I didn’t need a test–I didn’t get the sniffles and let my brain go into immediate lockdown mode–better make sure! It’s only responsible! 

I didn’t sign up for contact tracing, didn’t spend any time hunting down the culprit.
I didn’t need a better mask, because I wasn’t breathing near or around people. I’m a natural introvert. It just happened in my usual sanguine, solitary life.

I’m not trying to make light of it. Who knows if I’m even out of the woods yet (tho I hope I am, of course. It’s been two full weeks and even tacos drenched in hot sauce don’t wake up my taste buds).
The point I hope to make is this: I got sick, and there is no one to blame for it.

You may hear stories on the news of people who have lost family members or dear ones. This is tragic, but as is typical, tragedy often gets exploited on television. Feelings explode in the spotlight, a visceral mourning unnecessarily (and prematurely) provoked.
There’s always a bone to pick, always glares at the supermarket and nasty comments directed at the irresponsible, the careless. If you had cared more, this wouldn’t have happened. If you weren’t so selfish, less people would be dying. It’s going to take all of us behaving in the same way to stop a pandemic.

I’ve noticed the next level of shaming in the works: the proud, public, responsible vaccine-ers who will save us all with their forethought and global-mindedness. UNICEF urges me to hashtag my vaccine photos with my neighbor-loving reason I got the shot.
Perhaps this is born of a desire to see life get back to normal. I would buy this excuse, except the majority of these vaccine-proud don’t appear to be the elderly or at-risk. They are folks who  have a great shot at contracting the virus and defeating it with their God-given antibodies.
I have my doubts that the hashtagging crowd actually cares or has ever cared about lonely people in nursing homes.
If we truly cared about them, we wouldn’t dare cut the line in front of them.

With all the spare time lying on the couch (this is a bit of a covid homeschool joke), I’ve been thinking on how society is bumping around in the dark, scratching and scrambling to find a light source. There is rage. There is malice. There is plenty of mock compassion with an underbelly of self-righteousness.

Each party has a flickering, dim, battery-powered candle that casts shadows of doubt on the person holding it.
“We need unity!” politicians chant as they rip away the rights and livelihoods of the masses.
“End brutality!” shout protestors as they strip law enforcement of their means to protect the innocent.
“Listen to science!” scream the uber-careful, the same ones who once valiantly saved the environment by eschewing plastic straws (but now retch at the sight of a fellow human not wearing their disposable mask).
“Don’t let them silence your voice!” warn the clairvoyant Christian type, forgetful of how Jesus himself was obedient to death, even (silent) death on a cross.

Where is the wisdom in all of this? Where, actually, is the light switch that will erase the shadows and all the dimwittedness that surrounds us?
King Solomon was, as any Jeopardy-loving, Bible-reading gal knows, the wisest guy in all history. He admitted to God he was a “little child” and “didn’t know how to carry out [his] duties”. Solomon asked the Lord for wisdom to govern his people and to distinguish between right and wrong.

I admire this little child. I love his plea for help. Even more, I love how God praised him and gave him wisdom that spilled over and enriched the lives of his people.
God told Solomon,
“Since you have asked for wisdom, and not for long life or wealth for yourself, nor have you asked for the death of your enemies” (this covers about all of the dimwitted, battery-operated lights), “I will give you what you ask: a wise and discerning heart.”

A wise and discerning heart: how useful in these questionable times!
Solomon’s most famous case as a judge came when two women stood before him, arguing over the true maternity of one baby. As he ordered the sword brought down to (allegedly) split the baby in two (half to be given to each woman), the true mother begged him not to kill her child, but to give it to the other woman.
“No!” screeched the imposter, “Cut him in two!”

Cut him in two, cut him in two.

The dimwitted world wants everything demolished if they cannot have what they want. If the rules be arbitrary (and they are), let no one have justice.

Solomon, in his wisdom, could see this clearly. He spotted a crack in the second woman’s integrity. He read the between-the-lines story, the gap where made-up responsibility can’t block out the pure hatred that lurks beneath.

If we listen close, we can hear the same tune today:

If I can’t have my health, if my loved ones might die, then no one deserves to live.
If I can’t be safe, no one deserves to be safe.

Solomon said,

“Give the living baby to the first woman. Do not kill him; she is his mother.”

Friends, please listen to some otherworldly wisdom: 

The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. (James 1:20)

Truth doesn’t spring off the lips of liars. Justice does not come from making a scene. Compassion for the sick and vulnerable doesn’t sprout from a heart filled with pride or resentment.
Think more deeply than your surface-level inclination. Filter what you are hearing through the lens of what is truly true, not just what sounds halfway fair.

Wisdom is a scarcely-sought commodity. Turn the light, the all-illuminating Light–on.

Brothers and sisters, stop thinking like children. In regard to evil be infants, but in your thinking be adults.
1 Cor. 14:20

 

What to do when…

-people are posting junk on the internet

-you feel hot and angry

-your inclination is to engage and rebut

-STOP

-You don’t have to say anything

-Test the spirits (1 John 4)–this is your ACTION.

Is the person posting like a tree, planted, bearing fruit like joy, peace, and patience?
Is this a person walking in the counsel of the wicked? (Psalm 1 and Galatians 5)

-remember you have something that is more valuable than precious gold

-don’t throw your pearls at pigs, don’t give what is holy to dogs. Otherwise they will trample them and then attack YOU. (Matthew 7)

-If they claim to be a Jesus follower, remember that Jesus said this ^

-He also said “if they hated me, they will hate you.” (John 15)

-Jesus did other things besides talk because He knew actions speak loudly.

-Wicked people/false prophets are loquacious and love to hear themselves talk.

-They love to argue.

-Did Jesus love to argue?

-Are you talking more than doing?

-Remember your job: to love your God and to love your neighbor as yourself.

-Who is old, who is young, who is being ignored in society? Is it your kids? Is it your neighbors? Is it the Amazon delivery gal? Go love them.

-Love them sacrificially, where it costs you something. Your job, your food, your time.

-You’ll find satisfaction.

-Keep it between you and Jesus

-You will sleep better at night.

-You will be planted like a tree, not crumbling when the wind bends your branches. 

-You’ll bear fruit like joy, peace, and patience.

-The world is falling apart

-YOU don’t have to.

 

If you are wise, your wisdom will reward you; if you are a mocker, you alone will suffer. Proverbs 9:12

Risky business

I am in Mexico right now.

This is a personal decision my family made. We asked no one their opinion on the matter, and we hardly told anyone. We needed no one’s permission, we asked for no one’s good blessing.

We have made many responsible decisions, a few accidental irresponsible ones, and no one knows about them. We have taken many photos, and no one has seen them, because it’s our business and no one else’s. 

We’ve bantered with real people, in real life, in really broken Spanish. Sometimes I have put on sunscreen, and sometimes I’ve abandoned the idea because it is partly cloudy and I am paler than the moon. I just want to see what the tiniest hint of pink could do for my languishing January complexion, so I risk it.

More risky business: my kids have gone swimming, and they cannot swim very well.

I’ve picked up starfish and put them in the hands of a four year old.
I’ve snorkeled right past two bulging eyes that turned out to be a massive stingray. Then I scooted right past another and got the heck out of the ocean because I know all about Steve Irwin and I’m a midwesterner to the core.

Last night we ate food on a deck overlooking a crocodile, one that could’ve killed my children if they’d been foolish enough to stick their legs out into the water.

I say all this because as an American, I’m well aware of the seemingly and potentially harmful, politically tense situation we are facing. I detect concern we are losing our freedoms; that one by one, our liberties will be stripped from us–beginning with our statues, guns, history, and closely followed by freedom of speech, freedom to worship, freedom to pursuit of happiness.

It feels, for all we can see on television and social media, that we are barrelling right into an abyss. Raging mobs certainly don’t make it better, and we’ve had those for several months now.

Closer to home, I stress daily over teaching my oldest kid Gauss’ method, still knowing we have a good six years of math ahead of us, and Gauss already is well beyond my own sweet spot. When it comes to homeschool, I am very weak. (Muy fraca was the excuse I gave our waiter for not ordering a margarita–very weak. So weak, in fact, that I didn’t realize I was speaking half Spanish, half Portuguese, and the words I actually uttered were “very skinny”. We both left confused, till I Google-translated it later.)

I want, like most parents, a regimen. A reliable education. Less emphasis on the social and mental wellbeing (leave it to the parents), and more on the foundations: Reading. Writing. ‘Rithmatic.

I want my boys to be able to play team basketball without submitting them to the cruel and unusual punishment that is wearing a mask for four quarters. (Seems like not that long ago waterboarding was severe, inhumane punishment, and now we just expect our kids to drown in their own juices.)

See, I cannot send my kids to school, and we cannot do what once was normal. It’s easy to assume, therefore, that not getting to live how I want is not fair.

It’s. Not. Fair.

I worry our familiar routines will be replaced with vague and bizarre rules that hold no hope for my kids, who I am hoping will be lovely, wise and wonderful grownups some day.


On the way down to Mexico, I sat next to a man with a beard and a low voice (and other clear indicators that he was a man) who wore a high ponytail, nails, bedazzled jeans, women’s shoes and a purse (plus a mask, of course). He assured me he loved children, and had no problems sitting next to my nine year old, because he was in the child care business.

Listen: I worry, because my kids are puzzled by this behavior. It strikes them as unnatural. It sends red flags flying.

I want to impart clarity, not confusion–but the world is so, so confused.

I could whine that it is not fair to have to explain the weirdness of this generation, but God very clearly told Job “where were you when the world began?”

“It’s not fair” doesn’t ring well in the ears of the Almighty.

When my oldest asked me later why a man would behave this way, I told him it was probably because he felt lonely or unaccepted, and there is nothing more acceptable to the world these days than to live contrary to the way God asks us to live. He acts this way because he desires love and this is his best shot in the dark at finding it.

This week I had the thought that I don’t want to write things on the internet anymore. I love the challenge of quitting social media. I love the thrill of having conversations in person, of not judging a friend because I haven’t seen every photo they’ve ever taken or heard all they’ve got to say about some politician.

I want me–and you–to loosen the tether of things that enslave us without us really knowing it, because we are not really as in a pinch as the world would like us to think.

The truth is, there is still plenty to choose, plenty of risky business.

Social media is not freedom of speech–it is slavery of the soul.
News outlets do not increase knowledge–they make prisoners of popular propaganda.

The crocodile–he is still swimming, always lurking under the deck, and our children walk the boards above it. This is the risk we take in living. They need not dangle their legs over him.

My personal decisions–and yours, they still belong to us.

This includes every responsibility you have that you ought not take lightly: marriage, raising kids, working a steady job to provide for yourself, living honestly and uprightly, and a thousand more. They demand your focus and energy, and this is enough.

This is enough, even if by all appearances, it doesn’t seem fair.

You couldn’t be freer in Christ. You cannot be safer than living the freedom the Jesus-following life offers. You can not live more boldly, love more extravagantly, nor abide more safely in the dangerous waters of our culture.

That isn’t fair either, but I’m more than willing to submit myself to the One who calls all the shots in the end.

We tried to get on a city bus in the dark last night. We had a ten dollar bill, and the driver would not take it. Pesos only. (This was one of our own risky irresponsible decisions.) Four kids, and one had lost a flip flop and was flipping out. We walked away from the bus, disappointed.
But then the bus honked. A kind gal poked her head out the window and said she had pesos she could exchange for us.
The bus driver waited. We got on the bus and got home. Mercy from strangers–what a blessing.

I reminded my kids before bedtime that as believers we are to “let no debt remain outstanding, except for the debt to love one another, for whoever loves others fulfills the Law.”
(Romans 13:8)

This a risky business.
Lean into it.

 

How have You loved us?

I’m determined to squeeze in one more post for the year. 

A friend of mine and I were quasi-lamenting over Christmas cards this year–the lack of, yes, but also the faint sorrow detected because of it.
She told me of one card received from an older woman who wrote in the mass letter that this year has been so awful, there was nothing worth writing about. In fact, there was no reason to take a happy picture with her family (it would have been impossible anyhow, due to Covid) or send it to anyone, so instead she included photocopies of pictures of years past and happier times. A photo of her as a toddler under the Christmas tree. One of her grown children when they were small. Christmases past, happier times.

Oh, it made me sad for this lady. And I think there must be many in this same despair.
It reminds me of Malachi, the last book in the Old Testament, right before God took a 400 year sabbatical (He didn’t really, He was just gearing up for an incredible entrance–)

“I have loved you,” says the Lord.
“But you ask, ‘How have you loved us?’”
Malachi 1:2

Nothing for which to feel grateful? Friend, you have much. Let me help remind you.

People like to reflect and look forward sometime around the end/beginning of a year. Once many years ago, I prayed God would make my love for His word grow. 

As a twenty-something, I was overwhelmed by the wisdom therein. I felt like a failure for not applying myself to studying it, not digesting it as I should. But how to digest in huge doses? How to savor if only biting off big hunks and swallowing whole books? I needed wisdom, and I needed a practical view of it.

If any of you lacks wisdom, ask God! He gives it to all liberally, without reproach, and it will be given to you.
James 1:5

I’m happy to say every promise in Him is yes (a resounding one, 2 Corinthians 1 tells me–this means Yes! Yes! Yes!). Not only does my love for it grow, but it grows exponentially.

It changes everything.
I could tell you, but I’ve already told you. The only counsel, the only assurance, the only forgiveness and right living comes from knowing God’s Word.

Want to know how to succeed in business? How to handle dealing with fools? How to not be a fool? Read Proverbs.

Want a quick lesson in chasing dreams? Care to understand the emptiness in following your heart? Read Ecclesiastes.

Need help expressing the deepest aches and longings of your heart? Psalms.

I am convinced we sometimes feel the sorriest for ourselves because we have tuned out every form of hope. We’ve dialed that radio into white noise and can’t for the life of us find the energy to crank it back.

A sluggard buries his hand in the dish but is too lazy to bring it back to his mouth (Proverbs 19:24).
I have been the sluggard. Lord, sometimes we believe, but help us with our unbelief! Help us with our laziness, our ambivalence toward your Word!
The Bible uncovers every soft, tender spot in us and shines a spotlight there. It heals us. It grinds down our bitterness and pride.

Tonight we had our oldest read us Psalm 73 aloud–King James Version, just for kicks.
I was envious when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. (v.3)
Their eyes stand out with fatness: they have more than heart could wish. They are corrupt, and speak wickedly concerning oppression: they speak loftily. (v.7-8)

Slow down, child!
I had to tell him to pause so I could scribble it in my notebook. Absolutely, I have envied the prosperity of the wicked! Amen, they are fat with good things, they have more than they could wish. I have seen it this very year–how they are corrupt! How much people are struggling while being told it is for their health and safety!

They set their mouth against the heavens, and their tongue walketh through the earth. (v.9)

How the wicked talk and talk! How many words! Walking, wagging tongues. Lofty talk concerning oppression–this whole year was filled with phony social justice talk!

My mind flew to Jeremiah, the time when the people made a covenant to free their slaves.
But afterward they changed their minds and took back the slaves they had freed and enslaved them again. (34:11)

This is what the Lord says,
You have not obeyed me; you have not proclaimed freedom to your own people. So now I proclaim ‘freedom’ for you, declares the Lord–

‘Freedom’ to fall by the sword, plague and famine. (34:17)

God throws down air quotes. Here’s some “freedom” for ya. My heart burns when I read it. Justice from the true Judge, not pretense from pretenders.

Racism? Classism?–He addresses it. No tolerance for the wicked, the double-tongued.

But also, no tolerance for the lazy: The one who is not willing to work should not eat (2 Thess. 3:10).

This is the Book that answers all my questions. It speaks to my here and now. It aligns my soul and rights my motives.

Chances are, you have it sitting on a shelf nearby.

How has He loved us? He gave us the Magnum Opus of love declarations. It is displayed in His creation, engraved on our hearts, and written in a tidy 800,000 word Book wooing us back to Him.

My four year old has been reciting the first chapter of Psalm since she could talk. It’s the cutest thing ever to get a two year old to say Bible verses, and if you do it every night at bedtime, they will whisper it back like a silly game. Add hand motions, clap the beat, sing it to the tune of a Disney song. I guarantee there is nothing sweeter, and they will memorize whole chapters if you put in the effort.

Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, (stay away from fools and foolish talk!)

Or stands in the way of sinners, or sits in the seat of scoffers (don’t hang around their path, don’t give them the time of day!)

But his delight is in the Law of the Lord
And on this Law he meditates day and night.
(this is THE Book, the one worth reading and studying and thinking about)

He is like a tree planted by streams of water
Which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither,
Whatever He does prospers.

The wise person is planted. Their tree has fruit.

How has He loved you? Maybe you can think of many ways this year has let you down.
But He has given us His word. It never fails. It will make you wise, and if you let it sink in, it will benefit every area of your life.

He can make your desire to know Him grow–the promise is Yes.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

 

If you need help getting started reading your Bible and/or understanding the parts you don’t understand, there are many resources! There are apps you can put on your phone and podcasts you can listen to, like Bible Recap. You can do an easy Google search and find a printable checklist to read the Bible in a year. Personally, I read a One Year Bible that I picked up for a dollar at a thrift store. I can mark it up as much as I want, dog-ear it, etc., and it keeps me on track, reading-wise. Other than that, I listen daily to Thru the Bible with J. Vernon McGee. I cannot tell you how much I have learned from this man. His 5 year study is fantastic and I’ve been doing it for over ten years now. Each daily study is 20 minutes.
If your are an auditory learner, invest in an audio version of the Bible and keep it on your phone or in your car. I have this dramatized version. There is one called The Bible Experience that I’ve been wanting to try out (you can get it free right now with an Audible trial period)–it includes real actors’ voices, like Denzel Washington, Forest Whitaker, Levar Burton.
Begin with Judges or 1 Samuel, something fast-paced and fascinating. I promise you’ll want to stick with it just to find out what happens next.

If this is all still very new to you or overwhelming, don’t worry!
Begin with a kids’ version, like the comic-style Action Bible. I have the audio recording on my phone so even non-reading kids can follow along. I love it because it is chronological and includes many details that other children’s Bibles leave out. Yes, your kids can understand Ezekiel! You can, too!
The Jesus Storybook Bible is another precious little kids’ version that hits the big stories and the overall theme of the Bible.

Grant us the weariness

My kids, I joke, are on the sixteenth level of Homeschool: copying and memorizing Gary Larson comics.

It is okay, I tell myself, interspersed with major doubts generally directed at my husband. We made dog biscuits and wrapped them in festive packages–Mr. Mutt’s Christmas Treats. The boys were invested when it came to pureeing the turkey and sweet potato, less interested when hand printing the labels. My energy waned around the second batch. The math kid had already wandered off by the time we were figuring out fixing a price point. And really, I couldn’t blame him. Entrepreneurship is for the narrow-minded. I have a million ideas to pursue.

Nothing holds my attention very long. The six year old doesn’t care about Charlemagne, and I don’t either, not anymore.

Loud noises make me irritable. The second drone (useful in the Canvas drone videography class) has burned up its little propeller motor. All our Amazon boxes have been transformed into a massive castle, drawbridge included.

We have not exhausted our resources; just our mom.

The kids are still doing great. I am convinced all a kid needs is a mom and dad who love them.
I listened to a podcast interview with a novelist. The sweet English lady, having had a mother as a writer, swore she knew nothing more than a mum who picked her up from school, distracted and puffing cigarettes, one after the other. They’d return home, eat a cookie, and her mother would disappear into the bedroom, close the door, and type for another two hours before returning to heat a can of beans for supper.

It sounded romantic to my ears. I know it was not.

Neither is staying home with kids.

I married a man who is extremely successful. It came as a surprise to both of us, I think. He comes home from work bone tired. I am, too.

He makes money–I don’t.

Yes, I say, but you have a real job. You don’t put away clothes and dishes for the millionth time. You don’t yell at kids to stop running through the house.

Pearl, he says, our jobs are the same. People buy product, I order more. We restock the shelves. Then the product goes away and I do it all over again. And, he adds, an underdressed boy streaking through our living room, there is always at least one person who isn’t doing their job right, and I have to get on them about it.

He is right–of course he is right. His work life isn’t glamorous. There is no totem pole, no ladder to climb. We’re all in muck and mud–his just happens to gleam a bit.
My griping lands in knowing ears, kindly, but unsympathetic.
Our responsibilities are split down the middle.
Once a person told me the breadwinner of the family only has a part time job. When they come home from work it is time to clock in for their full-time job.

It sounds lovely. There is a piece of me that wants to argue this, to put it into practice. But the practical me, the tired me, she knows a secret: my kids have parents who love each other, and this is good enough.
Love really does cover up a bevy of faults. Grant us both the weariness to not find them, Lord.

We break out the oil pastels. I forget and let the kids use them on the carpet. My husband, who will never notice pink streaks in the carpet, not even when he lays on it every evening to stretch out his back, doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind because I don’t tell him. I don’t tell him because he doesn’t want to know.
He loves to see me paint, loves it when I cook, loves to come home to the newest endeavor. Loves to hear our kids make music, cookies, pictures, projects. Enchanted by our homemade candle making, chemistry experiments, gingerbread decorating, outside adventures.
He is tired, I am tired, we are equal; equally tired.
It is satisfying, to be loved dearly by another tired person.

After kids are put to bed, he comes back to the living room and watches the news or Youtube. He dives in the rabbit hole–videos on growing strawberries in Alaska, choreographed Christmas lights, rednecks feeding raccoons, traveling in Turkey, how jellybeans are made. After a half hour or so, he turns it off and sighs, done for the day.
“Well, that was an interesting smorgasbord,” I tease.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve got a lot of interests,” he says.

“Or none at all,” I joke. 

And these weary parents go to bed, happy.