Brooding 'bout Books

I realized in sign language today that my family's approach to books is unusual. This was not a new revelation, of course, but I faced the fact and looked at it a while.

We had an exam today. In general I enjoy exams (is that a weird thing to say? I suppose that's another way I am weird), but I get really excited when I am surprised by a sign language exam. Which I usually am, since I don't usually note when I have them. It's okay, since I've never gotten lower than 95%, with an average of probably 100. (Bonus questions mean I usually have over 100.)

Anyway, for part of the exam she signed a question which we had to answer using the vocabulary she did. One question was, "Do you have a dictionary in your house?"

I laughed inwardly. The thought of someone not having a dictionary was strange to me.

I replied: "I have literally dozens of dictionaries at my house." Then I thought. Perhaps I don't have literally 24 dictionaries at home. I couldn't think of that many. So I added: "Maybe not literally dozens. Maybe just one dozen."

(I was having fun with the questions that quiz. If I were a teacher-something I have been gathering ideas about as I note how different people teach-I would want my students to. It would be amusing.)

There's the random house, the heritage, the children's, that green one-Webster's, I believe, I am sure there's at least one in the barn...okay, maybe we don't have even a dozen, unless you count Latin-, Spanish-, Greek-English and Bible dictionaries.

After class, I talked to some ladies who were also in ASL 3 and we practiced some vocabulary. I clarified the sign for dictionary for them. It's a D handshape struck against the open hand. "Like you're flipping through pages looking for a word," I explained.

"Who looks up words anymore?" one asked. "That's what we have digital ones for! Nobody has dictionaries."

"We do," I replied.

Then she stated something that rather shocked me. They had no books in their house, no bookshelves, because when they moved they had read all of the books they owned and they were all boxed up now.

She and the other lady continued talking while I tried to comprehend this statement. Somehow the other lady's response sank into my staggering brain. "Why do you still have them if you read them all? You should pass them on so someone else can read them."

I managed to say, "You might want to read them again," when all I could think was why wouldn't you still have them?

The idea that someone has read all of the books they own was still swirling in my mind.

I told them that we had a bookshelf in every room in our house except one of the bathrooms, and even that one often had books in it. I described our book barn with its fifty-two shelves. And they were surprised when I said that if we added together all of the books all of us have read, we still probably wouldn't have read all of the books we have.

That does seem rather ridiculous if you think about it.

But if you're a Beerbower, you don't think about it; it's just natural. And there is the hope that someday you'll find time to read at least a good portion of them. You never know what book you might happen to want.

During class, we had been put into groups of three and each given a paper with furniture on it to pick three of to place in a diagram of a living room. In stumbling sign, I had said every room needed bookshelves, and the other two girls had agreed and even put one on either side of the fireplace. (We arranged a room so awesome that we all wished it was ours-it had a baby grand piano in it.)

Because as Cicero says, "A room without books is like a body without a soul."

According to Horace Mann, we're doing well: "A house without books is like a room without windows. No man has a right to bring up his children without surrounding them with books, if he has the means to buy them."

And following Erasmus' precedent, most people do: "When I have a little money, I buy books; and if I have any left, I buy food and clothes." Ach...there are so many good book quotes...

'Tis too bad you can't absorb books by simply being surrounded by them...

(Excuse me for the bad post. I don't feel like revising at the moment, and I want to post it today. Someday perhaps I shall write a good essay on this topic.)

Another Surprise Party

You might think we'd get tired of it after a while.

I mean, how many have we done?

The planning is confusing.

 We spend days or weeks or months, even, trying to coordinate schedules-without being found out.

Everything could be done more simply.

And yet, we continue to pursue the unexpected.

We take the more difficult route.

We guess and connive.

We run with excitement.

We gesticulate and discuss and argue and wonder.

We hope we haven't messed anything up.

We wait...

and wait...

and hide...

and at last, we cry out, "Now!" and with beating heart, jump out.

And all this for that one moment.

All for a few seconds of excitement.

All for the look of surprise on a friend's face.

All for the fun that lasts a few minutes, just to amuse ourselves.

Why?

For the memories.

For that look,

that flattered, happy face,

for the cry, "Well, that was a surprise,"

that makes everything worth it.

Yes, we did another surprise birthday party. We hid in the cornfields by the Cornwells' (yeah, I'm amused by that juxtaposition) and waited for Parker to come home with his father. Then we jumped out, and, naturally, the boys jumped him.

And we sang one of the most beautiful happy birthdays I've ever heard. There was one at youth group I remember that was absolutely horrific, but no other one comes to mind that was notably worse.

Isaac valiantly attempted to rescue his brother. (Yes, he was still pinned to the ground while we sang happy birthday.)

This was one of the most successful surprise birthday parties we have done. Parker said, "When I saw people running, I thought, 'Oh, my family is coming out.' Then I realized that was way too many people to be my family."

 On a scale of one to ten? "I've never been more surprised."

Oh, yeah. Success!

Parker with his sister Abby, the mastermind behind the party.

The party continued with lots of fun at the Cornwells' hospitable household, beginning with a tour of their beautiful, peaceful house.

 There was a bit of volleyball in the rain, and exploring of their reading room.

Including a discussion of what tolle lege means, which no one seemed to remember.

(It appropriately means take up and read.)

Eric and Nick excitedly discovered world peace.

Some of us enjoyed perusing what books they had.

With pizza and other yummy munchies, a game of four-on-a-couch (which almost ended a number of times with either side winning and finally was drawn, two-and-two on a couch), another lovely singing of happy birthday, some ice cream sandwich cake (Parker successfully blew out his one candle), and a final few games of Mafia, we bade them goodnight and Parker happy birthday and concluded the day an all-around success.

It's worth it, every time.

Surrendering Desires

Lately I have been discontent. Even to me, it seems silly. How greatly the Lord has blessed me! How can I be ungrateful?

Yet I have been discontent. Why? Because of desires.

For the most part, my desires are not, to my knowledge, wrong. God gives us desires-imagine life without desires. If such a life were possible, it would not be a righteous life.

But we are called to die to self. That what we long for is good does not mean that we have a right to it.

For example, I have been discontent in my relationships with my friends. Often, they are busy and when I feel the need to talk to someone, it doesn't happen until the issue feels less pressing. The conversation I expect to happen does not. The person I want to see doesn't come. This has happened over and over again.

These are not bad desires that I should root out of my life. God has given us each other. Fellowship is good; iron sharpens iron. The older women are to teach the younger women, so the younger women must be willing to be taught. We are commanded to love one another.

However, over and over, when I want someone's opinion, it somehow doesn't work out. (Of course, in these lower moments, all those times I was encouraged by a friend are conveniently forgotten.) I've come to see the Lord trying to teach me. But I haven't learned, so it happens again. It's as if He's saying, You must rely on Me. I can fulfill your needs. Come to Me. Ask of Me.

But I want to ask a person. I want to hear someone say, This is what I would do. I understand how you feel. I think if you do this it will honor the Lord.

I want to please the Lord. But so often I don't want to come to Him myself. I want a mediator. My first impulse is not to turn to Christ. Many times, I start to pray, and then I start to imagine a conversation with a friend. If I asked her this, she would say... rather than God says. And so, in order to teach me to rely first on Him, He removes my other supports.

These other supports aren't bad, mind you. Just distracting from The Support.

So, in this and other desires, I long for something good (peace in the Lord, for example) and seek to fulfill it in a good way (comfort from His people) but neglect the best way (finding peace that passes understanding in Him), so God must remove those good ways, until I learn to use the best way.

It reminds me of a verse from Isaiah, which isn't exactly the same idea, but relates.

“Why do you spend money for what is not bread,
  And your wages for what does not satisfy?
  Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good,
  And delight yourself in abundance."



Why do we settle for dust when God offers us gold?

Because we do not see with eyes of faith, and only with eyes of faith does this make sense.

How can a relationship that isn't physical, isn't visible, tangible, or audible be enough? How can I be satisfied with something I cannot see?

I guess that's why it's called peace that passes understanding.

That was a long tangent from discussing discontentment. However, it's something I've been  considering a lot, this idea of relying on the good things God gives us, such as godly friendships, rather than Him, and something I think most people are tempted to be discontent in.

Any desire has the temptation of bringing discontentment, no matter how good that desire is. For example, I want to have a mission, a clear purpose, specifically to make a difference in the lives of the fatherless-whether literally fatherless or not-but those who are aching because they do not know peace and are disillusioned with the world.

Of course, this is a good desire. It is in line with Scripture, which calls us to love one another and care for the orphan and widow (which I see as a broad category).

When, last year, I was inspired to live an eternity-focused life, one of the things my friend and I caught a vision of was to have lived a biography-worthy life. To be like George Mueller, Amy Carmichael, Gladys Alward. To not have people wonder, when someone says at your funeral, "She was such a godly woman, always serving the Lord," if they aren't exaggerating a bit, what they're exactly referring to. To have people point to you and say, "That person changed my life," and it be obvious, more than, "She was my friend and encouraged me."

Again, this isn't a bad desire, necessarily. Over and over again in Scripture, God speaks of reward, of honor, of having a good name. "A good name is better than riches," Proverbs says.

But our ideas of serving the Lord aren't always His. As I discussed with my friend yesterday, He is more interested in obedience than in sacrifice. Our works are our sacrifice, but our heart's attitude is more important. God doesn't need our service.

So, desiring to have this ministry, I can become discontent. I have often thought I would not want to marry a rich man (and by rich I don't mean super rich). To learn to deal with wealth would be a struggle for me. I do not want to live "the American dream," to simply have a nice house in a neighborhood, a steady job, four kids, and spend my time taking kids to soccer practices. Even if I add a dozen kids to that American dream, I am not content with that picture. I want something more exciting. More eternally significant.

Yet I am afraid this has more to do with my pride than any desire to please God. How spiritual I am, when I don't care about money, how I look, pop culture, watching movies, the latest trends.

Would I be willing to live a "regular, boring" life, with two public schooled kids, a dog, a comfortable income, in a nice little neighborhood? I am afraid not.

And yet, that is no less honoring to God. It is eternally significant. It is not doing God service to become a missionary when He's calling you to this sort of life. To obey is better than sacrifice.

And, ironically, I realize that were I to get exactly what I want (and do I even know what that is? No, I don't), I would be discontent. You see it over and over again: desire to be older-then you wish you were younger. Desire a job-you wish you didn't have to work. Desire to be married-you miss doing things you could before and long for children. Get children-you resent the necessary sacrifices. Tire of young kids-they grow, and you wish they were young.

I want a special ministry, but what if God called me to be a missionary? I have never wanted to go and be a missionary, because I never wanted to leave home or family. Everything I want, I know I would still be discontent if I got it.

So I've been learning, I must surrender my desires. Do I want to spend time studying Scripture with friends? Do I want to have some "special" calling? Do I want a dozen kids? Do I want to mentor hopeless girls? No matter how good the desire, I must give it up. I must be willing to live without it. I must not think God needs my help, or that in order to please Him I must serve in whatever way I think I should.

Then, I think, God will probably give back my desires. I do have good friends who challenge me spiritually. I probably will get married and have a bunch of home schooled kids. Most likely I'll never be rich. I probably will lead a Kid's Club or in some way work with practical orphans. These things aren't really the issue.

It's interesting how God works. He prepares us so well for a role-and then He calls us to something totally different. Like Paul, who knew Judaism inside and out-and was sent to the Gentiles. He calls us to what we are unprepared for, so that we learn to trust in Him. So that we realize that whatever we're doing isn't what satisfies us. It's only Him.

Talking about writing with my friend, I had an idea for a story, which I suddenly really wanted to do. We were talking about how our characters became real to us, how we would like to meet them in real life. What if they did? I wondered. Then, I thought it would be interesting to write a story with you, the author, in it, and have the characters come to life.

(About now, if you're actually reading this long post, you're wondering what this has to do with the topics at hand. Don't worry; I shall explain.)

As I imagined this, I laughed and said to my friend something like, "They might not like what you're doing." So, these characters would come out of the story into real life because of this terrible situation they are in and complain to you, the author. Get us out of this situation! they would cry. Why would you do this to us? Whining, they would try to get you to write it differently.

But you, as the author, can see the end. You know that if you rewrite the story as the characters wish you would, the ending would be messed up. No, you tell them gently, it has to be this way. Don't worry-it'll turn out all right. You send them back into the story, and despite enjoying your characters, you do not change it for all their pleading. Because you can see the end.

It wasn't until I explained this idea for a book to my friend that I realized the implications you doubtless saw immediately. I felt silly even mentioning them to her since they were so obvious. "The intellectual parallels of that would be cool," I said. "That's just like our relationship with God."

He sees the ending. We see where we are. We think that if God wrote it this way or that way, it'd be much better. But God knows how to work it out, and it's not by making sure the characters are always content and happy.

And for that reason, it would be best if the characters choose to be content and happy, knowing that the Author knows what He's doing, and His way will work out best. Even when His ways seem to be contrary to His own goal (as I wrote in my poem a couple months ago). Even when it seems that He's putting us through unnecessary heartache or trouble.

Sometimes as a parent, you deny a child their desire, not because you don't want them to have that, or because you are unkind, but because of that child's attitude. Were they to change it, you would immediately grant their request. Because you understand that character is more important than comfort.

Somehow, however, these things we know get forgotten and do not transfer when we need to apply them to our lives, to some specific situation. If we trust that God is our good Father, why do we try to hold onto what we want? If He doesn't give it to us, He has something better. Maybe not better in our eyes, but do we want to trust our vision?

Right about now is where I wish I could give you a magic formula which, after using, you would always be willing to give up anything God asked of you. However, there isn't one. God doesn't work by formulas. He works by relationships. And relationships are hard and messy and take work as long as there's sin in the world.

I wish there was a formula, so I could use it. After surrendering my desires, they returned, and I have to do it again. Every time I am tempted to rely on something, anything, other than Christ, I have a choice. Too often I choose to surrender to my desires rather than surrendering my desires to Christ.

"Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart."

It is good to know that not only will God fulfill our desires, but He will conform our desires to His. So what is the secret to contentment, to surrendering our desires? The secret to all trouble: knowing Christ. Conforming to Him. It is only as we lose sight of Him and focus on our life on earth that we can be discontent. We have Christ-what else do we need?

The Cross

Several months ago while I was in the barn, the title of a book caught my attention. For those of you who are unaware, while most people keep animals or old cars in their barns, our barn would more appropriately be called a library. We don't go to the public library very often because it is generally safe to assume we have a book if it isn't new.

Anyway, the title that caught my attention was Glenda's Story. I forget the subtitle. The book was a thin, white volume and though I had other things I was intending to do, I picked it up and read the whole book. Looking it up, I find that the subtitle is Led by Grace.

Her story is sad. Her parents didn't want her and abused her, she had no friends, and she went through anorexia and depression. Yet when she grew up and was led to Christ by a tract, she was able to completely forgive and move on. She even kept contact with her parents and tried to lead them to Christ. It was challenging to me because so often we excuse our bad responses by what others have done to us-yet for many of us, we've gone through nothing even close to any one of those things. So we struggle to forgive a sibling who annoys us, while people like Glenda freely forgive those who have inflicted mental hurt that we cannot imagine. I find myself thanking God that He has spared me from such things because I wonder if I could forgive them.

When I finished the book, I sat in the barn and thought, and then I wrote a poem. It's probably my favorite of all the poems I have written.

The Cross

I look at the cross;
I've seen it before;
It seems to be nothing new.
Sure, Christ has suffered,
But so have others,
Some, it seems, in a worse way too.
Father, forgive me! As I look at the cross,
I do not see Your pain.
I do not realize all You have suffered,
All for sinners' gain.
All for those who despise Your gift,
For those who just scorn Your loss,
Who scarcely take an upward glance
When they pass once more Your Cross.

I feel betrayed;
I feel I suffer,
Wond'ring why God doesn't care.
I am a Christian,
I'm following Him,
So why does it seem He's not there?
Father, forgive me! As I pass by the cross,
Too wrapped in my own pain,
To look up and realize all You have suffered,
And this, all for my gain.
Too wrapped up in my own hurt
To count it all as loss,
Too busy playing a martyr's role
To take up my own cross.

Help me see the cross
Like never before;
Help me to see it anew,
Make me to realize
In powerful ways,
All that You went through.
Father, impress me! As I look at Your cross,
Help me despise my pain,
As I realize all You have suffered,
All for sinners' gain.
Fill my heart with love consuming
Willing to bear all loss,
Scarcely to notice the passing pain,
As I gaze at the cross.

~ Jeannette Beerbower