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Clay, Sheep, Servants……

May 25, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Now that I have written twice about the metaphor of the Potter (God) and us (the clay), I became somewhat concerned about using that image only. If we are just a mute, senseless piece of clay, it doesn’t sound terribly intriguing to trust our lives to a God who is only there to shape us into whatever He wants.

A few weeks ago I remembered a section in The Sacred Romance by John Eldredge, speaking about the many different ways in which God relates to us:

The Scriptures employ a wide scale of metaphors to capture the many facts of our relationship with God. If you consider them in a sort of ascending order, there is a noticeable and breathtaking progression.

At the bottom of the totem pole there is the image of God as the Potter and we the clay. But that picture gives us as pots no communication, no ability to ask questions, express emotions or even have an opinion. (Isaiah 64:8)

Mercifully, there are other comparisons in the Bible portraying the relationship between God and us as his created beings. Moving up from the Potter and the clay is the image of The Good Shepherd. (Psalm 23) Because we are pictured as the sheep and Jesus the Shepherd, both beings are now at least living, and the image is one of the Shepherd keeping us safe, holding us in his arms, keeping away wolves and other predators. It is comforting yet still not complete.

Then there is the description where we are servants of God. (Matthew 25:21) Somehow many of us take on that role quickly and easily. God tells us what to do and we obey, swiftly and without discussion. Often we do and do and do, anything and everything that needs to be done – for the needy, for the hurting, for our families or the committees at church. The focus is on doing work, and doing it well. It too is a good image, yet incomplete. Servants are valuable but are not able to get too close to the Master. Yet many of us get stuck at this point.

Thankfully, God also calls us his children, and He our heavenly Father. (1 John 3:1) Children have a lot more intimacy with their parents than clay does with potters or shepherds with their sheep. They also have a lot more freedom than servants. Children can come into the house at any time, be a little annoying and misbehave, yet still be loved.

But even in the best parent-child relationship there is still something missing. If we continue searching out our relationship with God, we amazingly find that Jesus calls us His friends.

…photo by Kari Matthews

With you, my daughters, we have progressed from the mother-daughter relationship to one of friendship. I count you among my most precious friends. Yes, there is still the fact that I am your mother, and you my daughters but we have relationships that are honest, open and vulnerable.

I count it an incredible miracle that Jesus calls us His friends. (John 15:15) Many people in the world mock the fact it is possible that the Creator of the universe would converse with people, or that He even cares. But the Bible tells us it is so, and I call Him my very best friend.

Yet, there is one other level the Bible speaks of – that we are God’s beloved. (Song of Songs 7:10) He is simply crazy about you and I. There are some dark, confusing days when I still struggle to believe, yet I know it’s true. How He longs for us to talk to Him, to trust Him with our most difficult parts of life. He loves to hear our honest hearts, our raw and aching emotions, our deepest joys.

Our husbands are also our beloved, but they simply cannot be there for us all the time. They are not capable of dealing with or understanding our inmost longings, desires, and joys. We need our Creator who knows us better than we know ourselves, who calls us His beloved, to give us the confidence that we need so that we too can love as He does.

How I rejoice in the fact that day or night, He is there. Yes, He is shaping me like a potter shapes His clay. Indeed, He protects me like a shepherd does his sheep. I am His servant, His child and His friend, but best of all I am God’s beloved.

And so are you….

So, hold on loosely to this life. There will be dark times, anguish, disappointments and times of perplexity. But there will also be hope for the future, peace during turbulent happenings – all because you are God’s beloved.

In this we can all greatly rejoice.

Love, Mom

The Tea Cup Story

May 3, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

After I watched Charlene spin her projects on the potter’s wheel several weeks ago, I was reminded of a simple story I received via email a few years back. A dear friend sent it to me when I was at one of the lowest physical and emotional times of my life. It arrived shortly after I had to quit my teaching job mid-year because of illness and I was at home day after day, lying on the couch alone most of the time and lamenting my lot in life.

The questions raged in my head: Why wasn’t God healing me so I could teach? Didn’t He care about me anymore? Had He forgotten that I still existed, hanging by a thread? The verse `God grants sweet sleep to those He loves’ mocked me day after day as I was haunted with doubts and nights with little sleep. I had so many questions, but all I heard from God was silence.

The story from my friend goes like this:

There was a couple who used to go to England to shop in the beautiful antique stores. They both liked antiques and pottery and especially teacups. Spotting an exceptional cup they asked, “May we see that, we’ve never before seen a cup quite so beautiful.” As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke:

You don’t understand. I have not always been a teacup. There was a time when I was just a lump of red clay.

My master took me and rolled me, pounded and patted me over and over and I yelled out, `Don’t do that, I don’t like it, let me alone.’ But he only smiled and gently said, `Not yet.’

Then WHAM! I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. `Stop it, I’m getting so dizzy. I’m going to be sick,’ I screamed. But the master only nodded and said quietly, `Not yet.’

He spun me and poked and prodded and bent me out of shape to suit himself, and then…..and then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I yelled and knocked and pounded at the door. `Help! Get me out of here!’ I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook his head from side to side. `Not yet.’

When I thought I couldn’t bear it another minute, the door opened. He carefully took me out and put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. Oh, that felt so good. `Ah, this is much better,’ I thought. But, after I cooled he picked me up and brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible, I thought I would gag. `Oh please, stop it, stop it!’ I cried. He only shook his head and said, `Not yet.’

Then suddenly he put me back into the oven. Only it was not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I knew I would just suffocate. I begged, I pleaded, I screamed. I cried. I was convinced I would never make it. I was ready to give up. Just then the door opened and he took me out and again placed me on the shelf where I cooled and waited and waited, wondering `What’s he going to do to me next?’ An hour later he handed me a mirror and said, `Look at yourself.’ And I did. I said, `That’s not me; that couldn’t be me. It’s beautiful, I’m beautiful!’

Quietly he spoke, `I want you to remember.’ Then he said, `I know it hurt to be rolled and pounded and patted, but had I just left you alone, you’d have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped you would have crumbled. I know it hurt and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn’t put you there you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn’t done that, you never would have hardened. You would not have had any color in your life. If I hadn’t put you back in that second oven you wouldn’t have survived for long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are a finished product. Now you are what I had in mind when I first began with you.’

Somehow that little story brought me peace. I could maybe, possibly, believe that things would not always be this hard, life would get better.

I love to read stories, funny stories, fantasy stories, sad stories, real life stories. The Color of Grace by Bethany Williams is a real life story I read recently about the brokenness, agony and depression she survived after a painful divorce. After years of therapy, healing, and counseling, Bethany has become the founder of Exile International, a ministry devoted to former child soldiers and children orphaned by war in Africa.

The stories of these children are brutal, beyond my comprehension – rape, witnessing their families being murdered, sometimes being forced to do the dastardly deeds themselves. But the hope, the joy in eyes that were once dark with hopelessness, the dancing and laughter that is the result of new life they have received from Jesus Christ, is simply astounding. There is no longer bitterness or darkness. No blaming God for their lives of horror. In Bethany’s words;

…in witnessing their [the children’s] strength, I realized in our American quest for comfort, our resilience muscle has been weakened. In our desire to have things “quick and easy,” we have atrophied our ability to thrive and survive. So we now have quick, and we now have easy, but we have less strength to cope with life when it becomes difficult.

In our quest for comfort, we have weakened our ability to be uncomfortable. Funny how we think we are the strong ones. I have found the strong ones. I am surrounded by them.

My pain is real pain, your pain is real pain. But there is a certain beauty that comes from sitting close to and parking with our pain. When we run from it we fail to see what God is working through it. But if we embrace it, knowing that God is walking with us it can become a beautiful thing.

Every one of us has pain, whether it be a broken relationship, a broken body or a feeble mind, secrets we keep out of fear, grief over death. Whatever it is, know that your Heavenly Father catches your tears, weeps with you. He will not remove all pain, but he has promised to walk with us giving us his peace.

There are many days I would love to have physical healing, I have prayed for it for years. My dream is to be able to walk a mile. Apparently God has something better in mind for now, maybe to show His strength in my weakness. Whatever the case, I will trust Him to do what He deems best. I encourage you to trust Him with your pain as well.

Love, Mom

Throwing Pottery

April 13, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

I’ll be throwing pottery Friday if you want to come and watch, said the text from your cousin Charlene last week.

Throwing pottery? I knew she was a potter, but had not heard that term before. At any rate I decided to go and see her work as a novice.

So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands…….Jeremiah 18:3

When I arrived she was working on a partially finished bowl and had just a few finishing touches before it would be ready for the kiln. Upside down on the wheel, she carefully trimmed away some excess clay so the bowl would be just right. She was careful, yet still some chunks broke loose and the beautifully crafted rim she had molded was marred. Charlene simply chuckled and said,

Well, sometimes we think we are this, but then we are that.

She threw the broken chunks into a nearby 5-gallon blue bucket, not even lamenting about the change of plans, but remarked,

Nothing is wasted. All the mistakes just go into this bucket and we use them for a later project.

Immediately I thought about Romans 8:28 “…and we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose…” How often have I mourned and become angry about things that have happened to me, how I have not embraced the pain, the grief and the hurt that have come. I have simply wanted the agony to go away. I could see no point except pain in what was happening, and who wants that?

But God, our perfect Potter, wastes nothing. He saves the pain for a later project. Sometimes we think we are one thing, but God has another plan, a better plan. So a few chips get knocked off and He continues to do his good work.

Charlene used lots of different tools but her favorite was a little 89-cent sponge from the grocery store. A simple tool, but so effective. With it she could smooth the clay or make thin little lines all around the pot. She spoke,

Any good tool has many purposes.

Just think of all the tools God uses on you – your husband, your children, annoying workers at the office, rude neighbors and apartment dwellers, slow thinkers and movers. Every one of them has a purpose, to help mold us to become more patient, kind, generous, less boastful, more humble – more like Jesus.

After the first pot was finished Charlene started another vase beginning with a single lump of clay. She threw it on the blue plastic bat which was attached to the wheel head. It didn’t stick the first time so she threw it again, adhering well. But there it was on the edge of the bat. Even I knew that this was not going to work. So a few more times of throwing and it landed, with a little encouragement, exactly in the center.

Centering is everything.

Yep, that sure sounds like real life. If I don’t center myself on Jesus first thing in the morning, my day is not going to go well. I will find myself more critical, impatient, and annoyed. Just this morning I woke late, so jumped out of bed without even a word to Jesus and started my morning routine. At breakfast I snapped at a comment Dad had made, which typically happens less than it used to. Then I remembered, Oh yeah, I never asked for strength and help this morning, I just tried doing things in my own strength, which isn’t much these days.

As I watched that ugly lump of clay spin around on the potter’s wheel, it slowly took shape in the loving, wedging, nestling hands of Charlene. Watching her hover around the lump of clay I could see her joy in her work, her love for the art, and her vision for what was going to appear. Every now and again she would stop and center the lump a little better because it would tend to stray. She said,

Do not let the clay tell you what to do; it will become a very naughty toddler. This pot seems to have an attitude so I’ll have to center it again.

How often do I tell Jesus I don’t really like how my life is shaping up? I sometimes give him some ideas which I think would be much better: If you could just make things easier, less invasive, more predictable, yada yada. Really? I’m trying to tell the genius creator of the universe that I have a better plan? Perhaps I need to work on centering myself so I become more submissive, more obedient, trusting and accepting of what comes my way, knowing that God’s ways are ultimately the best. Giving thanks for the difficult stuff.

The potter is the hero of the story.

She is the one who forms, shapes and creates beauty with a seemingly useless ugly lump of clay. I think we (I know for sure I) want to be the hero and tend to put ourselves in a far too important role at times. But we must keep in mind always that Jesus is the Hero, He is the creator and sustainer of all things. Everything He does is good and will be used someday in His grand story.

I left that day before Charlene fired the pots in the kiln, however, I did learn that it heats up to 1800 degrees, and the pottery is cooked not once but twice. Once after the shaping, another time after the glaze is applied. I believe we as people go through the fire as well, our lives heat up almost beyond bearable, but at just the right time we are taken out and left to cool. How else can we become strong and durable? It certainly doesn’t happen when our life is sweet and cushy as marshmallows.

Making pottery is a process, and I now understand why handmade pottery is expensive. It gave me a whole new appreciation for the work Charlene does and the work, care and patience God has for me. Let Him have His way with you, my dear daughters, and you too will become beautiful in the hands of the Potter.

Love, Mom

The Extra Puzzle Piece

March 21, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Last year I bought a beautiful puzzle for Grandma, a picture of a little girl playing the piano. After we completed it we noticed there was one lonely piece left over. It was an exact duplicate of another piece, so someone somewhere must have wondered why they were lacking one.

I have had that extra puzzle piece taped to my bedroom wall for the last year thinking there must be something significant about an extra piece of a puzzle.

Sometimes I feel like an extra puzzle piece, like I just don’t fit in, like the puzzle is finished and I’m on the outside looking in.

I remember being at a wedding reception where there was open seating – for me it is the horror of no pre-planned places to sit, so one has to move around from table to table trying to find a place to belong. This was during a time when I was extremely fragile emotionally because of life during that season. Dad and I went to one table full of laughter and smiles, knowing some people there, but they said the empty places were being saved for someone else. So we traveled on to another but there too, reserved for others. Finally at the fourth table there was room, but by that time I was nearly in tears so we went through the buffet line, wrapped up our meals and left. I think Dad gave some excuse that I wasn’t feeling well. True Story.

Do you ever feel like that, thinking that you are the only one struggling, the only person who doesn’t have it all together, crying on the inside but forcing a smile on the outside while everyone around you seems to be happily traversing through life?

Many years ago I remember looking at other couples thinking they must have such carefree marriages, simply because they were physically attractive or so personable to everyone. Then I started getting to know some of these beautiful people, talking honestly with them, and found out that heartaches occur in every marriage, rich or poor, glamorous or not. There are no exceptions.

A few weeks ago Saeed Abedini, a prisoner in Iran for over 3 years, was finally released. Since he and his wife, Nagmeh, lived in Boise, Idaho, there was lots of publicity in our area, public prayers and rallies for his release. His wife was an avid participant in many rallies for several years. Many people were shocked when five days after his release last month, Nagmeh filed for legal separation from her husband. Apparently there has been abuse in the marriage for years, and she finally became open and honest about it. I’m praying that the abuse will be dealt with, repentance and forgiveness will become a reality. But I remember thinking in the past that their marriage must be ideal because they’re a missionary couple.

I don’t care how good couples or singles look at the party, church, or family gathering, what goes on behind closed doors can be another story.

We were created for Eden and when we don’t experience perfection, or near to it, we grow frustrated and upset. There is a reason we are disappointed. God set eternity and perfection in our hearts and when it doesn’t happen we become downright angry.

God has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men… (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Then we go on Facebook and see all the smiling faces, beautiful family pictures and perfect Pinterest ideals. But I know enough of the back stories of those photos to realize these pictures do not portray reality. They simply show a moment in time when there are smiles for the camera. What words were said and attitudes displayed before and after the camera shutter closed are not revealed, but we know those smiles do not continue through all moments of every day. Unfortunately, pictures seem to make us think they do.

Life is never going to be like our dreams, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t good.

In his book Bold Love, Dan Allender asks the questions:

Do I live for heaven?

Do I live demanding that life be like heaven?

The way we answer those questions will have a great deal to do with our attitude in life.

If we live for heaven, understanding that….

This world is not my home, I’m just passing through

My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue

The angels beckon me from Heaven’s open door

And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore

….then we can accept imperfections, disruptions, heartache, or feeling like a piece outside the puzzle. If we believe that this life on earth is temporary and we have an eternity before us, we will trust God with the disappointments and sorrows of our days. We will fight for good and against evil, and give thanks for the good gifts God so liberally gives, joyfully looking toward the time when there will be no tears.

But if we live demanding that life be like heaven, we will be forever disgruntled, blaming others for our unhappiness, becoming crabby and selfish. We need to be honest about our disappointments and heartache, knowing that in this world we will have trouble, but also that Jesus is our comfort and consolation in a world gone senseless.

There are many aspects of life that I would not have chosen – strained relationships, suicide, fatigue, dementia, insomnia, death, distance from those I love, arguments – yet without those experiences I would not have needed Jesus. I would not have been able to learn to love.

I’m certain every one of you have at times felt like that extra puzzle piece, simply because this is a fragmented world. But if we can learn to be content with the partial, remembering that this life isn’t supposed to be carefree and stress-free, we can perhaps live without clenched fists and anxious thoughts. Jesus knew our lives would be challenging so that we would lean into him and admit our need for a Savior. He wants us to grow up, to mature and become more like him. And of course there is no better way to grow up than to go through some tough perplexing problems that we cannot figure out on our own.

So be honest about your less than perfect marriage, your sometimes not obedient or respectful children, and invite Jesus into your mess. Ask him for strength to love, for perseverance to carry on, for faith to put your feet on the floor in the morning. Be thankful for the partial, the good in the darkness, and the hope for the future.

Love, Mom

A Shared Adventure

February 24, 2016 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

What is your favorite adventure story? One of my favorites is from the Chronicles of Narnia series, The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis. The story is about a boy and girl along with two talking horses escaping to Narnia, a country far from where they met. They are both separately fleeing the wickedness that is being planned against each one of them.

The children, Shasta and Aravis, did not at all like the other when they first met, but because of life’s circumstances and Aslan’s guiding paw, they bonded together (often out of necessity) in order to keep safe and complete the journey. Their expedition was complete with arguments, danger, difficult decisions of loyalty, and dealing with ordinary human quirks of pride and selfishness.

Every great story has battles and is filled with adventure, marriage being no exception. I had never perceived my marriage as a shared adventure until I read the chapter by that name in John and Stasi Eldredge’s book Love and War. The Bible is filled with the drama and adventure of marriage – Adam and Eve, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, David and Bathsheba, Hosea and Gomer. In all these marriages there were times of discord, anger, conniving, trickery, blame and heartbreak.

Marriages today are no different from thousands of years ago. Yes, the outward trappings have changed, but the emotions, challenges and battles remain the same. Just as God chose to work through those long-ago marriages, so He works through yours and mine. He has an adventure and a mission in mind for you and your man.

Whether it is traveling together, erecting a tent, or discovering a beautiful national park, we are awakened from the dulling effect of the daily grind. Some of Dad’s and my biggest fights came as I, the directionally impaired navigator, tried to make sense of the paper Atlas (way before Google Maps) and would tell him as we were flying by an exit that I think this is the exit we were supposed to take. Putting up a tent together wasn’t exactly romantic either but we learned something new and decided to forgive after a bit of grousing.

Anyway, it’s good for us to have adventures, but also a shared mission in life.

I had never before thought about my marriage as having a mission apart from raising children and trying to have a happy home. Both of those goals are good and noble, but if that is your only goal in life it’s going to be tough when the kids are out of the house and you realize that you don’t even know your husband any more. Once the kids are gone the sense of shared adventure evaporates. That is why empty nesters’ divorce rate is so high. The children were hiding the chasm – the husband and wife were never one.

When Dad started pastoring, I began teaching music Monday through Friday. It was not an ideal situation. Our days off were never the same, he took Mondays; I never took a day off – which I have paid for in recent years. We never took date nights (practical me thought they were too frivolous and expensive) and we drifted apart. We each had our own separate calling, and yes sometimes we collaborated on projects but really didn’t have a shared mission.

As John Eldredge says:

A beautiful you and a beautiful me in a beautiful place forever is not the right vision of a marriage. It backfires on you; it betrays you. For one thing, it ain’t gonna happen. Not until heaven. You will feel hurt and you’ll look for someone to blame if you hold on to this as your life’s goal. And besides, the vision is too self-centered, too inwardly turned. Like a bad toenail.

It seems strange, but now that Dad and I are caretakers for Grandpa and Grandma, I feel like this is the closest thing to a shared mission we have ever had. It takes both of us to do the work here, we tag team. Dad and I call ourselves Team Koopman, along with Rhonda, Valerie, Cheryl, Robert, Ruth, Jinx and Judy. We have a shared mission, a common goal – to lovingly care for Grandpa and Grandma here in their home.

Is it all smiles and happiness? No. Just last night Dad and I had a spat along with some strong words having to do with the division of labor. After almost 40 years we still do not see eye to eye on many subjects. But one thing I have learned recently is that I need to ask God to show me the plank in my own eye before I try to point out the speck in Dad’s.

Is it all difficult and heartbreaking? No. There is humor when Grandma waters the artificial plant in the Dr. office, and when she carries the large calendar around asking which day it is so she can be sure that we don’t forget to go where we need to go. Yes, there is sadness when I remember how bright and spry Grandpa and Grandma used to be, and see how difficult it is for them now. There is disappointment for Grandpa and me when I have to tell him that I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to fly to California by himself at age 90 to visit friends.

But over all there is still joy. Joy that we have a supportive crew to share in the mission we have here, which I know brings so much pleasure to the heart of God.

Have you ever asked Jesus what mission he has for you?

I encourage you to ask Him to give you a vision, a shared passion for something in the Larger Story of life. He may answer your prayer with a friend in need who needs encouragement, a disruption in life that may change the location or direction of your life, a calling that has always been lingering in your heart but now seems to be something within reach. As Frederick Buechner says:

The place where God calls us is the place where our deep joy and the world’s deep hunger meet.

How awesome would that be to find a shared mission that you both could embark on together? It’s interesting that complaining about the dirty dishes in the sink or replacing the roll of toilet paper doesn’t seem so significant when we are working together fighting to rescue girls from the sex trade, assisting a refugee family as they adapt to a new country, helping to find healing for young child soldiers, trying to encourage a family in the inner city, giving hope to a confused and hopeless teen.

Now you might find that some of your desires and dreams are not shared by your spouse. Each person has a unique role to play; we all have a personal calling. So sometimes it may be a most beautiful expression of companionship when we simply lay down our lives to help with our spouse’s calling.

I think of Dave and Joyce Meyer. Joyce is the focal point with her preaching, but Dave has laid down his life to be the support system for Joyce, preparing the way for her conventions and being her biggest cheerleader. Love is always in season.

Back to the story of The Horse and His Boy. The seemingly random adventure of Shasta and Aravis turned out to be part of a much Larger Story. Their journey together through the desert eventually led them to save Narnia from some fierce invaders intent on destroying the land. Aslan the Lion (a Jesus-like figure) had, of course, guided the whole story from behind the scenes.

Shasta and Aravis continued to have many quarrels but they always made it up so that years later “when they were grown up, they were so used to quarreling and making up again that they got married so as to go on doing it more conveniently.”

God brought both of you together for a beautiful reason. You need each other, and the world needs both of you – together.

Love, Mom

More Waffles and Spaghetti

January 29, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

So…I have a little more to share about the waffle and spaghetti comparison. In my last post I revealed that guys have little boxes in their heads and it is best for us women to stay in one box at a time and try not to confuse them by expecting them to do mental gymnastics as we so fluidly talk in our spaghetti noodles while they are stuck in their waffle box. Yes, I know it’s a challenge but it is possible.

Well, apparently men have some boxes that are completely wordless. I know it’s hard for you and I to imagine but it is true. Some of their boxes are completely EMPTY of words and thoughts.

I have experienced this before when I have seen Dad sitting and staring. In the past I’ve asked him what he is thinking, and he has said Nothing. I never believed him, suspiciously thinking that he was hiding something he was afraid to talk about. I must say I was quite surprised when I read Bill Ferrell’s words that it is indeed true that men actually have boxes containing no words. I still can hardly comprehend such a phenomenon is possible but I will hopefully, going forward, believe him and let him sit in that box when he needs to. I have spent way too much time in my life wanting him to be like me and talking about many subjects, often jumping from one to another.

Then, of course, there is one box that is the largest of all and right in the center of their waffle. It is the box they prefer to spend lots of time in and I imagine you can guess the subject of that box. Yep, it’s the sex box. It is obvious that the sex box is connected to all the other boxes that surround it, which makes it easy for him to jump into the sex box at any time and from most any subject. It’s not that sex is always on his mind, just most of the time. But to be fair, God hardwired men that way.

All married women know that men typically have much higher sex drives than we do. It has been said that women warm up slowly like a crock pot, men like a microwave. We will be much more interested in sex if we feel emotionally connected, and even then it will take time and patience for us to be ready. There will obviously be no desire if we are frustrated and angry with our man, but a guy is ready at a moment’s notice, night or day.

I remember wasting years wondering why Dad was not more like me in all ways – in verbal communication, in sexual appetite, food choices, humor, – you name it we were opposites. I obviously had never read a book on marriage before I was married, I just assumed that since we were both Christians it would be easy.

Big mistake.

I had no idea that God intended the mystery of marriage to be that of complement, compromise, and counterpart. He meant for marriage to be a lifetime of learning, of forgiving, of adventure. We humans are so complex, we don’t even know ourselves well, so how do we expect to be able to jump into an exclusive relationship with a man, expecting ease?

But now, back to the other boxes. As you remember, each box in a man’s brain contains only one subject. So when they bring up a subject they want to stick with it until they feel like that subject is finished. For men, each box is a problem to be solved so when you open one box there is one problem to solve. When you open the second box, there are two problems. When you open a third, there is a third problem, and it keeps on adding up. When we open up too many boxes so quickly a man often gets overwhelmed and either shuts down or gets angry. He may feel that he just can’t keep up so he will bail out of the conversation completely, walking away or clamming up.

When Dad brings up a subject I often find myself swiftly jumping in and adding my opinion to the idea at hand even though he hasn’t asked for it. Sometimes I may link that opinion with something else that jumps into my mind. Then I wondered why he quit talking. I now know that he probably gives up and goes to find one of those empty boxes to sit in awhile.

I’m not sure why I tend to listen better to people outside my family, definitely something I need to work on. I know I hate listening to talking heads on TV that jump into another’s statement before the end of their sentence, yet at times I do it to my own husband. Lord, help me.

I need to remember I am not Dad’s counselor, I cannot fix him, and maybe I won’t even be able to understand him. But I can accept him just as he is instead of foolishly trying to make him like me. I can listen to him and encourage him to talk, letting him stay in one box for as long as he needs to be there.

It definitely takes discipline for me and I suspect that it may for you too.

Love, Mom

Waffles and Spaghetti

January 14, 2016 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Men are like Waffles, Women are like Spaghetti was the title of a book I came upon the other day. Thinking it was a rather odd comparison, I read on….

When you look at a waffle, you see a collection of little boxes each separated by walls. Every box is detached from the other and they all make convenient holding places. Apparently this is typically how a man processes life. Their thinking is divided up into boxes that have enough room for one issue, but only one issue. The first issue of life goes into the first box, the second goes in the second box, and on and on.

A typical man, says Bill Farrell, lives in one box at a time and only one box. When a guy is at work he is at work. When he is in the garage puttering around, he is puttering around. When he is watching TV….well you know the rest of that sentence. That’s why he looks as if he’s in a trance and ignores all else that goes around him. Psychologists call this compartmentalizing – that is putting each part of life into a different compartment.

Because of the waffle structure of their brains, men are problem solvers by nature. They enter a box, look at the problem and formulate a solution. A man strategically organizes his life to spend most of his life in the boxes that he can succeed in. If possible, he will ignore the boxes that confuse him or make him feel like a failure. For example, if a man feels like his career brings him success he spends most of his time at work, at the expense of other priorities. If being home and communicating with his family is difficult he will spend more time in front of the TV. It’s a safe and comfortable box.

When it comes to communicating, men will often talk only if they believe they can reach a desirable outcome. But if they see no point to the conversation quickly, they get frustrated and clam up.

Many men find it easy to develop hobbies that consume their time. If a man finds something that he is good at and makes him feel good about his life, he will pursue it relentlessly. He may get emotionally attached to fixing, building, and maintaining projects. If he is good at gaming, research, computers, or fishing, that will become his focus. He knows what he gets back from these activities is predictable and safe, which can be much more certain than the outcome of a conversation with his wife.

So, basically men spend most of their time doing what they do best while they attempt to ignore the activities which may cause them to feel deficient. It is rather challenging for them to jump from one box to another quickly; they like to stay in a box until that subject is finished, then move on to another box.

The same day I read this interesting phenomenon about men’s brains, I decided to try it out for myself. Dad and I were working on making a Vistaprint family calendar for you girls. We have done this in the past and often ended up frustrated with each other because pictures conjure up all kinds of memories for me, but Dad is focused with the job of choosing the pictures and staying away from that inevitable walk down memory lane.

That night we needed to go through hundreds of pictures, narrowing down to 12 of our favorites. Ordinarily, I would comment on many pictures, talking about the memories that came up. I would say something like, Oh……that picture reminds me of the incredibly strong storm that came up on the lake and it was so fierce that we were out of power for 18 hours and the next day was my birthday so we went out to breakfast and later walked along Lake Michigan and…… This time, however, I decided to stay on the task at hand with no small talk. It was quite amazing how much more smoothly the process went when I let Dad stay in one box and not hop from one to another. The process was smooth and we got the job finished in record time. It was only a little difficult to refrain from bird walking.

In stark contrast to the waffle model of men, women process life more like a plate of spaghetti. Looking at a plate of pasta you notice that there are lots of individual noodles that all touch one another. If you tried to follow one noodle around the plate, you would intersect with many other noodles and who knows, you might even switch to another noodle without knowing it. That’s how women face life. Every thought and issue is connected to every other thought and issue even though it may be only in some remote way. Life is much more of a process for women than it is for men.

This is why women are so much better at multitasking than men. We can cook dinner, nurse the baby, instruct older children to quit fighting and get the table set while planning the next days’ activities. Because all our thoughts, emotions and convictions are connected we can move almost seamlessly from one piece of information to another and keep track of more activities than our husbands.

We consistently love to talk things through as we solve problems, and as we do we connect the logical, relational, emotional and spiritual aspects of the issue. Men, however, prefer to stay in one box at a time. Trying to jump boxes is tiring and confusing for them. Pam Farrel gives the following illustration of how women tend to sum up their day:

Joan gets home and says, “Honey, how was your day? I had a good day today. We just committed to a new educational wing at the university, and I have been asked to oversee the budget. I am so excited that they didn’t rule me out because I am a woman. You know women have been fighting for a place in society for decades, and it is good to see so much progress being made. I think it is neat that you treat the women who work for you with so much respect. Our daughter is so lucky to have you for a dad. Did you remember that Susie has a soccer game tonight? I think it is important we are there because the Johnsons are going to be there and I really want you to meet them. Susie and Bethany are getting to be good friends, and I think we should get to know her parents as well.”

As Joan is talking on and on her husband is getting lost, frantically trying to jump from one box to another in his waffle way of thinking. He simply cannot understand what the budget at the university has to do with Susie’s soccer game and their need to have a new friendship with the Johnsons.

God certainly has a sense of humor when we look at men and women in the light of waffles and spaghetti. Of course He created us this way on purpose so we could complement one another. Life would be quite boring if we were the same, even though at times it sounds like a good idea. But I think He must occasionally be chuckling as He watches us learn about each other and strive to communicate. Frustrations mount and sometimes anger erupts when we just don’t understand our men and they don’t get us, but that’s why we have a lifetime to learn.

So… now that I have read the first chapter of this book, I will have to ponder better how to communicate with my husband. I can see already why it is so important to have women friends and daughters to talk with, then our noodles can overlap in conversation and it’s all good. So thankful you are my friends as well as daughters.

Love, Mom

Major & Minor

January 1, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

As I am pondering the year that is almost complete, I started recalling all the Major as well as the Minor themes I have experienced during the year. As you know my favorite current author is John Eldredge, from whom I have borrowed the idea of Major and Minor themes.

Of course one of the Major themes of my year is God’s faithfulness and goodness. The sun came up every day, although we couldn’t always see it. One of life’s ultimate comforts is simply knowing that the sun is still shining above the clouds.

God gave strength for everything I needed to do – not all that I wanted to do – but enough for each day. He provided strength to wash both clothes and dishes, make meals, to answer many questions, find things that have been lost, picking hundreds of pounds of delicious garden produce, preserve many of those pounds, capture beauty in my camera, write in my gratitude journal, visit with relatives and friends.

Another major theme is that I have begun to sing again. For months I had only enough strength to do work that needed to be done. But now I am able to have enough energy to both play the piano and sing. It is such a joy to listen to Grandma play piano for a half hour every day, then take my turn to do the same.

Shortly after we moved to Idaho I asked God for a friend. We have many wonderful relatives in the area, but I asked for a friend close by. I was thinking of someone my age so we could have lots in common. Having moved many times in my life I have found that it is difficult to break into a community as a newcomer because many people already have their circle of friends, and circles don’t often easily open.

God surprised me and brought a friend who was also new to the area. Ruth, a young mother, her husband and 2-yearold son Jacob moved from Montana to live across the street from us a few months after we had moved in. Since then we have shared stories of our lives, recipes, laughter, hard as well as joyful times in our families, goods from our gardens, singing and playing piano together, and friendship.

A final Major theme is that of Dad and I learning to serve Grandma and Grandpa together. At the beginning of our time here we were not sure of our specific roles, but as we prayed together for wisdom and walked through each day, we learned how to help but not overstep our boundaries. Yes, there have been misunderstandings, disagreements, and times of forgiveness, but we are becoming comfortable with our roles and have learned to be grateful for one another and the work that is divided between us.

Of course there are the Minor themes that always come along in life as well, whether we invite them or not. One Minor theme is the continued chronic insomnia that I have experienced for the past 15 years. There were some days, after having several 4 and 5 hour nights, that I simply asked God to take me home if He would not grant me the sleep that I so desperately needed. I had sought help from many, but no one had answers. In the midst of the darkness of those days and verbalizing my anguish to Dad, he would simply sit and listen at my bedside as I cried. Because my cries and laments were shared, I was able to go on for yet one more day.

Then I founded someone in our little town who has given me hope once again. I have had many 8 hour nights, and actually can’t remember the last time I slept only 4 hours. Zed has found what we think is the root of the problem and I am slowly getting stronger day by day. Maybe…..soon I will have more endurance and energy.

Dying to self is certainly a Minor theme, but so necessary in our growth as Christ followers. When we moved to Idaho I thought I had died to myself, but God shows me new ways every day as we care for Grandpa and Grandma, how to continually find joy in serving and caring in many small ways, but that enrich all of our lives.

Another Minor theme, mixed with a Major has been talking to you, my daughters, about your dreams, your hopes, your disappointments and your sorrows. All of us have had struggles in our marriages this year. Things will be well for a time, and then just like the proverbial layers of onion, another weakness shows up which needs to be dealt with. The Enemy is always out to find our weaknesses and divide us from our husbands, to see the worst in them – and some days that is not at all difficult.

But throughout the fight for love, God has caused each one of you to grow stronger. Stronger in love, forgiveness, searching hard for beauty, learning to cast your cares and worries on Jesus. I can see your splendor growing and the amazing grace that you have received from God and have graciously given to your families.

I encourage you to look back for the Major and Minor themes in your own lives this year. I think there will be many in each category. Be still and thank God for both themes, knowing that He is walking with you every day. We have prayed for one another and will continue to do so. In that I rejoice.

Love, Mom

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. 3 John 4

Joy

December 23, 2015 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Last night we hosted a sing-along at our home. We invited people to simply come and join us in sharing some Christmas music. We had local friends, dark-skinned and light, with their guitar and ukulele, a few relatives, our neighbors down the lane – about 20 in all – a good variety of old friends and new. Grandma and I have been practicing for weeks our Christmas songs on the piano. Sometimes Grandma morphs from Go, Tell it On the Mountain into Jesus Loves the Little Children; other times she plays the verse of one song flowing seamlessly into the chorus of another, but most of the time is able to end on the same song she started.

There were no gifts given except that of sharing music together. After we caroled many Christmas songs, Susan and her friends taught us a new song:

Nothing behind, nothing before, the steps of faith,

Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.

We listened to our friends sing the song then joined along with them. After that we sang it as a 3-part round. It was beautiful as we all sang our parts, hearing the lovely harmony weaving in and out. Next Susan asked us if we had any stories of our walks of faith that we were willing to share with the group. We heard some stories of people coming to Idaho from New York, New Zealand, Michigan, California, Arizona, the Netherlands – all of us stepping out in faith, going where God had called us to go. All of us had journeyed many miles, sometimes not knowing what lay before us, but simply being obedient to God’s call on our lives.

I knew the stories of many of these people and the suffering they have endured. Yet here we were, singing with joy on our faces and in our hearts, thankful for our Savior Jesus Christ and the Rock he has been in all of our lives.

It’s interesting that the people who have been through hard things in life often seem to be the most joyful. I had heard the quote by Richard Nixon:

Only if you have been in the deepest valley, can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain,

and I have found that it’s true. Of course you have to pin that beast of bitterness and ingratitude to the floor, give thanks and fight for joy, it doesn’t just fall on you. There are those who have suffered and choose to stay in that prison of bondage. But the good news that Jesus brought to us thousands of years ago is that there is freedom – freedom from hurt, abuse, neglect, and broken hearts.

My friend, Marcia, posted the following prayer a while back and I think it’s profoundly beautiful. It’s not your typical prayer of blessing, but a prayer that comes from knowing real blessings can only come through hardship, adversity and the perseverance that results.

I pray this prayer for each of you, my daughters, because I know this is a prayer that God will answer in a most creative way for each of you. I am certain He will answer in His exquisite wisdom and timing.

A Franciscan Benediction

May God bless us with discomfort

At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships

So that we may live from deep within our hearts.

May God bless us with anger

At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of God’s creations

So that we may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless us with tears

To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war,

So that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and

To turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless us with just enough foolishness

To believe that we can make a difference in the world,

So that we can do what others claim cannot be done:

To bring justice and kindness to all our children and all our neighbors who are poor.

Amen.

Even though we will be far from all of you this Christmas, you are closer than ever in my heart, mind and soul. I will miss you and your families greatly, but know that God will bless you now and in the years to come…until we meet again.

Love, Mom

Family Trees

December 10, 2015 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

As you know, we have relatives of whom we are proud and those we would rather keep hidden. Amazingly, Jesus had the same type of family tree except that he wasn’t ashamed of them. I find it fascinating that before the birth of Jesus is ever mentioned in the book of Matthew, we find a rather lengthy, boring to most, genealogy. God’s history with His people has always been one of openness. There have never been any secrets with Him

In a classic Jewish genealogy women were not included, they were not deemed important enough. Remarkably in Jesus’ there were four women included. Not your good, upright and noble women, but women of shame. He was not consumed with the purity of His pedigree, but in the extreme value of every person on that list. There was Tamar, who disguised herself as a prostitute to trick her father-in-law into sleeping with her as a way of seeking justice from him, Rahab a prostitute from Jericho, Ruth, a foreigner, and Mary with an unplanned pregnancy.

In Jesus’ lifetime a person’s genealogy was similar to our resumes today. It gave a person validation, credentials. As in any resume, we all tend to expand on our best accomplishments and omit our worst failures. The ancients would typically feature ancestors who would hold them in high esteem, but leave out those of whom they were ashamed. Herod the Great, a King of long ago, destroyed his genealogy because he found it too embarrassing. But Jesus included these women in His because in God’s eyes there are no little people, no one who is below the grace of God, no one of whom to be ashamed.

Today I was looking through the homemade book My Life written by your great-grandma Vandermeer. It is a weighty book of genealogy that she spent decades compiling. The cover is thick heavy leather which she personally handcrafted. I still remember all her leather tools in a wooden box, watching her design the intricate artwork.

I must admit that it was both interesting and embarrassing to read a bit of my heritage. In our long ago family there were pioneers who came to the West in wagon trains, a prince, a woman who poisoned her husband at lunch, a poet, alcoholics, a missionary, a Singer Sewing Machine salesman, those who committed suicide – basically the typical menagerie that every family inherits.

The coming of Christ was right through families of messed-up monarchs and battling brothers, through affairs and adultery and more than a feud or two, through skeletons in closets and cheaters at tables. It was in that time of prophets and kings, the time of Mary and Joseph, that men were in genealogies and women were invisible. But for Jesus, women had names and stories and lives that mattered.

~ Ann Voskamp

The family tree of Jesus includes women who felt like outsiders, women who had been hopeless, who felt invisible and forgotten, women who had been close to giving up on life, those who were unappreciated and dismissed. You know of anyone who’s ever felt like that?

I remember when I was 16 and first driving by myself, wondering if cars would see me because I often felt invisible. At times I would be amazed that people would wait for me to make a turn before they drove on. I know that sounds silly, but that was a time in my life that I did not feel important or even visible. I imagine the fact that I was tall, skinny and awkward, plenty of zits, braces and shy had something to do with it.

The centuries seem not to have changed much for women. Today many of us feel the same, our society lauding women more for their bodies and outward beauty than their hearts and those deep desires within.

Last month Christie Hefner was honored by the YWCA with the outstanding leader Trailblazer’s Award. Somehow I found it interesting that she would receive such a prestigious award when most of her life has been promoting the beauty of other women’s naked bodies, seemingly not so concerned with the value of the hopes and dreams of their hearts.

Jesus attracted prostitutes, but not to use them. He saw their longing to be known and loved for who they were, not for what they looked like. He valued them, gave them hope, forgiveness and a restored life.

Tamar and Rahab had both been used by men over many years. Tamar, who had been lied to and tricked by her father-in-law decided to take justice in her own hands and was able to convict him for his wrong. Rahab, living in a godless place with a godless past, believed in the God of the Jews around her and eventually became the Great-grandmother of the great King David.

Other women mentioned in Jesus’ lineage were humble women, those who lived their lives doing the tedious things. In the middle of this boring genealogy we have wonderful stories of God’s grace breaking into shamed women. Ruth, a woman whose husband had died, decided to help out her mother-in-law, who had also lost her husband. She gleaned in the fields of wheat and was noticed by the richest guy in town, who just happened to marry her. She became King David’s grandmother.

Mary, the mother of Jesus was also considered boring by today’s standards, doing the humble things in life that a typical Jewish teenager did – cook meals, wash the laundry, care for younger children, clean house – until the day an angel came to her, saying that she would become the mother of the Messiah. Now this sounds quite exciting until you think of what the village people might have said. “Sure, the Holy Spirit made you pregnant? Really? You think we’re going to believe that, you whore. You know what happens to girls who get pregnant when they’re not married.” Mary was shamed, her life totally disrupted as she was going about her predictable life.

God disrupts our lives as well. We may have a plan, but God’s is usually different – and always better. We all play an important part of a much larger story. Tamar, Ruth, Rahab, and Mary were all outcasts at one time or another, rejected, ridiculed, used, and seemingly forgotten. But God in His amazing mercy brought each of these women into an important part of His Story. He is a specialist at rewarding the humble, raising up the rejected.

Jesus is delighted when each of us does our job faithfully, carefully and humbly. Every repetitive task we perform with gratitude to God is accepted as an offering, an honoring of our Savior. Every diaper we change, each question we answer with kindness, the clients we treat with respect, each meal we prepare, every word of encouragement we speak reflects the love of Jesus.

When we love our husbands, God is pleased. When we forgive and persevere when we would rather leave, God is pleased. He loves faithfulness and will reward it in His time. When we read all the stories of how God loves women, we know that His love for us is the same. Our small stories of humble lives are being worked into His grand story and one day we shall see the whole story and marvel.

Lean on Him. Trust Him.

Love, Mom

Branches and Trees

Page 15 of 20

Clay, Sheep, Servants……

The Tea Cup Story

Throwing Pottery

The Extra Puzzle Piece

A Shared Adventure

More Waffles and Spaghetti

Waffles and Spaghetti

Major & Minor

Joy

A Franciscan Benediction

Family Trees

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