cupcakes and relationship advice

Sometimes I have conversations with God that go something like this:

God: Hey how bout you become friends w that girl and give her advice about her relationship w her boyfriend?

Me: No thank you.......Really Lord? 

God: Yep. 

Me: So the fact that I've never had a boyfriend makes me perfect for this, right? (I'm sarcastic sometimes)

God: Yes it does. 

Me: This is crazy. 

God: I can see how it'd looks that way to you. But remember this important fact, we've been together for over 30 years. 

Me: That’s true but it's only because You're perfect. 

God: I know. And I can't dwell in unholiness, remember?

Me: Ya. You have taught me a lot about loyalty, trust, honesty, and true love. You've been and will always be all of those things and more to me. 

God: Yes indeed. I will always be with you, even while you're talking to that woman about her marriage and to that other woman about parenting. 

Me: This makes no sense to me but here I go. Please help me to sound sincere without any trace of hurtful judgement or conceit. 

God: I will be with you always. 

A few moments later…

God: How bout you make some cupcakes for your coworkers?

Me: What? Really? I don't even like cupcakes. They don't taste good to me and if I ever take a bite I feel sick from all the sugar. 

God: Bake them anyway. 

Me: So let me get this straight, You're asking me to advice people about their love lives and make them desserts? Neither of which I have any personal experience or expertise in?

God: You’re quick, you're very quick. (He's sarcastic sometimes too.)

Me: Oh my word Lord, here goes nothin!

God: I will be with you always.

He is a change-your-life amazing kid

Happy Birthday to one of my favorite boys is all the world! I got to hold him just days after he was born and he still lets me hold him and squeeze him whenever we are together. He is always ready to play and is quick to be encouraging, kind, and silly. Though he is young, he has been through some really scary and hard things in his life. But he knows deep in his heart that his Redeemer lives because he has called out to God to help him and he has felt the hand of Jesus holding his. He has wisdom and insight far beyond his 7 years and, at the same time, he has the beautiful innocence of a child, a WILD imagination, and an amazing sense of humor.

So, Hudson Joseph Hahn, happiest of birthdays to YOU! I thank my God every time I think of you and I pray that Jesus will continue to show people His love through you. I can't wait to see you and do something silly together!

I love you so very much Hudson!

Love,
Beffy

Read it.

I love a good book. You know, the kind that surprises you by how gripping it is from the first page to the last. The kind that sticks, sinks deep, and changes you for the better. This kind of book propels me forward and awakens my mind to both new ideas and ancient truths. I love the feeling of satisfaction that comes with completing such a book. Shakespearean lines come bubbling out of me like "parting is such sweet sorrow" and "it is better to have read and finished than to have never read at all" Ok, I changed that second one slightly. (I get a little dramatic to say the least.)

My favorite books are the ones that make me cry tears of praise to my heavenly Father. When I read a book and start singing or crying, I know I'm reading a book written by someone who knows the same Jesus that I know. I know the author has accepted the same love and grace that I have. I recognize Jesus in him/her and it never fails to make my heart soar. He's real. Jesus is real. He's living and active and working in the lives of people all over the world. 

Today I finished the book that prompted this post. It is entitled Gospel Patrons: People Whose Generosity Changed The World by John Rinehart. Read it. I know you'll love it.

Psalms

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. 

He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.

He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 

Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

My Psalm

The Lord is my provider. I shall not be in want.

He leads me through the valley of the shadow of singleness. He never leaves me or forsakes me. 

He restores my soul.

With my family and friends, He comforts and upholds me.

Through the love and admiration of children, He makes sense of my life.

His unmerited favor, faithfulness, sovereignty, and love give me atonement and eternal salvation.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Open letter to fathers who say they will lock their teenage daughters up or will greet a boy at the door with a shotgun.

Please stop saying that. It makes you sound like a coward and a fool. Neither of which you are.

Also, I don't like it. Here's why:


1. You're exaggerating. You don't actually want your daughter to be locked away in a homemade prison.

2. You don't actually plan on shooting anyone.

3. It's hypocritical for a father to say that all men are untrustworthy. If you want your daughter to trust you, don't tell her all males shouldn't be trusted.

4. You don't really want your daughter to be single her whole life. You want her to get married and have grandchildren that you can tell all your amazing stories to.

What you actually want is for your daughter to be treated with respect and admiration. What you want is for her to have healthy, mature relationships. You even want her to have sex and enjoy it. You want her to have wisdom, self-worth, and confidence in all areas of her life.

5. You are her role model for how a woman should be treated. Loving her mom is the single loudest and most direct message you can send. Louder than any lecture and more effective than aiming a shotgun at any boy.

6. Teach and train. Don't hide behind empty threats and hollow words. Teach her what a good man is so she can distinguish between trash and treasure in a heartbeat. Teach her that there are men in the world who have been taught by their fathers how to be honorable. Train her to recognize and accept protection and love, not how to live in fear of what men will do to her.

7. Don't expect her to disobey and please don't expect her to fail. Don't forbid her from talking to boys and then give her birth control.

8. Be honest about some of your fears. Of course, you don't want her to get hurt or abused! Of course, you want her to be protected from harm! These are the qualities daughters cherish in their fathers. Don't deny your fatherly instinct to protect. Teach your daughter where that instinct comes from and who you turn to when you are afraid. We are all vulnerable in this world. Being locked in rooms guarded by men with guns doesn't change that fact.

On behalf of daughters everywhere, thank you for your  kind attention to this matter.

Am I supposed to love or hate disabilities?

Disabilities cause pain and I hate pain. Pain hurts and causes me to feel very uncomfortable and motivates me to go to great lengths to seek out ways to get rid of it. This line of thinking has caused me to dig deeper into the abyss that is my relationship with disabilities. Do I love or hate disabilities? And do I have to choose?

I love how someone with Down syndrome can cross social and cultural barriers to convey the love of God to people that would have absolutely refused to listen to anyone else. How can I hate something that produces miracles?

I hate how someone with autism can have such difficulty with touch that he can't accept a hug from his own mother or have such difficulty with speech that she can't say 'dada'. How can I love something that produces rejection?

I love how someone with cerebral palsy can urge entire communities and even nations to be more physically fit, to move in any way they can, and to focus not on limitations but on possibilities. How can I hate something that produces hope?

I hate how someone with an intellectual disability can have an adverse reaction to something and, not only ruin the day for everyone, but ruin the experience forever for everyone around him. How can I love something that produces deep seeded pain and resentment?

I love how someone with multiple disabilities can inspire the creation of an entire organization that is designed to bring out and celebrate the champion in her. How can I hate something that produced the special Olympics?

I hate how someone with a seizure disorder can be so controlled by the eminence of another convulsion and so uncertain of how the next seizure will affect her that she feels like a prisoner in her own body. How can I love something that produces so much fear?

So do I hate disabilities? When I see and experience the excruciatingly loud intense pain they cause, I really really do. In those moments of wanting to cover my ears, yell, and/or rock in a corner, I would choose to take away everyone's disabilities. In a heartbeat. In my human foolishness, I would. I'd also make my legs thinner, improve my social skills, and give myself a sense of direction (I get lost...a lot) but those are different subjects. Or are they the same? If I had a magic wand and my own human wisdom the only guarantee is that I'd make everything worse. Just like King Solomon. 

The most beautiful miracle is that sometimes disabilities are what show me the face of God. His very nature and character of Love and His unmerited favor shine through in our most unlikely characteristics. 

Having a terrible sense of direction has caused me to rely on God for direction. He literally directs my paths and has made Proverbs 3:5&6 come alive in my life on a daily basis.

Turns out I don't have to declare love or hate for disabilities or for pain because what I have seen as evil, God has redeemed and used for good. What a relief! Hallelujah! 

Recognized

It happened again this weekend. I was recognized by a complete stranger, not for who I am, but for who my parents are.

For most of my life I have been irritated by this situation. I felt like people didn't know who I was, they just assumed they knew me because they knew my parents. I wasn't seen as me but as my parents' daughter. If my face wasn't recognized, my last name would be. For many years I would introduce myself just by my first name and only say my last name if someone specifically asked. (I still find myself doing that but now I think it's because Beth is easier to remember than Warkentin.)

I used to think this recognition thing would only happen in my hometown where my parents are well known. Boy was I wrong.

About 15 years ago, I was sitting in the airport terminal waiting for my flight out of LAX to Fresno when a couple, who looked about my parents'  age, approached me and said those fateful words, "Excuse us but are you Don and Janet's daughter?"

"Uh, yes..." I said very hesitantly, "Who are you?"

"Oh we're (names?). We went to high school with your parents! We knew they got married. We didn't know if they had kids or how old you would be but you look just like them so we were sure you were their daughter!" said the wife. I was too shocked to even hear their names.

"Really?!?! You could tell that from all the way across the terminal?!" I exclaimed.

"Well, ya. We were pretty sure but we looked at the passenger list to double check.  He's a pilot," she explained, pointing to her husband, "so he went over to the desk at the gate and glanced at the list. We saw you're last name and then we knew for sure!"

I was stunned. Absolutely stunned that two strangers, who didn't even know I had been born, could spot me from across a crowded airport and identify me as my parents' daughter. Incredible. I knew then that there was no denying it, I look just like them. I may as well embrace it.

In January I cut 8 inches off my hair and for the first time since infancy my hair was shorter than my mom's. Right after I got my hair cut, I went to my parents' house and was sitting across the table from my dad when he suddenly looked up from the newspaper and said, "You're beautiful." This statement immediately made me suspicious because all my life he has made it a point to compliment my character instead of my appearance. Then it hit me. I squinted my eyes, tilted my head, and said accusingly, "I look just like mom, don't I?" Yep. Spitting image. I could feel it. I wasn't upset though. I just laughed and smiled.

I've been recognized by strangers many times since that day in the airport and each time I'm surprised by it. But each time I'm able to embrace it a little more and understand a little more deeply than it's a gift to have such an amazing heritage. I'm happy to be a Warkentin and am proud to be known as Don and Janet's daughter.

Wow. I must be growing up. ;)