Insight on being a parent

Papa has said to be a certain kind of parent. To be cognizant that you must impart certain things in your kids; to not spoil them by neglecting to teach them that Papa is Provider and nurturer; to believe Him about these important truths that they must begin to know early in years. If you fail to impart wisdom in your kids, they are set up to learn it all the hard way. And they reach out to you in adulthood and demand they have their way via, well, you. You have the money now, so why not?

Because we are not Provider. We depend on Papa for it all. No matter how much money happens to be in our possession.

This is the hard part of being a parent of an adult child. We must sit on our hands and let them flail until they realize Papa is near, and know for themselves that He loves them so deeply.

I wonder about what kids are really like at heart as young adults. How much impartation really sticks with them. How much is learned by hard knocks, and how much they believed of what they were taught. They believe what we believed from the heart. We pass only our hearts along. If that much.

We will soon move away and leave our 30 year old son to himself. He is well trained, but loathe to be on his own. He has had a couple of near death experiences; one was his own fault. He has almost been married. He's a father. He plays computer games and is antisocial for the most part. He has chosen not to be educated formerly. He must reap what he's sown. He won't move out. And it's time for us to go.

My mother experienced the same thing with one son. But she and dad were mostly absent emotionally from us. It's no surprise that they lost the son that was spoilt. That I would have the same experience is unacceptable. As parents, we knew Papa at a young age and read everything we could get our hands on to make sure we did right by our kids. Maybe it happened because he is adopted.

I have pondered the effects of society on our kids. Our son is just like the local boys. We live in the lowest rating state in the US for education. Yet its people believe they are superior to everyone else. That Jesus will return first to Hawaii. No need to know the Word, to apply oneself. Not something I ever taught my kids. But I have a 2nd child, a daughter, seven years younger, who got out of here at age 18, and whose change in environment has made a huge difference in her outlook. She grew up with values she doesn't remember having been taught. She hates the young men of this place, for they are childish and mean. Or else they are legalistic and have deep issues and outbursts they cannot explain. It is an Asian culture (85%), with a growing resentment of the mainlanders who have "stolen" their island. Yikes. It's time to move. Fifteen years is long enough. I'm ready to go. To leave my son to himself, to the culture he has embraced, though its people will never embrace him. It's matriarchal and haughty, and very tribal. The foolishness never ends. I'm weary of it.

I'm a mainland parent, a first generation believer in Papa's ways. There is no place for me here. I had ministry from 1996 to about 2003. I brought in what I could. They tasted it, but mostly, they spit it out. I'm at a place of wiping my feet and moving on. My part is done. I look forward to getting back to a healthy culture, to making friends and starting over. Papa, take us to Bellevue. Adam has to grow up. He will when we're gone. I'm grateful I don't have to see it happen.

Water and Love

Without love, nothings gets done the right way. Nothing lasts. It's easy to think, well, yeah, I know, I know, I've heard it a million times. But one can take a lifetime to simply learn how to BE while loving continuously. No stopping for breaks, for attitudes, for anger, for hostility coming at you. Love never stops. It is eternal.

But sometimes I don't feel like, nor remember to love. What's that all about? Why can't I remember to love? Why do I stop?

Ah. Love is Papa's constant. When we grow weary, we must refresh and refill and regenerate our spirits, so that love can continue its good work in us.

This has been the ongoing lesson in my Christian life of 37 years. I haven't tried to identify this way of Papa's. I take for granted that we all know to do this. To allow ourselves time to stop and refill, so we can go again.

We refill with Heaven's water that anoints, refreshes and endows wisdom for the day. Holy Spirit fills us with His freshness daily. Jesus' Word is our food. Communion needs to happen. Bread and wine await fresh partaking. I wonder how Heaven will be about refreshing.

I'm deep in intense counseling right now. It wears me out to find myself teaching basic things to someone who behaves as if he'd been in a coma for 40 years and is suddenly awake. I hope it all sticks :) Everything I say must be responded to with a yes, I believe, for it to penetrate. So simply we are made! Believe, or not believe in what is true; what Papa has revealed in His Word is priceless to the everyday of this short, precious life.

Water and Love. Constant washing, no need to attend a retreat, but retreat daily. The more you do it, the more it will feel like an awesome retreat. I love those with other people. Who knew it would happen in my own living room?

As I ponder the wonder of Papa's presence on me, my heart goes to the young man down the hall. I wonder how to get through. He's another one who managed to slide by all that is wonderful that has passed through this house. When he finally encounters Papa, he'll have a long way to go traveling inward in Papa. I wish I was the one to take him there. Papa, cover him the way only You know how :)

Impossible :)

Lately, things have come up that tear me up inside out in first response. I wonder if I've becoming more quickened to the call of intercessory prayer in this house of prayer. I'm alarmed more easily and I have to stop what I'm doing and pray for a long time for the distress at hand. I must deal with it. Now. My heart feels compressed. The situation is impossible.

The word "impossible" causes me to jump for joy. Papa loves answering the most impossible prayers, and my faith leaps. I just need to remember "impossible" and define the new event as such. Then my heart rests and faith takes over.

Spiritual Father

It is so heavy on my heart how grateful I am to have a spiritual father, finally, in my 50s. Bill Johnson of Bethel Church in Redding, California is my spiritual father. He doesn't know me personally, but he's shared his heart so thoroughly, leads a life that I so would like to mimic, and I realize that with all the mentors from whom I've gained wisdom, Bill is really the only one whose heart has been laid bare, and I like what I see. Bill isn't a perfect man, he's quite human. But as an example of a godly man, a father, an example of a good husband, well, I wish I'd known him all my life. In Heaven, this void will be gone forever. Thank You, Papa, for Bill :)

Diet Changes

Dreaming after Christmas

Related

In the in-between time, I've been connecting family dots. I do genealogy, continuing ongoing research; a project 80 years long to date.

When typing in my database birth and death dates, I can rush past long lives in a few seconds. They fit in a cubicle. I copy and paste excerpts from biographies, census dates and those special ones who made the obscure count for something. We know being famous is overrated. We're all in that famous category in Heaven. Papa made each one of us significant and alive with purpose. But on earth, it takes a famous person to make the rest count.

In the US, we are all related to a few immigrants sharing a taste for freedom. Genealogy is the number one hobby in the world now. I wonder why. For me, it's fun to take my family and see how we all connect. Each family is unique in bloodlines. We have DNA testing for the very curious. It sure quiets disputes and rumors.

In 2010, DNA answered many questions in my Graves line. Elvis is my cousin. For me, it makes me want to take a closer look at him as a person. He also serves as another lead, a stepping stone in a huge pond, down the ancestry line. And he looks a lot like my daughter :)

Agnes Sanford is also my cousin. I first recognized her by the familiarity of her writings. I wanted to get a good look at her and quickly found a web pic. Wow. She looks just like me. I traced her line no further than her mother and found the Graves name. I'm getting good at recognizing facial structures. A Graves reunion of 300 relatives showed me stark, expressive commonalities over the years. Agnes is so fun to be related to. She began the inner healing movement in the 60s. I've been involved heavily in it from 2000 to present. Everything we do in Christendom is based in her work, from Cleansing Stream to Elijah House to Bethel's ministry in Redding, to Vineyard Christian Fellowships, and on it goes globally. Agnes was healed one day and was never the same.

Whatever draws our interest, Papa takes us deep into good things. Wisdom is gained and we see our uniqueness and Papa's orchestration in granting life, an incomprehensible story.

For this work, I've laid aside the book I so want to finish writing. I'm drawn to the revelation of secrets and Papa's inner workings. I know I need to take a break from the genealogy and hunker down, Papa style, and write with Him the ending of MT2. There is nothing more refreshing than writing this way.