Stop the Clock

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

I was watching a football game with my husband the other day, and one team scored a field goal to up the lead. They went ahead just enough that the opponent would need to score more than one touchdown to win. Few minutes remained on the clock, so implying imminent victory, the announcer said, “Nine is a really big number!”

I scratched my head and thought, “Really?” Now, I’m no mathematician, but nine is pretty low on my scale. I mean, it’s not even double digit! I started wondering what other wisdom I might glean from the sport, and I discovered something that could be quite handy: the ability to stop time.

Now, NFL officials don’t actually prevent seconds from ticking away, but they do halt progress of the game periodically. Someone blows a whistle and the teams retreat to the sidelines to rethink their strategies.

I want to stop time.

Imagine how handy that would be. If I’m about to spill spaghetti sauce on my new white shirt, tweet—time out! If my daughter’s about to snatch her little brother’s favorite toy, tweet—time out! If I’m about to miss an important deadline, tweet—time out! Mistakes would be a thing of the past. I’d stop the clock and rethink my strategy as I went along. Writer’s block simply would not exist. I’d just hit pause until play resumed in my head. If only I could stop time!

If everyone had the ability to control time, however, the world would be one big mess. So it’s good that only God can control the clock. Only He can call a time out. Only He holds the whistle. After all, “Whoever obeys his command will come to no harm, and the wise heart will know the proper time and procedure” (Ecclesiastes 8:5). No need to retreat to the sidelines and rethink strategy. The Head Coach knows the game plan.

Jodi Whisenhunt is a 2009 Amy Writing Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Gum Won’t Fix It

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

Just so you know, gum won’t fix a decapitated snowman. Legend has it, on a slushy Christmas Eve, 1986, as two brothers tossed a football in the sleet and snow, Frosty’s distant relative (of the Styrofoam cutout clan) went for the interception and encountered a personal foul. The snowman’s head dropped into the receiver’s hands while the ball slid under the bushes.

Being the responsible teens that they were, the brothers attempted to re-head the snowman with the only adhesive available, chewed up bubble gum. Now, either it was really sticky gum, or it froze quickly in the twenty-eight degree night.

Daylight betrayed the boys’ blunder and exposed their cover-up. When the sun thawed the Bubblicious, the snowman’s head slid down his shoulder and rested on the broomstick in his hand. My husband and brother-in-law, the kids in question, learned then that God “brings hidden things to light” (Job 28:11b NIV), for “He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with him” (Daniel 2:22 NIV).

Christmas morning, instead of tearing into ribboned boxes of cassette tapes and Atari games, the boys led their mom out to the yard. The snowman’s tilted noggin made her giggle. She wrapped her scarf around his neck to secure the gum repair, then stepped back and hugged her boys. Her gift of forgiveness was their most treasured present that year.

An errant pass broke the snowman, but sin, like the deception of hiding a wrong-doing, severs God’s children from the body of Christ. The world’s biggest gumball couldn’t begin to mend such separation.

Fortunately, the Christ child born in a manger two thousand years ago, who knew no sin, took on the sin of the world. He, the Bright and Morning Star, revealed the Truth. He did not conceal our transgressions; however, He washed them all away so that we may sparkle as new-fallen snow.

This Christmas, when you gather with loved ones, sipping hot cocoa and watching flurries flutter, remember to acknowledge your sin to the Father, for He did not blanket our iniquities but forgave the guilt of our sin (Psalm 32:5 NIV).

Jodi Whisenhunt is an Amy Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Some Days the Fish, Some Days the Bait

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

My husband and brother used to fish together. Used to, that is, until one day when the bait nearly hooked the wrong fish.

The two men waded chest-deep into a small stream. My husband held his reel, flipped it back to cast, and heard, “Yeeeow!” He had smacked my brother in the cheek with a bloody chicken liver. Fortunately, the hook did not set. My brother, however, did back upstream another twenty feet.

“‘Come, follow Me,’ Jesus said, ‘and I will make you fishers of men’” (Matthew 4:19 NIV). My husband must have taken that verse literally. I have to wonder, though, if Jesus had told them they’d be the bait, would the disciples so quickly have bitten the hook? It’s easier to tell someone about Jesus with words than it is to live out faith. It’s a lot easier to stand in front of a large crowd and speak than it is to lose an infant daughter, suffer disease, watch your mother die, and proclaim your love for the Lord while maintaining your hope in Him. It’s way harder to smile through pain than to say, “Jesus died for you.”

Bait. When you can be the answer to the question of how a loving God allows bad things to happen, you are the bait.

When men cast lures into the water, they can’t see the fish. They can’t see the fish. When you are in the midst of a trial, you’re often too submerged in murky misery to see what you’re fishing for. In those times, pray God will remove the cloudy me-ness and make apparent those who are missing His message. Find them in their hiding places, like the bass among the branches. They are often hard to spot through the fog of, “I’m fine,” but they hunger for the healing that only Jesus can provide. Sometimes living out faith is the only way to catch and relieve a desperate soul.

Gently reel if you feel a tug. Offer sincerity, or you’ll break the line. Reveal God’s provision. Be the bait, meet the fish’s need, and you will demonstrate that God works all things for the benefit of those who love Him and allow His control.

May it not hurt to be the bait.

Jodi Whisenhunt is an Amy Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

A Box of Chocolate & A Bubble Bath

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

This fall, my oldest child, Kyle, started tenth grade. As a homeschooler, I’m a bit anxious about it. Ok, I’m a lot anxious about it! “Everything should be done in a fitting and orderly way,” according to 1 Corinthians 14:40 (NIV). Paul’s referring to regulations for speaking in tongues. (By the look on my kids’ faces, sometimes they think I’m doing just that!) However, it’s also good advice for teaching. Problem is, I struggle to do anything in a fitting and orderly way. Recently, I carried a basket of clean laundry down the hall where I found something that belonged in my bedroom. I set the basket down and carried the item to my room where, after catching my reflection in the mirror, I stopped to brush my hair. My daughter came in, so I brushed her hair too. She was still in jammies, so I led her back to her room to change. Only when I took her dirty clothes to the laundry did I remember my original task.

I admit I’ve been a bit lax with our homeschool structure in recent years. Lax is an understatement. Let me try unorganized, panicked, disappointed, unstructured, befuddled. Like the laundry incident, distractions during class time often divert our attention. Some have become bad habits, like how, being the teenage boy that he is, Kyle must eat every ten minutes.

My daughter, Chloe, started first grade this year. Sure, I’ve been there, done that, but she has a totally different personality and a completely different learning style than her older brother. She wants to do her schoolwork at 9:00 at night when she’s avoiding bedtime, but still, if the child wants to learn, how can I turn her down?

Adam’s four. His education is not a major issue yet. He’s quite satisfied with number charts and picture books and children’s videos. As I said, though, he is four. He still longs to spend a lot of time on my lap with my eyes and ears tuned toward him. That can make teaching the other two difficult.

So how do I go about accomplishing school in a “fitting and orderly way”? Simple. With a box of chocolate and a bubble bath! I convince my husband to spend some quality time with the kids, or at least keep them from unlocking the door, and I barricade myself in my room. The running water is soothing (and drowns out the squeals and whines on the other side of the door) and allows me to commune with my Father. As I relax, I seek a higher education. I invite Him to “number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12 NIV), and I ask the Lord to arrange our daily schedules and to order our lesson plans. I also pray His hedge of thorns to surround us and prevent the enemy’s distraction.

I’ve also implemented some changes, including removing Kyle from the kitchen. He may take a snack to his room to do assignments, but he cannot come out until the work is done. I don’t think he’ll starve. I allow Chloe flex time. It just can’t delay bedtime. And with cool teaching aids, like a hand-shaped pointer and a fast facts dial, sweet little Adam can direct. I’ve also discovered that dry-erase markers work very well on the glossy ceramic tiles surrounding my kitchen desk. Fun for all!

Now if you’ll excuse me, my bath is ready and a box of chocolate awaits!

Jodi Whisenhunt is a 2009 Amy Writing Award recipient. She and her husband, Richard, homeschool their three children in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com and www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Geckos

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

Geckos. Nope, I’m not referring to a certain insurance company. I’m talking about tiny little lizards that like to frighten me.

“Scared of geckos?” you ask. Yes. Yes, I am. It’s not so much a terrifying fear as much as it is a startling fright.

It all started in the mailbox. I opened the door, reached in and grabbed. Something jumped onto my hand, ran across and skittered down the bricks. I tossed the envelopes high in the air and let out an “Eek!” Cautiously inspecting each parcel, I retrieved the mail and hurried back inside. The next day, I opened the mailbox and the guardian of the goods stood his ground, daring me to take his letters. I guess he was expecting a fresh shipment of crickets.

Another time, I glanced up through the window above my front door, through which the porch light illuminates the foyer, and noticed a gecko lying in wait for a late night snack. I watched him inch closer, closer to the smorgasbord of flying delicacies. He’d scurry a bit one way or the other, seeking a better vantage point, but his attempts were futile. He’d never taste those beetles, moths and mayflies, because he was on the ceiling inside my house. You think I slept very well that night? He was gone by morning—but to where?

Now a family of three geckos ambushes me whenever I open the storm door. Recently, as my son stepped out, all three rushed in. One climbed straight into a laundry basket. Another dropped his flopping tail and got stuck in a cobweb, and the other stopped still on the door frame. If I’d let the door close, he’d have been squished. Fortunately for them (and for me), my teenager came to the rescue.

I do appreciate these little guys, and I know they will not harm me. In fact, they get rid of lots of pests. I credit them for the reduction in wolf spiders this year—thank you, thank you, thank you, geckos! I suppose it’s a good reminder to me that God is in control, even in the small things I might normally overlook. These geckos keep jumping out at me, sometimes literally, and forcing me to notice and be grateful “that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him” (Romans 10:9, NIV).

Jodi Whisenhunt is a 2009 Amy Writing Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

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