Hard as Rock or Soft as Chenille?

Our kitchen floor is slate: cold stone, hard, completely unforgiving.

We didn't put this flooring in, it came with the house. Daily it informs my household decisions. I buy juice in plastic; I've done away with most of my Pyrex; I prefer wire centerpieces. Drop anything--even Tupperware from the freezer--and it ends in smithereens! No give at all. We are down to two Fiestaware ceramic bowls and I have no one to blame but myself.

When the iphone hit it Sunday, we knew the floor wouldn't give. Maybe that made it easier for me to offer grace. I want to be like Jesus, filled with the Holy Spirit, gentle, kind, good, long-suffering, forgiving. It is a volitional choice, like yielding to traffic at the merge...like taking one for the gipper...like bending at the knees.

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Galatians 5:22-25

For years, I had a gorgeous rug from L.L. Bean atop the slate. It was luxuriously soft, braided chenille in rich, multi-colored hues of blue and green. It was forgiving! Not only did it give a little bounce to dropped breakables but it concealed spillage too. I once dropped a full pot of tomato sauce on it from the stove. Believe me when I tell you, it blended right in, practically improving the variegated opalescence of the fibers.

A whole strawberry smoothie, bags of frozen blueberries, red wine, you name it. That rug absorbed a brutal amount of defacement.

Guests would never have suspected any of our mishaps; they vanished even from our own memories. It turned the other cheek in a sense, as we flipped it for increased life expectancy. When I finally retired that rug it was not due to staining or ragged appearance, but because I thought surely it must be in violation of some health code.

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his love for those who fear him;

¹² as far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

¹³ As a father has compassion on his children,
so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; Psalm 103:11-13

Simon & Garfunkel would rather be a hammer than a nail. I'd rather be a rug than slate. And I am awfully grateful that my Father is too.

Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Luke 6:35-37

Being authentic as Kelly Langston has challenged, I will have to admit that I am way more forgiving, lenient, and merciful to Reid than I am to others. How often do I blame my husband or judge my neighbors as harshly as our slate floor treated that iPhone? No comment. In fact, Reid's disability gives him a "get out of jail free" card on many occasions. Could it be that God our Father treats us all as "special needs" as he gives us second and third and seventh chances?

If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, 'I repent,' forgive him." Luke 17:3-5

Even Netflix has its limits

Some will recall my saga of perpetually lost and found library privileges. Netflix recently revoked our privileges too...or shall I say, "put our account on hold?" Stifled by the stagnation of red envelopes to our mailbox, I called to inquire "pourquoi?" The agent informed me that there is a 6 disk limit per year on "claimed lost" disks. Apparently, they were counting and we'd reached that. (This is why I don't borrow movies from friends-- far too risky.) The customer service agent on the line asked, "Do you know how this happened?" "Oh, girlfriend," I was tempted to ask her, "how long is your shift?"

Here's a lesson in awareness, now that April (and Autism Awareness Month) is over: not everyone needs to know the whole story. I opted for the "play it dumb" approach and was most thankful that she had the authority and grace to reinstate our account. We'll try harder, this time.

What really bothered me, more than their tallying our delinquency was that they didn't inform me we were out of favor. Did they figure I was counting how many disks were scratched beyond repair, returned in an open envelope only to slip into oblivion, dropped into the storm sewer or eaten by the dog? Were they going to send me a pink slip? Apparently not. As forgiving as they are (Netflix was founded when Reed Hastings got fed up with Blockbuster late fees), they do have limits. And not surprisingly, we reached them. I just wish they would have told me that my time was up! Instead they cut me off and waited for me to call and beg for reinstatement.

No one has more mercy than God the Father. Throughout time He has had mercy on wayward humanity, through the Fall, the Flood, the Cross, and one day the Rapture. Yet, certainly in His perfect justice there are also limits. Does He tell us when we've reached them? Send a pink slip in the mail? A bolt of lightning to straighten us up? Or is it up to us to log in and check our status, place a call, prostrate ourselves, return to the prayer closet, fess up?

Maybe sometimes He does announce our status to us. For me right now though, He doesn't have to. I've been counting. It's been more than 6 dyas since I had a bonafide prayer time. He knows that I know, that He knows, that I have been out of touch. The onus is on me to simply make the prayer time, prioritize the Bible study, and care to share.

Sara Groves has a great song, "How Is It Between Us?" that describes the ennui I've been feeling for the last couple weeks. My study circle concluded for summer and although we met to celebrate Purim (as the climax of Esther) and watch One Night with the King, we are "out of the Word," so to speak. That means I am out of the daily disciplines of prayer and study that change the course of my day and enlighten my outlook. God knows it; I know it; now you know it. Amazing the power of accountability and the weakness of our flesh. More amazing is the power in those habits.

He is there waiting, I know, with a fresh word if I would just open it. A new infilling if I would take time to bow. How many days does it take you to notice the stagnation of your spirit...and dial up to complain, "Where are my movies!" "Where's the fruit?"


If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, 'I repent,' forgive him." Luke 17:3-5




Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. James 4:7-9




"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:4-6

A Clean Slate at the Library

Does your public library have a Happy Hour? Countywide, on the last Friday of every month, at every branch, ours does. Alcohol is not served; everyone's just very happy to return late materials with no fines whatsoever, no questions asked, no due dates checked, no snickering.

Thirsty one day, and not at my usual branch, I noticed the sign on their counter. Not to be believed! Could this be? I inquired. Yes, indeed, they would rather have their books back--no matter how late--than leave them missing in action. They waive all fees, even their potential profits from replacement fees. I had incurred upwards of $50 a month before this happy time. This was very good news for me!

My husband jokes that I have lost library privileges in every state in the union, which is not quite true. We haven't moved that much!
What is true, is that I am frequent library user, a horrible procrastinator and an avoider of conflict (Harmony). So, when I have books that are more than a couple days late, I go into avoidance mode feeling I can't show my face at the local branch. I bury my head shamefully in the sand while the fines steadily increase, like a taxi meter headed for the airport, finally exceeding replacement value. Of course, loving books as I do, I eventually own up and pay the exorbitant fines, considering it a good deal compared to the equivalent cost of much shipping and handling at Amazon. The library is certainly a good cause.

Until I learned about Happy Hour! Now, I mark my calendar for the last Friday of every month, anticipating another new grace period, while I search under mattresses and behind furniture for the rogue book or tape. The library has long been my favorite institution, all the moreso now! Between my over-consumption of books and Reid's penchant for stickers and de-constructivism, we have tried the patience of many a librarian.

When we were home schooling I would routinely check-out a stack of 15 or more books. Allie had her own stack; maybe she could carry 8 in those pre-backpack days; and Reid got books then too (not movies). Most of our weekly loot, I had requested online from other branches in order to keep the county employees busy pulling titles at every branch in the system, trucking them across town for my convenience, and flagging them with my name on a special shelf. (This is a commonly available service at most libraries, although not widely publicized.) I was compulsive about gathering resources that correlated with each of our unit studies or whatever curriculum-of-the-month I was using.

If that wasn't enough to rebuff the proverbial Marian Librarian, Reid was infamous for obsessively removing stickers from library property. I didn't think of it as criminal when he was young (neither did they). It just irked him to no end that they obstructed the illustration and text on the covers of books and boxes of CD's and DVD's. When forced to pay $1 a piece, one is quickly aware of the astonished array of stickers they use on one library book. There's the barcode, of course, then the color-coded juvenile tag, genre stickers, branch letters, alphabetical filing tags and sometimes a donor acknowledgement. "Why oh why oh why?" I asked myself many a time, as we'd recreate their placement on the gummed up vinyl, en route to ditch them in the return vault. (Maybe Amazon is better?) In Reid's mind, they all had to come off so he could see the information he cared most about: the production studio and ratings or the author and copyright. For both these reasons, the library was our family's version of Cheers!, a neighborhood place where "everybody knows your name."

I was there yesterday, my slate having been freshly cleaned. A new clerk scanned our selections at the desk. I know she's new because she didn't know Reid or me. They all know us and we know all of them. "It's such a good feeling," as Fred Rogers would chant. So, when there's a new hire, it feels strangely rude not to introduce myself. Yet, to do so, seems just as oddly presumptuous. Why should she should recognize us, yet? In this case, bubbly Joanie walked over to do the honors. Wishing me a hearty, Happy Holiday!! with a two-handed handshake (it's impossible to hug across those wide counters) she intervened, "Have you met Mim?" In short order, we were introduced. I'm not sure Mim will remember my name, but she will remember the title Joanie assigned us, "She's our best customer!" Now I've heard Joanie call other people this, but I must say I swell with pride, just the same. In mock humility, I joked that I was definitely their highest paying customer. Surely, I must be underwriting a renovation or expansion or something they're drafting. At that point, the head librarian chimed in, "yes, see that whole wall over there? It's hers!" So, you see, I have not lost any privileges whatsoever.

Like a flagrant credit card user, I am all the more revered. In fact, they want to increase my credit limit. After Reid destroyed one too many DVD cases, they designed a special system for the Moriarty family. We got our own thick, plain white, vinyl 5-disk case in which to carry disks home and back. This required additional training of all the staff (much of which I did pro bono. They kept the DVD box and artwork encrusted with its priceless (to them) and annoying (to Reid) barcode and inventory stickers; we got the movie. At that juncture, I told them I'd almost rather they revoke our privileges, so Reid would experience the natural consequences of his peeling fetish. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, we don't want that," they cried in unison. "We need the circulation numbers." Apparently, circulation numbers drive their budget. The more titles people check out, the more county money they are allotted to purchase new materials and enhance their collection. Now I see why they love over-users like us.

When I carry a debt at the library, my heart is heavy. I feel banned from my favorite place to browse and choose books. Trapped at home, unable to find my Get Out of Jail Free card (the missing book) I enter a stubborn refusal to pay for something I only intended to borrow. Grounded from a favorite activity, then a paralyzing guilt of neglect and tardiness set in. Chastising myself is depressing and being angry at Reid for his part in it, is not productive. Now, I don't want to over moralize this but, isn't sin just like that?

Happy Hour sets me free! Last time, I was visibly uplifted, walking out to the car with a fresh stack of free books! The parallel hit me with the salt air; Jesus forgives and forgets our iniquity. He gives us privileges back; the right to pray to Him and be heard without obstruction; the carefree feeling of innocence and childlike faith return; the squeaky clean shine of having unrighteousness removed as far as the east is from the west. The only difference is that His happy hour can be daily or hourly, as needed.

Yesterday and the day before, Reid and I were searching, searching, searching for the 3-disc Fraggle Rock set we'd borrowed the day my sins were washed away (November 28). Videos being 7-day rentals, it was due back this Friday, library day. Yikes. Trying to repent from my wayward ways and demonstrate real improvement after a recent reclusive hiatus, I told Reid, "we can only go if you find Fraggle Rock." I was determined to keep short accounts and stay "in the black" this month. I tucked him in saying, "let's ask God to show us where it is. He sees everything and He knows where you left it." We prayed in earnest and turned off his light. I no more than stepped into the hallway as an "aha" popped into my mind--the laundry basket! There it was, buried halfway down. Saved again! Praise God, He wipes away our sins, gives us third and fourth chances AND answers prayer. We returned it today as an even exchange and I have library privileges out the wazoo, thank you very much.


Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.
Psalm 51:1-3


But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. 1 John 1:6-8


When Jesus saw their faith, he said, "Friend, your sins are forgiven."
Luke 5:19-21


"Blessed are those whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered.
Romans 4:6-8

...as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.
Psalm 103:11-13

photo credit: www.imagecache2.allposters.com