The Woman at the Well

I went to our women's retreat this past spring and the theme was "The Woman at the Well." One of my friends wrote about her preparation for this retreat by reading the passage and meditating on it. Something that she got from this time painted a clearer picture for me. I wanted to share it with you.

The story comes from the book of John, Chapter 4:1-26. Jesus was traveling through Samaria and stopped at a well. First of all, for Jesus, a Jew, to be traveling through Samaria was a big deal. The Jews hated the Samaritans because they were essentially "half breeds." Jesus was not only passing through, but stopped at the well and talked to a Samaritan woman there. He asked her for a drink of water. Her response, "You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?" Then Jesus answered, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water."


Jesus already knew about this adulterous woman's past, but He wanted to build a relationship with this woman to establish trust, and THEN reveal who He was. Instead of starting off with how He could save her, He asks something of her. He knew how important water was for her to live. They both knew that she needed water on a regular basis to be healthy. That is why Christ used water as an analogy to describe His "living water" which is salvation and life by His Spirit.

Could He be asking us for us to give Him the "water" that we drink to try and sustain life, even our spiritual lives? What are those things, you ask? Whatever we do to survive, to make life work, whether we know God or not. Some things work for a time, but then fail us, so we find something else. You're familiar with this, I'm sure! This was the story with the Samaritan woman. She was an adulterer, and had 5 husbands. It was not working for her, it was not giving her life. I believe the Lord was asking her for those broken relationships, saying, "Give me those things that you try to satisfy your thirst and I will give you what you're REALLY looking for-life, freedom!"

It's amazing, even though I've been a Christian for a long time, I still miss this all the time. Although we only need to receive this "living water" one time, we often need to go back to the well in order for us to hear Jesus asking us for a drink. This reminds us that we already have the "living water," so we don't have to stay stuck in the old ways of quenching our thirst which we just do out of habit. So, I'm asking God, "take me back to the well!"

I'm Baaack!!

I know I've been disappointing so many in my fan club with my lack of blogs this summer. I blog in my head all the time, because I can do that without interruption. So, eventually I will get all my thoughts written out.

Between G.U.P.Y., traveling to Mexico for a week, family vacations to the beach, having the kids home all day every day, grumpy baby stages, getting one ready for kindergarten, the other two for pre-school, our fridge dying on us, then our replacement fridge having issues, having my phone and some money stolen, dealing with our invisible backyard fence builder and having to get an emergency appendectomy, we've had a pretty good summer. Those are also the reasons I have not had the energy nor time to devote to my blog or others, for that matter (so sorry, friends).

It has been a summer full of different circumstances, some good, some bad. Either way, the underlining truth that has kept my perspective hopeful and my heart content is the fact that God loooves me. I mean, He really and trully loves me, Diane Shady Benbow! (He loves you, too, but that's for you to discover--how much!!!) This truth has transformed my life this summer and continues to do so. It feels like our family is being hit with a lot of challenges and changes, all at once. I have questioned God and His timing, but ultimately, I am assured that if He loooves me and He's the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords, then I don't have a THING to worry about. Satan can mess with us all he wants, but he can never take God's love from us! That, in itself, is reason to keep on keeping on. I will write soon, I promise.

I'm Changing my Name!

For the past week or so I've heard, "Mama" thousands of times. Not in a happy voice, but a whiny voice with arms lifted up. Another word that's been uttered too many times is "Bupa," which translates to "up." I don't know what happened to my sweet, laid-back little boy. We went to the beach two weeks ago and someone switched him out with this whiny, needy, temper tantrum throwing, mama name-calling little guy.

One night last week when all the kids were down, except Jacob, who was still screaming in his bed, I just gave up. I felt so out of control and overwhelmed. I felt a gentle tug from my Father to spend some time with Him, which I did. The scripture that came to my mind for this experience was from James 1. Sometimes I want to rip this page out of my Bible or clock the next "James" that comes my way. But, really, I need to be reminded of this scripture all the time. "Consider it pure joy whenever you face trials of many kinds."

Who WANTS to face trials??? Of course we don't want to, necessarily, but that's the point. It's in our weakest moments that we cry out for help and God is waiting to use the experience for our benefit. He uses it to help us persevere through His strength, which builds character and character builds maturity. I definitely want to grow in maturity in Christ, so if that means "suffering," then bring it on! That's what Paul says, "when I am weak, then You are strong (in me)." This means that when I am at a loss and I look to Christ for help and allow His strength to work through me, then WOW!

"I can do all things THROUGH CHRIST who strengthens me..." Philippians 4:13. The key point being "through Christ" and not "all things," because if we are doing things through Christ, then we would be doing all the right things. So, I can deal with hearing, "Mama!!!" 1,000 times a day and love my little "monster" through Christ's strength, and His alone. After my change of heart, I've decided not to change my name, I actually now enjoy it.

Wounded Soldiers

I clean a Barber Shop once a week. I know the thought of being around hair grosses some people out, but what I experienced Monday morning before 7:00 AM was much worse than hair! I usually empty the trash cans first. I was in the kitchen emptying the big can when I saw it....staring at me with one of it's beady eyes, body limp. I positioned the big can in front of poor Mickey, so I would not have to feel guilty about his demise all morning.

As I took the trash outside, I lifted the lid of the big can and a very large "indestructible" gawked at me with his antennae and then scurried under some paper and bottles, out of sight. Thank goodness. I returned to the kitchen to find yet another very large roach scurry across the floor. What in the world???? Do I get paid enough to encounter such critters?

That was not the end of it! Later, I was vacuuming and I saw friend #3 and he didn't scurry away, but challenged me to a fight. Out of pure panic that he just might attack, I whacked him with the end of the vacuum. Not once, not twice, but three times, until I saw some proof that he was dead.

I couldn't clean him up then, I would need a whole roll of paper towels and time to prepare myself (BTW, did I ever tell you that I grew up in Africa? land of poisonous snakes, scorpions, lizards, giant spiders and evil monkeys? Yeah, and I'm afraid of a roach...). Later I came back with the wad of paper towels to find a trail of guts, but no roach. THAT, my friends, is why I'm scared of roaches, they're indestructible. I saw him hobble across the floor on his good side. I saluted him and let him go. Kudos to Mr. Roach for surviving the crazy whacking giant. I hope you died in peace, wherever that was.

"Mommy, I had a bad dream..."

Eliza woke me up at 4:30 to tell me this. She said that she dreamed that Psalter was using the potty and flushed the toilet. Psalter flushed down the toilet as well. Eliza cried and cried. I had heard her moaning and was about to go check on her, but was too tired to move, that's when she came in. She told me that after she woke up from her dream she walked over to Psalter's bed to touch her and make sure she was there. Eliza said, "I love my sister, I was scared something happened to her..."

Isn't that just so precious? Not the dream, but the fact that she went to make sure that Psalter was there. It's so comforting to see that even though they bicker and fuss often, they really do love each other. I'm so glad that they will always have a friend and a playmate in each other. Now I can use this nightmare as proof when they ARE fussin' at each other, that they are sisters that love and care for one another.

My Friend LeeDee

Eliza asked me the other night to tell her the story about LeeDee again. This thrilled me because I had told her about LeeDee to teach her about true thankfulness. When we lived in the "bush" of Burkina Faso, we lived a mile up on a hill from the village of Ouarokoye (water-coy).

Mom is an RN, so she had a back door clinic. People walked for miles to get medicine and have their wounds treated. LeeDee was one of these. She actually is slightly crippled. In their culture, she is considered almost worthless because she cannot do all of the work that women there do. She was able to marry and have a few children, but she was really mistreated by her husband and others because of her crippled legs. She became a Christian, so the church people really started to support her, almost as a widow status.

She would often get ulcers on her legs and feet, from using her crutches to walk and poor hygiene. She would walk the mile up our hill, over the rugged rock driveway, sometimes shoeless, to get these ulcers treated. Sometimes she had a baby on her back. She always came up with a smile, greeting us in the Lord.

We would save our tin cans and give these to her each time she came up. I wish you could experience her joy over this. She would start singing/spitting through her buck teeth smile and dance. She would say, "Don Beni budica" over and over which means, "thank you to God." One time we gave her a brand new shiny metal bucket. She about fainted with excitement and joy.

What a precious gift LeeDee was and still is to me. When I covet something someone else has, I remember her joy over some tin cans and a metal bucket. It keeps "stuff" in perspective for me. I really don't need anything! Most of the world lives without 99% of what is in my house, so I can sure live without the "thing" I think I HAVE to have. Thanks, LeeDee!

"Poop Happens"

That's the only way to describe this morning. Marshall is gone for the week, so I'm single-mommin' it for awhile. I was already tired from Jacob and Eliza waking up several times last night and for good at 6:00 this morning. So, I was a little grumpy already.

I got everyone dressed and ready for school, was ready to walk out the door on time, no less. Psalter has been potty training herself, which is awesome. She pooped on the big potty and some of it was left over at the top of the bowl--left some tracks. It smelled the whole house, but I wasn't going to stand there and wait for the tank to fill up for the fourth time.

I was calling them to come to the door, Jacob's shirt was all wet. Where did he get that from? Maybe he's just really drooling from his teething. I didn't have time to change him. We continue to the car, fighting about headbands, not enough time for braids and we forgot my backpack, etc. I get Jacob in his seat and grab his arms to buckle his harness. His sleeve is soaked, I grab his hand and take a look, "NO, it can't be..." Yes, it was, it was poop. All over his hand and some on his face. No joke! He was sampling some of Psalter's poop. I can just visualize him sloshing around in the toilet and squealing with delight as he squeezed the poop through his hands. I guess some day I'll really laugh about this. Marshall sure did when I called him to tell him.... He was just glad he wasn't here to clean it up. :) So that was the start to my day, how 'bout yours?