I just read a quote by Martin Luther King Jr. that has me all stirred up inside:
"Cowardice asks the question, 'Is it safe?'
Expediency asks the question, 'Is it politic?'
Vanity asks the question, 'Is it popular?'
But, conscience asks the question, 'Is it right?'
And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but one must take it because one's conscience tells one that it is right."
As a woman who is both a wife and a mother, I deal with these questions all the time - especially where my children are concerned. I struggle with over-protecting the five blessings God has given me. I've learned that protection and over-protection are separated by a very grey line.
Many conscientious parents cross that line into over-protection without even knowing it. I know I found (and still find at times) myself on the other side of that line. What happens when we over-protect is we raise kids who ask that first question more than they ask the last question.
We live in a world that is harshly opposed to many values that Christians hold dear. The sanctity of life at every stage and God's design for marriage are two examples. The truth is that standing up for our beliefs is seldom safe, politic (shrewdly practical) , or popular. But in order to stand firm we will need courage and conviction.
The truth is, courage and conviction are only strengthened when practiced. Courage is developed on the battlefields of life. Conviction is developed in the face of temptation. In order to raise brave kids, they have to face these challenges. We have to allow them to face these challenges.
Knowing when a child is ready is the hard part of this equation. I would never put a child in harm's way in order to test his bravery. But my children will never be courageous unless they face fear and walk forward through it.
God has planted a conscience in our hearts and that is His Holy Spirit. I believe we must teach our children at an early age to pray about their decisions and trust that God will prompt them to do what's right. Then, sometimes, we must stand back and allow our kids to do something that's not completely safe, not wisely practical and not popular - in order to do what's right.
Very importantly, we should especially allow them to follow their conscience now, while they are still under our protection, so we can have their back when things get tough.
I'm for raising a generation of Davids, who will face the giants when all others quake in fear!
In His Love,
Glynnis
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
My devotion today on P31 or Crosswalk, speaks to the heart of many of my frustrations - being rejected. While my devotion speaks about being rejected by others, I find that there's another type of rejection that is just as defeating - that's the rejection I give myself.
I've had a few ongoing goals for let's say ... uummm ... about 15 years. Mainly the ongoing goals deal with losing weight and getting in shape. Every time I get the gumption to get serious about those goals, something interrupts my plan. Maybe it's a vacation or a holiday. It might be my husband's schedule, or a child's needs.
Then that rejection starts coming from within -
You don't have what it takes to lose those 20 pounds. You'll never be able to do a push up. Your schedule is too busy. Why even bother?
I hate that rejection, and so it seems easier to not even try. Because I know it's sitting out there just waiting, hiding behind that all-you-can eat pizza buffet, or a venti mocha. Or I find it in a work out class when I watch other women can do what I can't. I know the thoughts that will follow.
But I'm not ready to give up!
Even as I type these words, the answer comes to me. I can't do it alone. I wish I could, because I'm just that way - little miss independent. But the truth is, I'm better with a friend.
Perhaps that's the answer for dealing with any rejection. Having someone by my side, who understands why these challenges are so difficult, makes all the difference. So perhaps, instead of having the weight loss, or getting in shape as my primary goal, I should be focusing on finding a friend to face things with.
I don't know if that helps you today, but it sure helps me.
In His Love,
Glynnis
I've had a few ongoing goals for let's say ... uummm ... about 15 years. Mainly the ongoing goals deal with losing weight and getting in shape. Every time I get the gumption to get serious about those goals, something interrupts my plan. Maybe it's a vacation or a holiday. It might be my husband's schedule, or a child's needs.
Then that rejection starts coming from within -
You don't have what it takes to lose those 20 pounds. You'll never be able to do a push up. Your schedule is too busy. Why even bother?
I hate that rejection, and so it seems easier to not even try. Because I know it's sitting out there just waiting, hiding behind that all-you-can eat pizza buffet, or a venti mocha. Or I find it in a work out class when I watch other women can do what I can't. I know the thoughts that will follow.
But I'm not ready to give up!
Even as I type these words, the answer comes to me. I can't do it alone. I wish I could, because I'm just that way - little miss independent. But the truth is, I'm better with a friend.
Perhaps that's the answer for dealing with any rejection. Having someone by my side, who understands why these challenges are so difficult, makes all the difference. So perhaps, instead of having the weight loss, or getting in shape as my primary goal, I should be focusing on finding a friend to face things with.
I don't know if that helps you today, but it sure helps me.
In His Love,
Glynnis
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Yesterday I shared the amazing story of my father coming to Christ at the invitation of my son Dylan. Today I'd like to tell you a little bit more of the story.
Dylan has always been one of those kids with an opinion. He has a heightened sense of justice, which often causes him to see things in black and white. Here's an example of how his personality revealed itself even at an early age.
Eight years ago, when Dylan was seven, we lived across country from my parents, and I recorded a conversation we had in the car. Dylan had earned excellent grades on his report card and we started talking about what he would be when he grew up. He wanted to be an architect. But here's what he said after that:
"But I'm going to be something before I'm an architect, I'm going to be a missionary. I'm already a missionary! I'm a missionary to Grandpa. I want to send Grandpa a Bible."
I asked him which Bible. Dylan said, "The one I take to church every week." I said I thought it would be a good idea, and it would also be good when we get back to Phoenix for Dylan to spend time with Grandpa and tell him little bits about Jesus. To which Dylan replied in a surprised, and dramatic voice, "Little bits?!" Little bits?! A missionary wouldn't tell little bits about Jesus to someone!"
We returned to Phoenix, and Dylan's witness of being faithful in attending church, loving Jesus, and in our praying for Grandpa never diminished. Every night my husband and I prayed (and still do) with our children as we tuck them into bed, and every night, we prayed for my father to come to know Jesus.
Flash forward five years. Dylan is sitting beside his dying grandfather's bedside. I'll never know exactly what Dylan was thinking. He'd prayed every night for Grandpa his entire life, so tonight was no different. Only this time the stakes were higher.
With the boldness of a child, he invited his grandpa to accept Jesus. Dylan pleaded with him in fact. And at the invitation of a precious child, my father, Richard Edward Owens, nodded yes to the most important decision of his eternity.
I am so thankful Dylan was taught to pray. Not only by us, but by the many children's ministry leaders who have helped him grow in his faith. I think of my friends Dean and Becky Smyth and so many others who volunteered to help teach children's church and Sunday School at Bethany Presbyterian when Dylan was just a toddler. I think of my friends at Southbrook in Charlotte, and my friends now at the Vineyard, like Jody Kingston and Mike Denk who work full time teaching kids what it means to be an extraordinary follower of Christ. I wish I could go back and hug each one of you who sacrificed an hour to teach my son how to pray. Look what happened because of your faithfulness.
So, let me wrap this up by telling you what Dylan said at the graveside service. My father was a Korean War veteran, and the only service we had for him was at the cemetery, and he received full honors. We did have a pastor say a few words, and he asked if anyone wanted to say anything. After a moment of awkward silence, Dylan stood up and walked forward. He was shaking, and obviously struggling to hold back tears, as he recounted the night he sat by Grandpa's bedside. Dylan said something like this, "I told him, 'Grandpa, if you don't accept Jesus before you die, you're going to hell.'"
Right there at the grave site I actually had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Of course it wasn't funny. But in the stress of the moment, I laughed at my own misinterpretation of how that night went. I imagined a gentle invitation. Where had my son come up with that? We had NEVER attended a church with teachings that direct. But on the other hand, we had never hid the truth either. Dylan cut to the bottom line.
Children can reach people we never can. Children pass sweetly through defensiveness and pride. They understand messing up, because they mess up a lot. They are non-threatening. But they are mighty and effective warriors for Jesus.
Let us never underestimate the time spent teaching a child in the ways of God. They will reap a harvest if we only help them learn to plant the seeds.
In His Love,
Glynnis
Dylan has always been one of those kids with an opinion. He has a heightened sense of justice, which often causes him to see things in black and white. Here's an example of how his personality revealed itself even at an early age.
Eight years ago, when Dylan was seven, we lived across country from my parents, and I recorded a conversation we had in the car. Dylan had earned excellent grades on his report card and we started talking about what he would be when he grew up. He wanted to be an architect. But here's what he said after that:
"But I'm going to be something before I'm an architect, I'm going to be a missionary. I'm already a missionary! I'm a missionary to Grandpa. I want to send Grandpa a Bible."
I asked him which Bible. Dylan said, "The one I take to church every week." I said I thought it would be a good idea, and it would also be good when we get back to Phoenix for Dylan to spend time with Grandpa and tell him little bits about Jesus. To which Dylan replied in a surprised, and dramatic voice, "Little bits?!" Little bits?! A missionary wouldn't tell little bits about Jesus to someone!"
We returned to Phoenix, and Dylan's witness of being faithful in attending church, loving Jesus, and in our praying for Grandpa never diminished. Every night my husband and I prayed (and still do) with our children as we tuck them into bed, and every night, we prayed for my father to come to know Jesus.
Flash forward five years. Dylan is sitting beside his dying grandfather's bedside. I'll never know exactly what Dylan was thinking. He'd prayed every night for Grandpa his entire life, so tonight was no different. Only this time the stakes were higher.
With the boldness of a child, he invited his grandpa to accept Jesus. Dylan pleaded with him in fact. And at the invitation of a precious child, my father, Richard Edward Owens, nodded yes to the most important decision of his eternity.
I am so thankful Dylan was taught to pray. Not only by us, but by the many children's ministry leaders who have helped him grow in his faith. I think of my friends Dean and Becky Smyth and so many others who volunteered to help teach children's church and Sunday School at Bethany Presbyterian when Dylan was just a toddler. I think of my friends at Southbrook in Charlotte, and my friends now at the Vineyard, like Jody Kingston and Mike Denk who work full time teaching kids what it means to be an extraordinary follower of Christ. I wish I could go back and hug each one of you who sacrificed an hour to teach my son how to pray. Look what happened because of your faithfulness.
So, let me wrap this up by telling you what Dylan said at the graveside service. My father was a Korean War veteran, and the only service we had for him was at the cemetery, and he received full honors. We did have a pastor say a few words, and he asked if anyone wanted to say anything. After a moment of awkward silence, Dylan stood up and walked forward. He was shaking, and obviously struggling to hold back tears, as he recounted the night he sat by Grandpa's bedside. Dylan said something like this, "I told him, 'Grandpa, if you don't accept Jesus before you die, you're going to hell.'"
Right there at the grave site I actually had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Of course it wasn't funny. But in the stress of the moment, I laughed at my own misinterpretation of how that night went. I imagined a gentle invitation. Where had my son come up with that? We had NEVER attended a church with teachings that direct. But on the other hand, we had never hid the truth either. Dylan cut to the bottom line.
Children can reach people we never can. Children pass sweetly through defensiveness and pride. They understand messing up, because they mess up a lot. They are non-threatening. But they are mighty and effective warriors for Jesus.
Let us never underestimate the time spent teaching a child in the ways of God. They will reap a harvest if we only help them learn to plant the seeds.
In His Love,
Glynnis
Monday, October 13, 2008
A warm welcome to readers of the Encouragement for Today devotions, and to my regular blog readers. On Tuesday, Proverbs 31 ran a devotion I wrote about not giving up in prayer. I based it on many seasons hearing coaches tell their players to not stop blocking until the whistles blows. If you haven't read it, please click here. (It will be posted Tuesday morning if you read this earlier)
Sadly, it's easy to be discouraged. It's an effective tool of Satan that undermines many victories. The truth is we will never slip into dedication. We won't wake up one day to discover we have suddenly become a person who perseveres till the end. Just like those boys on the football field, it takes practice to be diligent in whatever task is set before us. Praying for our loved ones to come to know Jesus is one of those tasks that is worth whatever it takes to overcome discouragement. I know, because my father is in heaven because of decades of prayer, even when it seemed hopeless.
In my blog today, I'm going to share with you the story of how my dad came to accept Jesus before he died. I pray it encourages you to never give up praying for someone you love. By the way, come back to tomorrow and I'll tell you what Dylan said at my dad's graveside service, and why teaching your kids to pray is important.
*********
Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." Luke 23:42-43, (NIV)
My dad’s health was failing fast. He’d been admitted to ICU with severe dehydration and aspirated pneumonia after a short stay in a care center. When the ICU nurse started asking us hard questions about my dad’s last wishes, we knew the outlook was grim.
A scientist and biology teacher all his life, my father was practical about matters of life and death. The downside of his pragmatic mind was a resistance to anything spiritual. For years he watched my mother faithfully take my sister and me to church, yet any attempt at a discussion of faith was met with an annoyed change of subject.
Now critically ill, able to respond only in nods, my Dad’s need for Jesus was never more obvious. Our prayers over him grew bolder with each passing hour.
One night my mother and I stood talking with the nurse in charge, while my 12-year-old son Dylan was in with his grandpa. After 10 minutes, Dylan came out, we said our goodbyes to my dad and left the hospital.
On the ride home Dylan was unusually quiet. He finally spoke and said, “Mom, I think Grandpa accepted Jesus tonight.” He went on to explain, “I told him he needed Jesus and I told him why, then I waited a few minutes and asked if he wanted to accept Jesus into his heart, and Grandpa nodded yes.”
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that at the invitation of a child, and with a nod, my father was immediately adopted into the family of God. Even though Dad couldn’t speak, I believe that nod was enough.
In Jesus’ final hours, He displayed the grace of God towards a broken sinner. Without saying the sinner’s prayer, the thief dying next to Jesus rasped out these words: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). With an answer that rings hope into the hearts of everyone who loves a hardened sinner, Jesus said “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise" (Luke 23:43).
The grace of God reached out to that thief on the cross. And the grace of God met my father at his point of greatest need. The incredible news is that God’s amazing grace is there for anyone who admits their need for Jesus and invites Him into their lives, no matter what point in their living … or dying.
Unfortunately we weren’t able to have a conversation with my father, because he got progressively worse and died a week later. Some might say my dad doesn’t deserve to be in heaven after rejecting God for so many years. I would definitely agree. However, I don’t deserve to be in heaven either and I’ve walked with Jesus for most of my life.
I’m eternally grateful that I won’t make it into heaven based on my character, how long I’ve been a Christian or how good a job I’ve done at being one. I’d never make it. The only way any of us receives eternal life is through Jesus. Romans 3:23-24, “… for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.”
As I reflect on goodness of God, I’m in awe that His grace extends to a gentle old scientist, unable to feed himself or speak. I imagine God looked down from heaven that night in the hospital and said encouragingly, “Just nod, Richard, I know that’s all you can do right now, and that’s all it will take.”
Sadly, it's easy to be discouraged. It's an effective tool of Satan that undermines many victories. The truth is we will never slip into dedication. We won't wake up one day to discover we have suddenly become a person who perseveres till the end. Just like those boys on the football field, it takes practice to be diligent in whatever task is set before us. Praying for our loved ones to come to know Jesus is one of those tasks that is worth whatever it takes to overcome discouragement. I know, because my father is in heaven because of decades of prayer, even when it seemed hopeless.
In my blog today, I'm going to share with you the story of how my dad came to accept Jesus before he died. I pray it encourages you to never give up praying for someone you love. By the way, come back to tomorrow and I'll tell you what Dylan said at my dad's graveside service, and why teaching your kids to pray is important.
*********
Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." Luke 23:42-43, (NIV)
My dad’s health was failing fast. He’d been admitted to ICU with severe dehydration and aspirated pneumonia after a short stay in a care center. When the ICU nurse started asking us hard questions about my dad’s last wishes, we knew the outlook was grim.
A scientist and biology teacher all his life, my father was practical about matters of life and death. The downside of his pragmatic mind was a resistance to anything spiritual. For years he watched my mother faithfully take my sister and me to church, yet any attempt at a discussion of faith was met with an annoyed change of subject.
Now critically ill, able to respond only in nods, my Dad’s need for Jesus was never more obvious. Our prayers over him grew bolder with each passing hour.
One night my mother and I stood talking with the nurse in charge, while my 12-year-old son Dylan was in with his grandpa. After 10 minutes, Dylan came out, we said our goodbyes to my dad and left the hospital.
On the ride home Dylan was unusually quiet. He finally spoke and said, “Mom, I think Grandpa accepted Jesus tonight.” He went on to explain, “I told him he needed Jesus and I told him why, then I waited a few minutes and asked if he wanted to accept Jesus into his heart, and Grandpa nodded yes.”
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that at the invitation of a child, and with a nod, my father was immediately adopted into the family of God. Even though Dad couldn’t speak, I believe that nod was enough.
In Jesus’ final hours, He displayed the grace of God towards a broken sinner. Without saying the sinner’s prayer, the thief dying next to Jesus rasped out these words: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). With an answer that rings hope into the hearts of everyone who loves a hardened sinner, Jesus said “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise" (Luke 23:43).
The grace of God reached out to that thief on the cross. And the grace of God met my father at his point of greatest need. The incredible news is that God’s amazing grace is there for anyone who admits their need for Jesus and invites Him into their lives, no matter what point in their living … or dying.
Unfortunately we weren’t able to have a conversation with my father, because he got progressively worse and died a week later. Some might say my dad doesn’t deserve to be in heaven after rejecting God for so many years. I would definitely agree. However, I don’t deserve to be in heaven either and I’ve walked with Jesus for most of my life.
I’m eternally grateful that I won’t make it into heaven based on my character, how long I’ve been a Christian or how good a job I’ve done at being one. I’d never make it. The only way any of us receives eternal life is through Jesus. Romans 3:23-24, “… for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.”
As I reflect on goodness of God, I’m in awe that His grace extends to a gentle old scientist, unable to feed himself or speak. I imagine God looked down from heaven that night in the hospital and said encouragingly, “Just nod, Richard, I know that’s all you can do right now, and that’s all it will take.”
Saturday, October 11, 2008
We just got home from watching our youngest son play Pop Warner football, and I'm still annoyed at the coaches. Even after writing an entire book about how to help your child when he or she is hurting, I still want to go shake my finger in a coach's face and give him a piece of my mind! Which, if you read my book, isn't the best method of helping your child deal with pain.
But I still want to do it! (said with hands on hip and right foot stomped!)
And once again I've come to the conclusion that football is not a women's sport. I know some women play, and more power to you. But football at its core has testosterone flowing through it. I'm convinced if moms were coaching, the sport would be very different. How do I know?
Because if moms were coaching, every little boy would get equal playing time.
Those boys who don't have natural athletic ability, would NOT be pulled out after making one mistake, while everyone in the stands watched.
Moms would make sure that every boy got a positive word of encouragement.
Moms would never call a group of junior high boys "ladies."
Moms would recognize a child who is trying his hardest, but whose body just won't cooperate with what his heart wants it to do.
Tonight I had to watch my little boy get his heart broken again after being told he would start on defense, only to get pulled after one mistake. Then I watched him stand away from the rest of his team, hoping the coaches would notice him and put him back in. And once, when he thought he heard his name called, I watched him start to run towards the coach, only to realize it was someone else who was being put in.
So I tried to remember my own advice when my child hurts in a situation like this ... when someone doesn't see his potential, when his effort is overlooked, and when he hangs his head in sadness.
For this situation, and this child, the most important thing his daddy and I did was tell him how proud we were of him. We both pointed out specific plays he made, and how they impacted the game. We acknowledged what a great team player he is and how he encouraged his teammates, even though he was sad. We recognized that he never gave up. And then we treated him to a fast-food dinner out after the game.
Even though we wanted to berate the coaches, we refrained. Honestly this was a big internal battle, that I haven't always won. But no good comes out of criticizing a coach in front of your child - no matter how satisfying it might feel at the moment. (speaking from personal experience here)
So tonight I'm praying for my little boy (who is really not so little anymore). I'm praying that the truth of who he is doesn't get smudged by what some other adults think of him. I'm praying that God helps me deal with my anger towards others who aren't very kind to my son. I'm even praying for the coaches, who are just volunteer dads. And I'm trusting God will bring good out of this situation - for both my Robbie and me. He will - I know it!
That's enough venting for one tonight. I think I need to go read my Romantic Homes magazine and get a bit of femininity back in my life. But I'll hug and kiss my son before he falls asleep. Because I still can. Thank you God!
Love,
Glynnis
But I still want to do it! (said with hands on hip and right foot stomped!)
And once again I've come to the conclusion that football is not a women's sport. I know some women play, and more power to you. But football at its core has testosterone flowing through it. I'm convinced if moms were coaching, the sport would be very different. How do I know?
Because if moms were coaching, every little boy would get equal playing time.
Those boys who don't have natural athletic ability, would NOT be pulled out after making one mistake, while everyone in the stands watched.
Moms would make sure that every boy got a positive word of encouragement.
Moms would never call a group of junior high boys "ladies."
Moms would recognize a child who is trying his hardest, but whose body just won't cooperate with what his heart wants it to do.
Tonight I had to watch my little boy get his heart broken again after being told he would start on defense, only to get pulled after one mistake. Then I watched him stand away from the rest of his team, hoping the coaches would notice him and put him back in. And once, when he thought he heard his name called, I watched him start to run towards the coach, only to realize it was someone else who was being put in.
So I tried to remember my own advice when my child hurts in a situation like this ... when someone doesn't see his potential, when his effort is overlooked, and when he hangs his head in sadness.
For this situation, and this child, the most important thing his daddy and I did was tell him how proud we were of him. We both pointed out specific plays he made, and how they impacted the game. We acknowledged what a great team player he is and how he encouraged his teammates, even though he was sad. We recognized that he never gave up. And then we treated him to a fast-food dinner out after the game.
Even though we wanted to berate the coaches, we refrained. Honestly this was a big internal battle, that I haven't always won. But no good comes out of criticizing a coach in front of your child - no matter how satisfying it might feel at the moment. (speaking from personal experience here)
So tonight I'm praying for my little boy (who is really not so little anymore). I'm praying that the truth of who he is doesn't get smudged by what some other adults think of him. I'm praying that God helps me deal with my anger towards others who aren't very kind to my son. I'm even praying for the coaches, who are just volunteer dads. And I'm trusting God will bring good out of this situation - for both my Robbie and me. He will - I know it!
That's enough venting for one tonight. I think I need to go read my Romantic Homes magazine and get a bit of femininity back in my life. But I'll hug and kiss my son before he falls asleep. Because I still can. Thank you God!
Love,
Glynnis
Thursday, October 9, 2008
After a long break, I'm back to blogging. This past month I've packed for my trip to England with my husband, make plans for a small army of helpers to manage my kids and their activities, then spent 12 wonderful days being just a wife in the land of my dreams, then spent the next two weeks trying to recover from those 12 days. I find trying to get back to normal takes longer and longer as I get older. Maybe it's because I left "normal" so many years ago, I don't know what it looks like.
My youngest son Robbie and I were talking about that just yesterday. We ran an errand together, and noticed two people walking three dogs. If you haven't read about our Husky, you may be surprised to discover that we can't even walk that one dog with three people! She's a runner and it takes someone on a bike to take her for a walk. Anyway, I commented that it's been so long since we had a "normal" walk, and he said, "Mom, nothing's normal in our house."
He's right. With two parents working from home, five active kids, and two crazy dogs, no day is "normal." But that's not really the point I wanted to make today. I digress before I even get started. (grin) If that doesn't tell you about my state of mind, nothing will.
Yesterday I read a comment from one of our customers. Just so you know, my husband and I run an online store. (I would put a link to it on my blog if I knew how). In case you are interested in cottage-style home accent piece - especially pretty home office stuff - see http://www.roselanecottage.com/.
This customer purchased a white wire bathroom shelf. When she opened it, apparently a small section had been damaged. We must not have noticed it here, otherwise we would never had shipped it. Anyway, she called me and asked what she should do about it. I told her we'd ship a second one out to her immediately and not to worry about returning that one. If we didn't have another one in stock, I would credit her account.
The very next morning she called and left a message saying the damage was so small that her husband was able to fix it and touch up the paint. Now that's going above and beyond what she should have done, in my book. But she did it.
We then sent her an email asking for feedback on our service. We send this to everyone. She responded giving us "excellent" ratings for everything. Then proceeded to comment on the story of how we handled her problem.
This is not uncommon. We can run our business smoothly, get everything out in a timely manner, ship product that's in perfect condition, and everyone is pleased, but not terribly surprised. But when we handle a problem in a manner that's respectful, prompt and shows we take responsibility, people sit up and take notice.
Making a mistake isn't the end of the world. In fact, I've noticed it's actually an opportunity to make a statement about character. People notice how you handle mistakes much more than how you manage success. People are always watching.
I'm so relieved I don't have to do everything right. I tried that life for many years, and ended up being discouraged. This incident reminded me once again, that even in my weakness, God can still use me to touch another person's life, and bring a spot of hope to her day.
I will probably never meet this customer who purchased a wire bathroom shelf, but I pray she knows there is a God who stands for truth, honesty and justice, and people who are trying to follow Him, who stumble, who get back up and keep going.
Have a great day!
Love,
Glynnis
My youngest son Robbie and I were talking about that just yesterday. We ran an errand together, and noticed two people walking three dogs. If you haven't read about our Husky, you may be surprised to discover that we can't even walk that one dog with three people! She's a runner and it takes someone on a bike to take her for a walk. Anyway, I commented that it's been so long since we had a "normal" walk, and he said, "Mom, nothing's normal in our house."
He's right. With two parents working from home, five active kids, and two crazy dogs, no day is "normal." But that's not really the point I wanted to make today. I digress before I even get started. (grin) If that doesn't tell you about my state of mind, nothing will.
Yesterday I read a comment from one of our customers. Just so you know, my husband and I run an online store. (I would put a link to it on my blog if I knew how). In case you are interested in cottage-style home accent piece - especially pretty home office stuff - see http://www.roselanecottage.com/.
This customer purchased a white wire bathroom shelf. When she opened it, apparently a small section had been damaged. We must not have noticed it here, otherwise we would never had shipped it. Anyway, she called me and asked what she should do about it. I told her we'd ship a second one out to her immediately and not to worry about returning that one. If we didn't have another one in stock, I would credit her account.
The very next morning she called and left a message saying the damage was so small that her husband was able to fix it and touch up the paint. Now that's going above and beyond what she should have done, in my book. But she did it.
We then sent her an email asking for feedback on our service. We send this to everyone. She responded giving us "excellent" ratings for everything. Then proceeded to comment on the story of how we handled her problem.
This is not uncommon. We can run our business smoothly, get everything out in a timely manner, ship product that's in perfect condition, and everyone is pleased, but not terribly surprised. But when we handle a problem in a manner that's respectful, prompt and shows we take responsibility, people sit up and take notice.
Making a mistake isn't the end of the world. In fact, I've noticed it's actually an opportunity to make a statement about character. People notice how you handle mistakes much more than how you manage success. People are always watching.
I'm so relieved I don't have to do everything right. I tried that life for many years, and ended up being discouraged. This incident reminded me once again, that even in my weakness, God can still use me to touch another person's life, and bring a spot of hope to her day.
I will probably never meet this customer who purchased a wire bathroom shelf, but I pray she knows there is a God who stands for truth, honesty and justice, and people who are trying to follow Him, who stumble, who get back up and keep going.
Have a great day!
Love,
Glynnis
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Visit my other blog
