A PARENT'S HEART
		
		French Fry Flambé
		
		By Debra White Smith
		
		 
		
		CBN.com 
		   I have been reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother 
Lois and in your mother Eunice and, 
I am persuaded, now lives in you also. 
For this reason I remind you to fan into flame 
the gift of God, which is in you 
through the laying on of my hands. 
          2 Timothy 1:5  
           
French fries  are an American institution. My children are definitely American; they love  fries. Since I lean more toward being a health nut, I often bake crinkle fries  or tater tots for the kids. But about once a month, I still fry them up a big  pan of french fries. Admittedly, I love the crunch of a crisp fry just as much  as any kid.  
		Several years  ago, I filled an iron skillet full of cooking oil and piled the french fries in  the skillet. I noticed I’d gotten the skillet a little full, but I decided to  do the best I could with the situation. In the middle of the frying, I stepped  into my home office for but a moment. Still focused upon my cooking, I returned  to the stove within a minute or two—only to discover my fries were flaming! My  over-filled pan of fries had leaked oil onto the burner. Yellow, red, and blue  flames engulfed the pan.  
		I experienced a  flashback to my childhood. During a family movie, my mother placed a pan with  oil in it on the stove. She stepped out of the kitchen with plans to return and  prepare popcorn once the oil was hot. Unfortunately, she got involved in the  movie, forgot the pan, and the whole thing caught on fire. My father had  grabbed a potholder, grasped the pan’s handle, and hurtled toward the back  door. He tossed the pan into the yard. The flames immediately stopped. I tried  to imagine myself mimicking my dad, but I couldn’t get past the image of my  spilling the fries and oil all over the floor and possibly catching the kitchen  on fire. 
		Then I  remembered the fire extinguisher. We’d been required to have one in the kitchen  for our home’s adoption inspection. Once I retrieved that long red canister  from the wall hanger, I was faced with another problem: How to operate it! With  the flames gaining fervor, I prodded and pulled and gouged at the various  appendages on the fire extinguisher. 
		Finally, as a  last resort, I decided to read the fine print near the top of the extinguisher.  After pushing this button and pulling that lever, I was able to press the  trigger and receive significant results. A white blast erupted from the nozzle.  The fire disappeared. I turned off the burner, pulled the hot pan to a cool  spot, and examined the french fries. What once promised to be a crisp treat was  now a batch of soggy, gray, gooey potato strips. 
		By this point,  my husband had heard the seconds-long upheaval and rushed to the kitchen. “What  happened?” he asked.  
		“I caught a pan of french fries on fire,” I explained, still holding the fire  extinguisher.  
		He eyed the extinguisher, the yucky pan of fries, then me. “Are you okay?” 
		“Yes,” I said  and continued with something like, “I’m the sharpest shooter in the south.”  
		He chuckled and  said, “We won’t be eating these, will we?” 
		“No.” I sighed  and considered the empty fries bag in the trash can. “And I don’t have any more  either. I guess I’ll have to plan some other vegetable for dinner.” 
		While Daniel  hung up the fire extinguisher, I dumped the pan of fries outside and  congratulated myself on dealing with the crisis in a timely and sensible  manner—even if I did have to read the instructions to work the fire  extinguisher.  
		Statistics show  that a significant number of serious house fires start in the kitchen, often  due to a situation just like mine and my mom’s. The chef on duty steps out of  the kitchen for just a second and either forgets that pan of oil on the burner  or just misses the moment when the fire ignites. 
		The fire in our  souls is much different from the fires in our kitchen. Interestingly enough,  while stepping away from a cooking meal might result in spontaneous combustion,  stepping away from seriously pursuing the Lord will result in a cold heart.  Surveys show that many moms don’t take the time to keep the fire burning in  their souls. While having a fire in our kitchen is a far cry from “safe” having  a holy inferno in our hearts is exactly what moms need. A mother with a  passionate relationship with Jesus Christ is more likely to hear His voice when  a parenting crisis is on. I’ve found that the closer I walk to Christ, the more  likely I am to keep a cool head, even if I’m tired and the kids are grumpy. 
		Like many moms,  I’ve struggled with how to make time in my hectic day for an encounter with the  Lord. Sometimes I think we set ourselves up for failure by thinking if we don’t  get up at six o’clock in the morning, light a candle, put on a choir robe, and  listen to organ music, we just aren’t spiritual enough. The problem with being  a mom—especially of young children—is that the nature of the job involves the  unexpected. The very day you do manage to get up at six for prayer will be the  day a sleepy-eyed toddler arrives at your side and, without a word, throws up  all over you and the floor. So there you are, mopping vomit, when you’re  scheduled to be praying. 
		When my kids  were younger, out of desperation I finally asked God to give me time every day  when I could stoke the fire in my soul. He answered my prayer. Nearly every day  my kids would unexpectedly conk out in front of the TV while I was preparing a  snack. Like any other industrious mom, I saw the break as an opportunity to  straighten the house or do the dishes. But the second I stepped toward the pile  of dishes in the sink, I would hear a still small voice beckoning me to sit in  the presence of the Lord rather than scrub pots and pans. So I’d leave the  dishes until later and snuggle down in the couch with my Bible and a heart  ready to absorb God’s Spirit and wisdom. Amazingly, I always found time to do  the dishes later. 
		Many nights,  one of my children would awaken for any number of reasons and need me in the  wee hours. After my child went back to sleep, I’d think, I haven’t had a  serious prayer time in a couple of days. I’ve already been awake an hour.  Another hour won’t hurt me. And I’d get my Bible, put on my worship music,  and encounter God. 
		For me,  encountering God means I take the time to fall silent and listen for His voice  in the recesses of my soul. Sometimes I need help in solving parental issues.  Or I wait for the Lord to give me insights for my writing and speaking. On  other occasions, I lift up issues with people or difficult decisions. Sure it’s  important to bring my requests to Him ... and I do. But waiting for the Lord’s  guidance and basking in the warmth of His presence are just as important as  talking to Him. This allows prayer time to be a dynamic, two-way communication,  rather than a one-person monologue. 
		It’s so easy to  develop a McDonald’s mentality with God. We often approach Him like we would  place an order at a fast-food window. “Hey, God, give me an extra large order  of blessings and smear on some ketchup, will Ya?” Then we zoom right through  our day and never take the time to allow Him to stoke the fire in our souls.  Just as good moms are committed to spending quality time with their kids, so we  need to commit to spending quality time with the Lord. 
		Remember to  show your children the image of a godly mother. The more spiritually minded you  are, the more likely they are to be spiritual teens and adults. Don’t make  excuses for neglecting God. The colder your heart grows, the less likely you  are to hear the voice of the Lord, and the more mistakes you will make as a  parent. 
		 
		Excerpted  from It's a Jungle at Home: Survival Strategies for the Overwhelmed Mom by Debra White Smith; Copyright 2006 by Debra White Smith;  Published by Harvest House Publishers, Eugene, OR; Used with permission. 
		  
		
		   
 
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