Random Thoughts

Total Loss ...

2011-06-08T22:52:00.009-04:00

Jerry and I bought a new (to us) car last summer. We went to numerous car dealerships. Talked over cars, trucks, suv's ... couldn't make up our minds. Mostly because we've made some poor vehicle purchases in the past ... we didn't want to revisit those poor choices. Finally, a good price ... low miles ... good shape ... fit our whole family ... nice size trunk for all the baseball equipment (and suitcases for vacations). We signed the dotted line and drove it home.

Since last summer, we've put a large amount of money into unexpected repairs. I won't list them all ... too many ... too much money. But, there are two specific repairs that have me thinking ...

This winter, a deer decided to play tag with Jerry. The deer didn't make it out of that mess ... Jerry's car came out with nearly $5,000 in damages. Of course our insurance covered it. But ... the waiting ... waiting ... waiting. Jerry drove a rental car for two weeks while the insurance company tried to decide if it was worth repairing or if it should be totaled. They ended up fixing it. We brought it home and agreed ... the body shop had done a great job. The car looked beautiful. It was evident the shop owner took pride in his work.

This past Monday, Jerry called me at work. Someone pulled out of an alley and smashed into the passenger side of his car. Jerry and the other driver were fine, no injuries. But our car ... injured. We both wondered ... will they total it? After he got home from work that evening, we looked over the car. Both doors were beyond repair and would require replacements. Neither of us know a lot about cars, so we couldn't tell if the frame was damaged.

Yesterday, Jerry talked with our insurance company and then took his car to the same body shop for inspection. The mechanic told him it didn't look like the car would be totaled. But ... finding two doors in as good of shape as our originals would be a tough job.But, he wouldn't put doors on our car that didn't 'measure up' to the existing body. He had Jerry bring the car home and said he would call when he found the doors. Could be days, could be weeks. He reassured Jerry that the end result would be worth the wait.

So, we're waiting. And I'm thinking ...

That car keeps taking hits. Keeps crying out for general repairs you would expect from a used vehicle. Keeps going. But, I wonder ... how much more can it take? Maybe we should just park it in the driveway and not risk taking it out on the highway. We need that car to take Jerry from home to work and then back home again. We need it to get the boys to and from sporting events, school, practices.

Sometimes, my heart feels like that car. Have you ever felt that way? Like your heart hurts too much to keep going? Like it would be better to hide it someplace ... find a place where nothing/no one can touch it ... hurt it? This world and all it's imperfections ... it keeps denting my heart.

I keep giving pieces of my heart away. I keep going to the places where I know my heart will be smashed ... dented ... damaged. I don't keep it hidden away. I allow the hurt because I know God can heal it. He takes pride in His craftsmanship. Regardless of the damage, He will never count my heart as a total loss. Repairing the damage may take more time than I like ... but, it's worth the wait. And while I wait, His light will shine through the damaged places and give others a glimpse of what our God can do.

Tonight, my heart is damaged ... for one of my boys. As parents ... we love our children beyond measure. Seeing a hurt coming their way ... well ... it hurts us as much (if not more) than it hurts them. I know all of my boys will have to go through struggles to become the men God has planned for them to be. I just wish ... it didn't have to hurt. Not for them, not for me. I know He can heal any hurt, if I just let Him. So, I will. I will give Him my hurt and give Him my son ... it's hard to imagine, but I know that He loves my children more than I can even conceive. I will do the one thing I know to do ... I will pray.

If your heart is broken, damaged ... take it to the only One who can offer complete healing.

Psalm 91:4 "He shall cover you with His feathers, And under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler."

The Grass is Always Greener ...

2011-06-07T18:28:00.013-04:00

The drive between our house and Jerry's family is beautiful ... summer, winter ... spring, fall. The road bends around dense groves of trees, vast farm ground and open pastures. Rolling hills take you up and down, carving out a passage through God's country. During the summer, wild flowers poke through tall grass. Large tree branches perch high above the road ... their leaves offering shade.

Over Memorial Day weekend, we took that drive to meet Jerry's family at his sister's house. Like many other trips, we made a game out of who could spot the first deer. This is easier during winter when their stark brown bodies stand out from the white snow covered pastures. In the summer, they fade into the tall grasses, soybeans or corn stalks.There could be large numbers grazing in the open fields or a single one peaking out from the roadside trees. Our boys love watching for them and it keeps the boys busy for the 20 minute drive.

Each of us spotted a few deer. Even one deer standing just off the road, nearly hidden by the shadows cast from trees. As we rounded one of the curves, I noticed a herd of cows grazing ... meandering down the fence line ... enjoying the warm sun and green grass. The field around them and behind them was covered in tall grass, wild flowers and trees. For some reason, they all gathered by the fence. The fence row was lined with a muddy path. The cows sunk deep into the muck and stretched as far as they could ... munching on grass. We stopped (because I wanted to) and watched.

That is so dumb, I thought. I looked at their legs, completely covered in a thick layer of mud ... up to their knees. Dumb. All around them stood long stems of bright green grass ... they could eat those and not end up in such a mess. I'm sure cows don't really care about the appearance but surely it's uncomfortable.

We drove on and I thought ... dumb? I do that exact same thing. I am surrounded by blessings. Yet ... I reach as far as I can ... stretching to try and achieve something ... obtain something. it's not that I don't love the life He has given me ... for some reason it just seems that what someone else has might make me ... more content. I have everything I need all around me. I don't need to have what's on the other side of the fence. I always end up making a mess of things when I try to gain something that really isn't intended for me. I walk back and forth at the fence line, making a huge muddy trench ... starring at what someone else has on the other side, trying to figure out how I can get what they have ... if I stretch far enough maybe I can reach it, pull it back to my side of the fence. I'm sure the farmer who owns those cows has given them plenty of pasture. I'm sure he planned it out, knew exactly what his livestock would need ... gave it to them and cares for their well being. God put me on this side of the fence for a reason. He knows what's best for me, he cares for me and satisfies my every need.

From now on, when we pass that open field and see those cows ... I'll be reminded of how much I have and how much I love what He has given me.

Deuteronomy 5:21 "You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife; and you shall not desire your neighbor’s house, his field, his male servant, his female servant, his ox, his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor’s."

Matthew 6:19 “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; 20 but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

When It Rains ...

2011-05-28T19:06:00.007-04:00

I remember a pastor, years ago, giving a sermon about two farmers praying for rain. I'm sure most of you have heard this story ... both farmers desperately needed rain for their fields. Each begged God for rain. But, only one prepared for the rain. Who trusted God more? The farmer who prayed and prepared? Or, the farmer who prayed ... and did nothing? The farmer who prepared for the rain ... trusted God heard his prayer and had faith God would provide.

I grew up in the heart of Indiana ... where corn is "knee high by the Fourth of July." My father owned a family business from 9 to 5 and spent every other hour tending the farm. That meant keeping a watchful eye on the weather beginning in April of every year. Watch, wait. Watch, wait. Plant, wait. Harvest.

The late April evenings were wrapped in the scent of freshly plowed earth. My father would come in well after dark, wash up and pull a warm plate from the oven. He couldn't eat with us during the planting season. So, mom would keep his supper plate warm in the oven. I remember he always smelled of oil and dirt on those nights and aftershave on Sunday mornings. Those smells were a reminder of our livelihood ... smelling the dirt and oil let me and my sister know farming was steady, constant, good. The smell of aftershave on Sunday mornings meant ... you were grounded in Good.

The spring of 2011 has been difficult in the Heartland. Farmers have been watching, watching and watching. Waiting, waiting and waiting. No planting. Near constant rain has flooded fields and pushed out any chance for plowing and planting. Just when the soil starts to dry and farmers bring out their plows ... rain ... and more rain. By this time, you can usually drive down county roads and see rows of green ... if you drive fast enough, the rows blur in what I always thought compared to Mother Nature's skirt. Long steady stripes of green fanned out for acres ... like a skirt. This year, slop. Muddy, messy, depressing ... constant brown, slime. And, fear begins to seep in. Just like the mud in our fields, it seems to take over everything. Our faith in the seasons ... in God's care ... begins to sink into the mud.

On my way home from work each day, I see trucks parked in the ditches beside fields. The farmers are out walking the fields ... waiting ... for no rain. Praying for no rain. Praying for fields dry enough to run a plow and plant crops.

It's in times like these ... we need faith, joy ... laughter. Today, on Facebook, one of my friends posted a video of her husband. Their family lives on a farm and depends on that farm for their livelihood. Rather than sinking into the mud of anxiety ... he went skiing. And ... we all laughed. We needed that laughter. It's good medicine.

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...It's about learning to dance (or ski) in the rain."

— Vivian Greene

I know Ped and Lindsey are praying for the rain to stop. While they pray ... they trust. Thank you ... Ped and Lindsey!

Elephants, Horses and Peanuts ...

2011-05-21T11:23:00.009-04:00

"I messed up, Mama!" Kregg is dramatic. So, there's no telling how serious the 'mess up' is.

"With what?" I stop writing my blog and look over where he sits at the desktop computer. His arms are crossed and his eyebrows are knit into a frustrated line.

"My WebKinz! I messed it all up! I named my new elephant Peanut!" Kregg motions toward the computer screen and pouts.

"Why is that a bad thing?" I don't understand. Elephants eat peanuts, Peanut is a good name ... right?

"Cause Mommy, I named my horse that too!!! I can't have two with the same name!" He's getting really mad.

"Why not?"

"How am I gonna know how to tell 'em apart?" He turns to me ... a sad, hopeless look in his big brown eyes. For Kregg, this is the biggest worry of his day. And, he wants me to 'fix it'. Somehow. The thing is ... you can't change your WebKinz name. Not that I know of anyway. Once you give them a name ... that's it. It's done. Kregg can see a picture of each WebKinz animal. So, really ... he will know by seeing them. Their names are the same but they look entirely different. One is a horse ... the other an Elephant. Big difference, right?

"Kregg, you'll know when you see them. You know the difference between an elephant and a horse ... so, you'll know. And, really ... it's just a name. All that matters is you love your WebKinz You know your horse likes carrots and your elephant likes peanuts. You know what they like to play with and what makes them happy."

To my surprise, it worked. He smiled ... "Yeah, I guess you're right. I kinda like Peanut for a horse and an elephant. Thanks, Mommy."

He went back to his game and me to writing. And ... me to thinking. How many Aine's are there? In America ... not that many. But, in Ireland ... the heritage of my given name ... there are many. At the time of our boys birth, Jerry and I picked names from our family heritage. Deep in roots and meaning. And ...we thought the names were at least somewhat unique. Clay, James and Kregg. By the time Clay went to a sitter so I could return to work ... Clay had become a popular name for little boys. In fact, there were 2 at our sitter. She would call out ... "Clay" and both would answer. Our Clay found this funny. He loved teasing his sitter and laughing at her silly faces when both he and his friend came running to her calls. Clay wasn't at all sad that he shared his name with another boy. Clay knew he was ... ours. Our Clay. Jerry and I would never be confused or struggle to know which one was ours. Because we knew ... him. Everything about him was etched in our hearts from the moment of his creation. There was no confusion, no guessing. Clay loved cheerios, french fries, pancakes and milk. Curling up on the couch with popcorn and hot chocolate while Star Wars Return of the Jedi played on the tv ... could fix any bad day.

Christ knows me in that same way. Regardless of the Aine's in America or Ireland ... HE knows the one that needs Pepsi and caramel bars with salty potato chips on a bad day .... the one who loves a man with brown eyes and a soft smile. The Aine who is much happier sitting on her front porch in worn out jeans and a grubby t-shirt than in a stuffy office with high heels and dress clothes. Christ knows just how much I can take on any given day. He gives me trials and victories ... in just the right balance to help me grow in faith. He is never confused about His children. Each one is special and unique in His eyes.

No matter how the world knows me ... He knows me best. Before I even call His name in praise or need ... He is already on His way to give it ... to the one and only Aine who is uniquely me.

Psalm 139:13-16 "For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made, Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from you. When I was made in secret,And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me,When as yet there were none of them."

In time ...

2011-05-21T08:33:00.015-04:00

Meet Hunter (aka - Best Mouser on the Farm). She came to our family 3 years ago and has outlasted every other cat on our farm. I could name lots of reasons for this but mainly it's because ... she's careful and smart. Hunter is quiet (literally ... she barely makes a soft meow) and fairly timid. Not much bothers her. Most of the time, she keeps to herself. Hunter finds her own food (thus her Best Mouser title) and watches everything.

Last week, Hunter was missing more often than present. Even for her occasional bowl of milk just inside the patio doors ... she wasn't there. We all know her well enough to guess the reason ... kittens. Each evening, Jerry and I sat on our deck and quietly watched. Nothing. We started to worry. Hunter is a part of our small family. She was missing and being missed.

Wednesday afternoon, I had reached the limits of my worry (and curiosity). I pulled on my grubby sneakers, grabbed our large flashlight ... and went hunting for Hunter. The last time she crawled into my lap, I had smelled the strong aroma of warm hay. Only one place on the farm smells that sweet ... the hayloft. I climbed the ladder and sat in the entryway to the loft. I listened and waited. The breeze rustling leaves and stirring twine from the hay bales, passing cars and birds chirping ... then the quiet murmur of kittens. I followed the sound and was lead to the very back of the loft. Rectangular bales of hay blocked any close proximity to the sound. As with any litter of kittens before these, Hunter has picked a nest not easily reached. Out of a seeming nowhere, Hunter curled around my legs and walked lazily away from the bales. I know her, she was leading me away from her most prized possession. Hunter loves me. But, she loves her babies more. I patted her head. "Smart girl", I whispered. From that loft, she can survey the entire farm. No other animal can gain entry to Hunter's nest without first going past her.

I went back down the ladder. Jerry met me just beyond the barn. He and our oldest son had tried without success to find Hunter and her secret. I smiled, because ... I am the same as I was in my youth. If there were new kittens on our farm, I would find them. I was the only one patient enough (which is VERY surprising because I am not a patient person). Together, Jerry and I took food up to the loft. I sat on a bale and listened to the murmur as Hunter lapped up every bit of milk. She was starving. We had not seen her for 3 days and it seemed she hadn't left the loft at all during those days. As hungry as Hunter was, she stopped every few seconds and went to a bale at the very top ... peaked down at her secret, looked at me and back at her secret ... then, back again to eat. There was something very peaceful in that loft ... something sacred. I thought of my Savior and how He will go to any length for me. He would go without food or nourishment ... for me. Nothing can come near me without first being allowed by Him.

Sometimes, I feel as though He doesn't see the things that hurt me. If He did notice, wouldn't He stop them ... wouldn't He keep me from that hurt? I think it's 'human nature' to feel and think those things. Not nature in the way God created us but ... in the nature this world has corrupted His creation. I know the answers ... those things that seem too heavy to hold and too hurtful ... those things are molding and shaping me into the person He wants me to be. Knowing this Truth doesn't minimize the pain or trivialize the suffering. Knowing this Truth ... gives me an attainable 'calm in the storm' ... it's hard to find ... but it's there.

Each day, Jerry and I have taken Hunter something to eat. I climb the ladder and leave her treat just far enough inside the loft so as not to worry her. And, each day, she meets me on the ladder ... unwilling to let me go any closer.

Eventually, Hunter will let me come near and see what she has hidden. But, for now ... Hunter knows her babies need rest, nourishment and ... protection. For now, they need to be left in the care of the one who loves them most. When our family meets the new additions, it will be in Hunter's timing ... not ours. They'll be afraid at first ... unsure of something so much bigger than they are ... but, in time they will learn to trust us. And, I will wait because her timing (just like Christ's) is perfect.

James 1:2 - 3 "Consider all joy my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance."

Psalm 91:4 He shall cover you with His feathers,And under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler."

An Extra Out ...

2011-04-12T17:28:00.004-04:00

A group of neighborhood kids gathered in an open lot. Everyone came to play 'kick ball'. Everyone ... including the girl with perfect imperfections. Not all children would welcome a child touched with special needs ... but this group ... did. Teams were picked ... the little girl was always chosen ... never left out. The team she landed on was allowed an extra out. No one complained. No one made a fuss. They wanted her to be a part of the game.

As I listened to my friend's recount of this childhood memory, tears clogged my throat and perched on my eyelids. This friend and I, we share a special similarity in life. I have a niece with special needs and she ... a sister with special needs. We both know the cruelty this world can deliver. We also know the measure of someones acceptance.

She went on to say that she sometimes runs into one of those neighborhood kids. They're all adults now. She sees them, smiles, calls them by name ... and remembers.

Those kids accepted her sister with all the differences. They allowed an extra out for her. Anything she couldn't do ... didn't matter to them ... didn't change the girl who was their friend.

After we talked, I went back to my office and ... sat there. I couldn't stop thinking about those kids and the acceptance they gave ... freely.

I don't know any of those kids (now adults). I've never met them. But ... I'm thankful for their quiet witness. On an open lot, in the middle of a neighborhood, playing a game of 'kick ball' ... they made a choice that has ministered to my heart ... years later.

We all have differences. Things that somehow hold us back from the ability to do what comes so easily for others. Imagine the acceptance we could give if ... we allow each other an 'extra out'. Make it so the things we (or others) can't do ... don't matter. At the end of the game, all that would matter is ... we were there.

"Sometimes things are allowed to happen so that the quiet power of our Lord to arrange and rearrange events according to His purpose may be shown." Amy Carmichael - Spirit Filled Woman's Devotional Bible

Cheerios and Shrek

2011-04-07T07:23:00.005-04:00

When do you feel accepted ... just the way you are?

With family and friends .... ?

In a room of strangers .... ?

Most people would say ... family and friends.

Our middle boy, James, found out a total stranger can make you feel accepted .... just the way you are ... no conditions.

A few weeks ago, our family attended a carry-in at our new pastor's home. A group of church members flocked into his home with cold meat sandwiches, chocolate pie, cherry delight, soup ... ready for food and fellowship.

The kitchen was filled with the aroma of home cooked food. And, smiles.

The thing is ... James is a picky eater. Jerry and I have (and are continuing) to work on this issue. Nothing set out was on his ... "I eat that" list. I talked to him before we walked into the house. I explained the situation to him and that he would be polite. He would find something to eat from whatever was provided. No arguing or complaining.

Everything was going great. Until ... it was time to fill our plates. James followed Jerry and me into the kitchen, holding a plate ... nervous look on his face. He went back to the table ... nothing on his plate.

In that moment, any number of things could have happened. But, the one thing I never saw coming ... happened.

Our pastor's wife brought James a bowl of Cheerios. After the meal, she put in a dvd (Shrek) and talked to my little boys. She laughed with them, sang silly Shrek songs with them ... made them feel welcome.

No one said anything about James 'diet' or ... anything. James was ... James ... and that was perfectly fine with everyone. Especially, Susie.

What no one in that room knew was ... James has not felt accepted in a lot of places. He's unsure of himself.

That day, he felt total acceptance. Unconditional. Unreserved.

That day, I learned a small act can mean so much.

A bowl of Cheerios and Shrek ... things some kids would take for granted ... made my James feel good about himself.

Each day, I want to live my life in a way that shows others ... they are loved. Just the way they are. There is a God who loves them unconditionally ... without reservations.

Thank you ... Susie. You have no idea how much your act of kindness meant to me.

John 13:35 "By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another."

While the Cameras Are Rolling ...

2011-04-06T08:00:00.008-04:00

I've been watching Celebrity Apprentice.

I don't usually enjoy reality shows. But ... this one is different. Watching people I've seen in movies, concerts, CMA's, sitcoms ... behind the script. I get to watch them interact on a personal level.

It's interesting.

This season, the men's team includes (among others) ... John Rich, Meatloaf and Gary Busey.

On each episode, the friction between Meatloaf and Gary has mushroomed. Last night, that friction exploded.

The team was given the task of creating art pieces for a fundraiser. Each celebrity needed to create a piece to be sold at the designated gallery. John Rich was assigned as the 'project manager' ... he was to lead his team. At the onset of the project, the men headed straight for the craft store. Each one picked up their own supplies. Camera crews followed them through the store and 'listened in' on conversations. Meatloaf found fault in everything Gary said or did. He repeated his frustrations to other team members. All the while, cameras caught each interaction.

Somewhere in the middle of the craft store and the art studio, Gary managed to ignite Meatloaf's temper. By the time everyone arrived at the studio and began setting up to create their pieces, Meatloaf was convinced Gary had taken his art supplies. He looked over at Gary's table and was certain the spray paint, sponges and brushes were all things he (not Gary) had purchased. Immediately, Meatloaf exploded into obscenities and name calling. Hateful words came spilling out of his mouth. He 'stalked' around the studio pointing fingers ... his face red with anger.

Gary stood still. Other team members tried to stop Meatloaf ... but, he kept on ranting. John Rich calmly told the guys to remember why they were doing this fundraiser ... for charity. Each celeb picks a charity and all money raised during the task goes to the project managers charity. John was raising funds for St. Jude. John took Gary out into the hall ... in an attempt to separate the two guys.

In the middle of this, John spied a bag sitting just out of immediate view. Meatloaf's supplies were all there ... no thieving by Gary.

Embarrassing.

I could not believe he acted that way ... he KNEW cameras were watching all of them.

Would I behave any differently if cameras watched my every move ... listened to every conversation?

In reality, I should always behave my best. Because ... God is watching. I'm human. I screw up. Sometimes I need Him to stop me ... remind me ... I'm here for a purpose. There's a bigger picture.

Meatloaf apologized. But ... his words and actions are forever recorded ... they can be played again (and again) for everyone to see. I'm thankful for a God who forgives and ... erases. He paid the ultimate price to take all my sins and wipe them from existence.

Psalm 139:23 "Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts."

Uncertainty

2011-03-30T07:00:00.011-04:00

I remember taking this picture of our youngest boys. It was two summers ago. Jerry and I sat on the shore with our oldest son. I watched as the boys waded out into the water, holding onto each other ... alone.

"I don't think we should let them go out there alone." I know my eyebrows were knit in anxiety."One of us should go with them."

"They're fine." I remember Jerry sighed.

"Sure, right now they are. But what if there's a drop off and they fall?" I'm sure I gave him that look. The one that says ... I know I'm right. "There might be a current out there and they could get swept off their feet! That water is muddy! They can't even see where they're going."

"I've already been out in the water. There isn't a drop off. There isn't a current. THEY are fine." Jerry gave me the look of ... conversation over. Let them go.

Today, I feel like I am walking out into muddy water. Not knowing if there are 'drop offs' just beyond my next step. Last week, Jerry got word of another round of layoffs. The first layoff started in February of 2009 and lasted until July 2010. That's a long time without the 'bread winners' income. During that year and a half, I felt like we were drowning. But, we made it.

I know what some of you are thinking ... 'he had unemployment to fall back on.' And, that's true. We were VERY thankful for that help. But, it was much less than his usual pay. On top of that, subtract the insurance benefits from my paychecks and we were facing nearly $2,000 in reduction of monthly income. The next layoff went from July 2010 to November 2010. We feared a long layoff ... just like the one before. But, surprisingly, the company called a group back right before Christmas. Jerry has worked since that time ... with steady income.

Last month, I sat down and wrote out our budget. That was the first time in nearly two years that I have been able to budget, pay bills on time ... put a little back in savings. Plan ahead. It felt good. It felt certain.

Last week, on the way home from work, Jerry called to tell me about his day. The 'ups and downs'.

Half way through the work day, he had been approached by a union steward. He knew what was coming. Layoff. Again. But ... the union steward said ... "You're safe. You're not cut. You get to keep working." Jerry felt relief. Yet some guilt over the men and women who were being cut.

Close to the end of the day ... another approach from the union steward. "Sorry man, there was a miscommunication. You're cut."

As Jerry gave words to his emotions ... I felt like screaming. There goes our budget, there goes that small savings we were gaining ... there goes our certainty, our security.

It felt like I was being pushed out into an ocean of muddy water. I couldn't see what was ahead of us. I couldn't be sure where our feet would land ... would there be massive 'drop offs' ...

Just as quickly as those fears came ... the memory of that summer washed over me ... Jerry's words came quickly ... "I've already been out there." And, as I pushed the fears aside ... along with a few tears ... I realized, God has already been there.

Nothing can touch us that has not already passed through His hands.

HE knows how deep the water is and where the 'drop offs' are ... if there is a massive current ... He knows and will protect us. I'm not sure how long this layoff will last. I don't know what will happen to that budget from last month.

But, I do know this ... He knows. He already has a plan.

Matthew 7:11 "If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"

Matthew 6:25-30 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?

Change ...

2011-03-22T18:52:00.005-04:00

His hand. The one I have held for nearly 20 years. I reached for each it ... for security ... to calm my pounding heart. Jerry and I ... our 3 boys ... we stood during worship at an unfamiliar place ... a different church. Doing something I somehow knew was going to happen but had managed to avoid for ... well ... too long. We were visiting a different church.

Change ...

It's not something I run after, desire ... enjoy. I'm a 'constant' kind of gal. I like things just the way they are and no 'rocking the boat' please. Anyone who knows me will tell you right away, I don't handle change gracefully. I fight it ... kicking ... screaming ... crying ... all the way.

Why? I could run off a list of reasons but for now I'll leave it at this ... Change means leaving the known and venturing out into the unknown. For me, that means ... leaving security. I have always been insecure. Thus, the screaming and crying when I am forced to leave security.

Now that you know that and I've let you in on a rather large flaw in my character, you'll be better able to understand why the last six weeks have been difficult for me ... my family. We've been 'visiting' a different church.

Seven weeks ago, Jerry and I had the longest, most spiritual discussion of our marriage (17 years). We shared a common desire to see changes in our boys (and in us). Was it church? A 'stand still' in spiritual growth? Not that we blamed or found fault in our long attended church or the people we love within the walls of that space ... there was just something moving us in a different direction. I believe ... sometimes God puts a disquiet in our hearts ... our spirits, so that we will be motivated to do something. Something He knows will bring us farther in our walk with Him ... closer to Him.

This choice wasn't made quickly ... it was not easy. I fought this change for months. I asked God for something else, something besides ... change. Each time I prayed, the answer was the same ... move ... change.

Seven weeks ... nearly two months ... I could say I feel lonely or separated but that would be a lie. I feel anything but those things. Somehow during this time of growth, I've learned to trust. I have realized my fear of change is really a lack of trust. And, I have been leaning on God's strength to get me through change. He's given me an incredible peace. I'm not sure where my family will land but I know He will be there waiting for us. As long as we trust Him and His guidance, He'll get us through. And ... right now, I am loving the people in this new space. They have welcomed our family of five without any reservations. I am left with a feeling that drowns all my insecurities.

Six weeks after that first Sunday ... I don't reach for Jerry's hand out of insecurity. There's no pounding in my heart associated with fear of the unknown. I reach for it because ... it feels right. This place ... feels right.

Daniel 2:21 "He changes times and seasons; he deposes kings and raises up others. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning."

Who I Please ...

2011-03-09T07:07:00.004-05:00

"Just do your best, James."

"I am, Mom. Cursive is really hard." A sigh of frustration.

"I know, but you can do it. I know you can." I look at him over the list of spelling words.

"Mom, I try really hard and she says she still can't read it!" Absolute frustration.

"James, today ... don't worry about pleasing the teacher. Think about doing your best and making me and Daddy proud. We are always proud of you as long as you're doing your best." I rough his dark brown hair and we move on with the next word.

James leans over the half full piece of writing paper, eyes focused on each letter working together for the end result of ... Missouri - in cursive.

Today is a spelling test for James. Each week, every Wednesday ... spelling test. He's improved so much in the past month. We start on Monday ... first recognizing the words, next printing the words, then ... cursive. James puts effort into each word, each test. My husband and I put effort into working with James, helping him as much as we can ... and ... it's never quite good enough. Not for his teacher. No matter the improvement, there are always negative remarks on James papers. And, he gets discouraged.

I give him the next word - mislead ... and I think ... This year is a learning experience for James. More than just academics, James is learning ... he can't please everyone ... every teacher ... every classmate. As hard as it is to watch him hurt ... watch him frustrated ... I know God will use this time in his 8 year old life to teach him valuable lessons.

And, God is using this time in James life to teach me ... to remind me ...

I do this ... every day. I get so wrapped up in pleasing other people ... I forget ... I'm supposed to be pleasing God. If I try to please people ... I fail. I know FROM EXPERIENCE. Every day ... I try to please my supervisor, my co-workers ... everyone from close friends to mere acquaintances.

Today, I am reminded ... I serve God with my works. As long as I am abiding in His word, abiding in Him ... living out the word living in me ... He is pleased with my best.

And ... THAT is what matters most.

Who are you pleasing today? Are you discouraged?

1st Corinthians 9:24 Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.

Fearless

2011-03-02T07:00:00.009-05:00

I stood at my patio window ... watching. A team of men, all working around the tree in my front yard. Our driveway was full of trucks, equipment and a tree service crew. What I wanted so much to avoid, was unavoidable. The tree damaged during a storm last summer ... had to come down.

Three weeks ago, a representative from the tree service stopped at our home and talked with us about the potential hazard of keeping the tree up. The one good branch left was hanging over power lines. If it were to split during another storm, it would fall directly onto the lines ... cutting off power to an entire town south of our home. Reluctantly, I signed the consent ... sometime during the next few weeks, they would cut and remove the tree.

Yesterday, I stayed home with one of our boys ... sick. Shortly after 9:00, I heard trucks growling and men yelling. One of the workers came to my front door, let me know of their plans and said ... "we'll have to climb this tree, there's no other way to bring it down." He didn't seem frustrated, just ... challenged.

Interested, I watched. Orange cones, large warning signs, loud grumblings from the wood chipper ... and then ... the smallest man among them came forward geared with ropes, links, clips and chain saw.

My tree towered over this man ... small in stature. He seemed lost in all the garb. I immediately thought of David ... among all the army, he was the smallest. Yet, he fearlessly ... faithfully ... approached Goliath. David had saved his father's flock from lions and bears. Each day, he cared for his father's livestock and faced different challenges.

For this worker, each tree is different. Each day, a new obstacle to overcome. He uses the equipment provided by his employer to take down the impending danger. Not once did I see him stall ... not once did he seem unsure. Completely on faith, he maneuvered up the tree, clipping ropes and links ... wrapping ropes and clipping again ... safety harnesses in place. Each time a branch was free and prepared to fall ... he would yell to his co-workers to be sure they were out of harms way ... then down it came with a thunder.

Again, he seemed as David. With all surety, David approached Goliath using only the sling and stones provided from his experience.

The rest of team scurried around gathering twigs and hauling to the wood chipper. A loud grumbling and evidence of the mess ... was gone. Everyone on the team had a job and they did it well ... Again, I thought of David and how each member of Saul's army played a key role in bringing down Goliath and bringing glory to God.

Today as you face trials of your own, remember how God equipped David with the tools he needed to pave the way for his destiny. Today, walk on faith ... fearless as you face each challenge. Trust the One who empowers the smallest in stature. Don't doubt your value in God's perfect plan.

1 Samuel 17 - "David and Goliath"

An Hour ...

2011-02-26T20:35:00.009-05:00

It's evening. Supper is done. Dishwasher hissing as it works away the evidence of a meal. Curled up beside me on the couch ... no tv ... no radio or game systems ... just me and James ... and ... a book. He squints his eyes. Thick dark lashes over chocolate brown eyes (just like his Daddy). James picks at the words. Some are easy, others difficult. I sound out the tough words. He repeats them and gains excitement with each sentence. Together, we're discovering the world of knights and castles.

I press my cheek against his mass of brown hair and I listen. James has reached chapter 7 ... Armor. "Armor was heavy ... hot ... hard to put on ... hard to take off. But, it was the best protection a knight could have when he went into battle." This book describes each piece of armor in detail ... what it was for ... how it was made ... why it was important. At the end of the chapter, two pages covered with pictures of a knight in armor and his horse. James reads the caption above the knight's picture ... "it could take over an hour for a knight to get dressed."

Every sentence, every word after that ... blurred. I was stuck on the idea of a knight spending an entire hour putting on his armor. Each piece somehow fit together with the other pieces to create an impenetrable exterior. An hour ... dressing to go into battle. That didn't include the years training to become a knight. That hour was just the armor.

James lets out a frustrated sigh. Lost in my thoughts, I missed his need for help with an unfamiliar word. "Heraldry" I sound it out slowly. He turns back to the book and I turn back to that hour ... James story reminded me of God's armor. In Ephesians 6, we are called to put on the full armor of God.

"10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. 11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. 12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. "

As Christians, our time spent with God and spent in His word is like the knight dressing for battle. An hour. If a knight spent that amount of time dressing for battle, surely I should spend the same (if not more) preparing ... dressing for my daily battle against the things of this world. But, sometimes ... I don't. I let my busy schedule, my crazy mornings ... get in the way of my time in The Word. Some mornings, I hurry through my daily devotional ... not letting the words soak into my heart. I don't take time to put on the armor He provides. I race around stuffing lunches into totes, folders into back packs, double checking pockets for toys ... another cup of coffee and 5 minutes of local news.

Today, I'm still thinking about that one sentence. I'm working on my schedule. My morning routines. I'm trying to find a way for more time in His word and less time racing. I'm not sure I'll ever find an hour to spend in His word each morning. I hope I find that hour. But, I know I need more than I have right now.

How much time do you spend preparing for battle?

She Dances

2011-02-15T18:52:00.006-05:00

Tomorrow, they'll wheel her down a narrow hallway. Doctors and nurses will take her to place her parents can't follow ... surgery. She'll disappear into an ocean of white sheets and heart monitors. My sister and her husband will watch the hospital cart vanish ... along with a piece of their hearts ... their little girl, Hope.

If you've hung around my blog enough, you know I have 5 amazing kids in my life. My three boys and my 2 girls (my nieces). The youngest of my nieces, Hope, was born with Treacher Collins Syndrome (TCS). Over the past year, she has gone through multiple surgeries to gain her desire ... ears. Tomorrow is another step toward 'cute ears' as she puts it. The process is painful. This time, she's scared ... more than on other surgery days. She's prepared for the pain ... but ... leaving mommy and daddy ... she's afraid of that this time. She'll get through, she always does. Mary (my sister) and her husband will get through it. They always do. Hope's older sister, Alex ... she'll get through ... she always does. Sometimes, I think ... I forget her ... Alex.

And, her courage. She does what many of us couldn't do as adults. Alex will spend the day away from her parents and sister. Alex will go to school ... she'll stay there all day ... trying to pretend her world isn't several hours away. Pretending that things are normal and ... she'll worry. She'll wait for the call ... my sister calls the school and leaves a message ... just so Alex knows everything is ok and sis is done in surgery.

Alex is an amazing girl. She's rapidly approaching the teens ... holding on to childhood with one hand but stretching to reach the independence of a teenager with the other. She's quiet (when she doesn't know you well). She's all bright colors, red hair and blue eyes. And, she dances.

Since the day Alex could toddle around, she has been dancing. It's her passion. Out there on the stage, caught up in a song full of emotion ... she tells her story with fluid motion. She's an artist painting a picture on the stage. All her fears, excitement and dreams ... Alex pours them out like brushstrokes on canvas. And ... I admire her. Her courage.

Alex and I ... we have something in common. Tomorrow, we'll each be separate from our sisters. I'll be at work ... waiting for the call that says ... Mary is ok. Alex will be at school ... waiting for the call that says ... Hope is ok.

Only ... I wish I had half her courage. Her strength.

Is there a child in your life ... one you admire? Tell them. Let them know ... you see them ... you see their courage and strength.

1 Corinthians 16:13 "Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong."

On the Outside ...

2011-01-06T07:18:00.006-05:00

This past summer I blogged about a storm our house fell victim to ... suffering some nasty damage. After that storm, we went through a battle with our insurance company. The battle ... me wanting the best coverage on my investment and the insurance company paying as little as possible.

After the insurance battle, my husband and I spent a month pricing materials and labor and ... everything. We made the decision to do the labor ourselves ... save money. Jerry's brother-in-law spent nearly every weekend this summer helping us re-side our home (shout out to him, our blessing). Jerry, our oldest son, my dad (thank you, dad for your constant willingness to help) and I spent every weekend tearing off our old deck and building the new deck.

Jerry and I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into ... we have never been the "handy man" types. But ... we learned. Jerry took on the challenge and worked hard. It was difficult, frustrating ... we would snap at each other in aggravation and then apologize later ... knowing it was out of confusion, weakness.

Evenings after work, we tried to keep up with the normal summer activities ... mowing the lawn, planting the trees we purchased earlier in the summer, baseball games, trips to and from Menards and Lowes for building materials. Each night, we fell into our bed ... totally drained from the work. Busy, exhausting ... worth it.

At the end of summer, our home looked beautiful. Our hard work paid off ... sitting on our deck, enjoying the late summer evenings ... priceless. Then ... fall came swooping in with cool nights and we were forced inside.

That's when I noticed it ... the inside ... the neglected inside. While we were busy working on the storm damage, I avoided my normal summer cleaning ... ceiling fans, windows, storm doors, closets ... all these things I usually do during the summer. The warmer months for me are a time to open all the windows, let in the fresh breeze ... empty closets and separate keep from don't keep, fresh coat of paint where needed, windows scrubbed and shiny ...

This summer, I didn't do ANY of those things. And, it was waiting for me when I came inside from my summer long storm repair. I was frustrated. That's how I am. I do not like clutter, dirt, dust ... cobwebs ... stuff. When it's there, I get anxious.

Since the fall, I have been spending weekends catching up ... and, I have spent time thinking about how this relates to my spiritual life. All too often in today's society, we invest hours in our outward appearance. Later we find a mess on the inside. While we've been busy making our outward self beautiful and acceptable by the "World's" standards, our inward self has become unacceptable by our Father's standards.

I've done this. Too often. I work in an environment where appearance is important. I make sure my hair is fixed, make up on, clothes pressed and in good taste. Acceptable. I use the excuse that my employer deems it important (and, it is) ... but, I spend more time in that pursuit than in the pursuit of inward beauty.

Years ago, I found this passage ...1st Peter 3:3-4 "Do not let your adornment be merely outward - arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel - rather let it be the hidden person of the heart with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God." And, it came to mind as I cleaned out my youngest son's closet.

I'm on a mission, repair the storm damage on the inside. Dive into the Word. Ask Him what needs repair and be prepared to spend hours on that repair. I won't know what I'm doing half the time. I'll learn things about myself I didn't know before. I'll come away from the repairs with new found knowledge. It's busy, exhausting ... worth it.

What Matters Most ... ?

2010-12-23T01:22:00.005-05:00

My son and I had talked over something. Something important to me ... small to him, but big for me. Something small, simple. Something only a parent would really, truly appreciate. All three of my boys are growing up. I want to do everything I can for them while I can. Even the simple things. Sure, they will always need me but ... not in the same way. Not the way a minor child needs his mother. So, if I have a chance to do something for them ... I want to do it.

I had asked him ... let me do this ... and, he didn't let me.

His choice hurt me. He did something I asked him not to do ... I made it clear ... there could have been no misunderstanding my desires. I came home and found he had done it anyway. And ... it hurt.

I asked him, "Why would you do that, when I asked you not to?"

His response. "I don't know, I guess I just didn't think it through." I could see he felt badly.

My husband and I give our boys ... everything. Well, everything possible. All the toys, video games, cell phones ... time with us and time with their friends. For me, his choice felt like he didn't care about my feelings ... but, he still wanted all the things I can provide for him.

And, I thought ...

What if all you had was me? What if there were no gifts, riches, blessings ... just me? Would you want me without those things?

I left the room. I needed time to think. I went to the one place a woman can go in a house full of men and be ... alone. I took a hot shower and talked to God. As a parent, I've always tried to take each 'new lesson' with my boys and learn something. So, I cried and asked Him ... what can I learn? And ... He told me. Clearly.

I remembered a sermon our pastor gave a few weeks ago. It was based on the Prodigal Son. For me, the Prodigal Son has always held redemption. It is a message of absolute forgiveness from my Father. No matter my sins, shortcomings, failures ... He will always love me and take me back into his arms. But, our pastor put a different 'light' on the story. He said ... "what matters most ... the relationship or the blessings?"

At the beginning of the parable, the Prodigal Son is more interested in his father's wealth. He wants all the 'pleasure' his father can give ... all the gifts, riches, treasures. By the end of the story, the son has learned ... the relationship ... the love between him and his father ... THAT is priceless.

God gives us tremendous blessings, gifts, treasures ... so much more than we deserve. And ... sometimes, I let those things become more important than .... Him. More important than my time with Him and my ... relationship with him. I don't think through my choices. I don't consider how my choices might make Him feel. Something as small as my morning devotions. My 30 minutes with Him at the beginning of each day. It's simple really. But ... He wants that from me. When I don't give it to Him ... it causes Him pain.

What matters most to you ... the blessings or the Man?

Thank you, my son. For teaching me something I needed so very much to learn.

Luke 15:11-32 ... "The Parable of the Lost Son"

Fish Out of Water

2010-11-04T06:13:00.002-04:00

Panama City Beach, sunshine, ocean waves ... we took some time for us. Family. Playing in the clear water. Sandcastles. Seashells. Splashing. Toes in the sand.

Jerry's brother-in-law generously gave us a week long vacation on the ocean front.Each morning, we watched the sunrise from our 14th floor balcony. At that height, you can see all the sea life in their daily routine. Dancing in the morning sunshine. Stingrays. Jellyfish. Sharks. It was amazing to watch God's creation ... in action.

On one morning, Jerry and I watched through binoculars as a man fished in the not-yet-busy ocean. There had been several sharks the prior morning. We knew he was trying his hand at catching one. Sure enough, he did. After removing the small specimen from his hook, the fisherman walked casually from the shoreline and showed off his catch. All the while, this fish was flopping, tossing, turning ... anything to escape its captor. After several minutes of laughter and joy from the few spectators out in the early morning, he tossed it back into the surf.

Jerry immediately said, he kept it out too long. Later that morning, I understood his statement.

The shark floated ... dead ... in the calm waters where the man had tossed it.

Our sons enjoyed the 'close up' look at a 'real' shark. Our youngest held it from the tail and stroked the rubbery skin. It truly was a beautiful creature.

As I snapped this picture ... I found myself comparing Christians to that shark. Humans are amazing creations. When rescued by salvation, we begin a life with God. Our walk with Him could be compared to the shark's life in the ocean. It's incredible how God provides the exact environment sharks need in order to survive. He does that for us. Naturally, the ocean has predators that might bring harm to the shark. But, it's all within the natural process created by God. Our walk in salvation might bring us into difficult situations, pain even. Again, each are within the care of our Father.

But ... what happens if we are pulled from that environment? From the safety of God's perfect place where all our needs are met and our life is sustained in His grace?

The world does that to us ... to Christians. It hooks us ... with sin. It pulls us out of the God given environment and if we don't 'see it for what it is (sin), than we are in danger of death. The eternal death ... separation from Christ.

While it was amazing to view that small shark from a close vantage, it was also sad. Sad to see how quickly the careless fisherman's choice had taken the life of a magnificent creature. I was reminded of my need of forgiveness, a closer walk with Christ and the constant submersion in an environment created just for me by my Father.

Romans 12:2 "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will."

Facing Fear

2010-10-10T18:28:00.007-04:00

I faced fear this weekend. I went flying.

Yes, I'm 35 years old and never set foot on an airplane until this past weekend.

The idea was first discussed last Christmas. Pam and her husband sat with Jerry and me ... and another couple we are good friends with... all of us sitting at our annual Christmas party in 2009. We all talked about our lives and family ... that was the first time I discovered Pam and Don owned an airplane. They made a small comment of ... "you guys should join us" ... and I believe I said ... "I don't fly." Up to this weekend, I've found legitimate excuses as to why we couldn't go on the flight. We were working on our house, taking the boys to a movie, sporting events, family get togethers ... I was scared. I am deathly afraid of heights. Thus, any ol' reason for not accepting their invitation would do. I guess I thought if I kept saying "no, sorry we're busy" ... she might get tired of asking and stop. That way, I could continue on my present course of NEVER riding in an airplane. I could let my fear win.

On Saturday morning, Pam asked me ... "Are you guys busy this evening, we're flying to dinner? Can you come?"

I quickly went over every possible reason I could decline ... nothing. Football practice was the night before, no family dinners scheduled, no movies to take the boys to ... Nothing.

I called Jerry and he agreed. He had been looking forward to this for a year. Each time I declined their invitation, he would ask why ... seriously ... he knows why. I'm a big chicken.

At 5:30 p.m., I faced my fear. I sat behind Don as he piloted the plane. Jerry sat beside him and Pam beside me. I was great. We made the round and I was surprised at how calm I was ... then ... the plane left the ground. I grabbed Pam's left hand and squeezed. My stomach lurched, my eyes closed, the air left my lungs and I couldn't find blessed breath no matter how hard I gulped. An odd tingling sensation burned my chest ... it felt as if a caged bird resided beneath my ribs rather than a human heart.

Then, I heard Pam's quiet voice ... "It's ok, you're doin' great." She rubbed my hand in hers and talked about the scenery. She told me all the things I missed with my eyes tightly shut. I sat fixed in that position for the first 25 minutes of our 30 minute flight. I think I may have even asked Don to turn the plane around at some point ... said, I can't do this please go back. I might have given a couple of tears life 2000 feet above earth. Still, Pam held my hand and talked me through ... each aspect of God's creation expanding beneath the plane. Finally, I opened my eyes and watched as a hot air balloon bobbled to the left of our view.

Pam's fingers probably went numb somewhere between our little farm town and the middle of Indy. But, she never complained. Never said anything beyond soothing words of encouragement.

Rick's Boatyard was an amazing destination for dinner. I ate Maryland Crab Cakes on frenchbread with a healthy supply of Joe's mustard. I even faced my fear of mushrooms and found they really aren't too bad when stuffed with crabmeat and smothered in cheese. Actually ... They Rock!

I surprised myself by keeping my eyes open longer on the ride home. The lights were amazing from the lofty view above earth. Our little town is not as small when looking at it from an airplane ... it actually looks like a well thought out map of fields, woods, houses and rivers.

I'm glad I faced my fear. While floating ... I thought of the sensation I had felt on our departure ... of Pam's reassuring words and patience. How this adventure could relate to all fears. Any fears. There are all kinds of fear. We each have our "comfort zone." An area we feel absolutely safe and free of discomfort. I've heard it said more than once ... "step out of your comfort zone" ... "live outside the box." We all know ... fear waits outside that comfort zone ... outside that box. If you're at all like me ... you're ok with the comfort zone, ok with the inside of that familiar box.

But ... what happens if God is calling from outside the comfort zone ... from outside that nice box you've grown to love and accept? Then what? What makes you leave the comfort? What makes you open the box and find out what's waiting beyond the familiar space? Maybe your a teenager living in a small town and wondering if you have the courage to leave and try something new beyond graduation. Maybe your struggling to face that person who wronged you ... you're not good at confrontation and the thought of talking to that person is frightening. It could be that you're afraid of starting a new job or a new marriage ... new baby, new school ... old friends, old school ...

What made me leave the comfort zone of "two feet on the ground"? Pam ... Pam and my patient husband. Pam and her pilot.

She could've given up on me. She could have asked someone else to take that flight on Saturday evening. Let me remain captive to the fear of flying. But, she didn't ... she gently reminded me of God's control and of God's beauty. I liked it best when she said ... "isn't it amazing how God gave man the intelligence to build a plane ... to let us see His creation from this height?"

What words of comfort are you speaking to a brother or sister in Christ? Are you giving them strength to face fears and to take steps toward God's will in their lives?

Thank you Pam and Don ... for being patient and willing. Thank you for the amazing experience of flight. For sharing your plane and Saturday evening. You are a blessing to me and Jerry.

Competition

2010-10-05T07:08:00.004-04:00

My husband is a competitive person. Jerry is crazy about sports .... always has been probably always will be. When I first met him (20 years ago), he played basketball and softball. I loved watching him play and I loved watching him win. That's what sports are all about, right? Winning?

This summer, my husband received an email from our community football league administrator. He asked Jerry to coach a team of 1st through 3rd graders. Knowing the league from our middle boy's sport involvement, my husband was very much aware the league was not about winning. Our community league puts the focus on every child playing every position. There is no score board ... only the scoreboard in the minds of parents and players. That was going to be tough, especially for a guy with a normal focus on winning.

At the first practice, Jerry saw the talent in some kids and the weakness of others. He knew right away the position placement that would win each and every game. That's how Jerry is, that's his strength. He thinks things through from every angle and then knows the best way to achieve the desired outcome. He saw the talent ... and, he made the choice he was called to make. He worked with the kids to be sure everybody was playing in all positions, rotating in and out. Jerry took on this challenge because he realized there was an opportunity to give each child a chance to enjoy sports. After all, they're young. Those with oodles of talent will have multiple opportunities to play lead positions as they get older. We've played several games now and each one has been tough. But ... rewarding. Jerry has said the kids smiles are the best ... he loves knowing some of those kids have been given an opportunity they've never had before ... might never have again.

And ... no one has made this easy for him. I've sat on the sidelines and listened as parents complain that the team isn't winning and that their children aren't getting to play the lead positions. I'm not "downing" those parents. I know where they're coming from ... I've been a parent on the bleachers watching in frustration at other sporting events. So, I understand. It's hard and it's not always fun. But, imagine what it would be like if each parent pulled the plug on the scoreboard in their mind. If their child playing the "choice" position wasn't the most important aspect of the game ...

As Christians, I think we make this same mistake in our everyday life. We don't always make it easy for our brothers and sisters in Christ to make the right decision, the tough decision. I'm guilty of this ... when I overhear a piece of "gossip", a co-worker complaining ... someone talking about the failures and flaws of another person ... sometimes, I take part in those conversations.

If I've learned anything from Jerry's coaching experience this season, it's to encourage not discourage. To make right choices easier not harder.

Ephesians 4:25 "Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to his neighbor, for we are all members of one body."

Consolidation

2010-10-03T15:00:00.006-04:00

"What's your favorite color?"

It's one of those questions we ask our kids. Maybe even an "ice breaker question" you ask a child you're babysitting for the first time or the quiet one you have in your kindergarten class on the first day of school.

Their answers vary. It depends on their "eye". The color that appeals especially to them. It doesn't mean the other colors are ugly ... just different. Put a Crayola 46 pack in front of the child and they gravitate to their favorite.

I'm an artist. I love drawing faces and adding colored pencils to bring those portraits to life. If someone asked me my favorite color, well that wouldn't be an easy question to answer. You see, I can't get the exact creamy complexion on a face without mixing colors. The brown hue in a child's hair, that takes lots of time and color blending. And the eyes ... well, even if they are blue or green ... you can never match the exact shade with just one color ... it's all in the blending. I know from years of blending colors, the exact measure of each individual color will achieve the perfect completion. Something pleasing to the eye and spirit. So, I don't really have a favorite. I need them all to get the end product I desire.

Think of all the colors mixed together in an ocean sunset. Or, everything it takes to put the flush in a child's face. There is no one color capable of portraying those things.

Blue, Red, Yellow ... Primary colors.

Green, Orange, Purple ... Secondary colors. You can't get these colors without the primary colors.

Tomorrow, our local elementary school will go through a "first". Consolidation. Our sixth grade class will welcome another elementary school's 6th grade students and ... they'll blend. Both schools are small and the "ties that bind" run deep on both sides. It'll be hard to find the right mixture ... the right blend.

This news was made public just last week and you can imagine ... there were lines drawn and sides taken from both schools. Some parents and kids were excited. The school coming in brought good friends. Others didn't want this change ... especially those students making the big move to a new school. They're afraid, nervous ... apprehensive ...

What if no one likes them? What if there isn't any room at the lunch table (anybody seen Diary of a Wimpy Kid? this is a valid concern). What if I get lost or the teacher doesn't like me or I don't understand the assignments ... the list is long .... And, understandable.

A child I love will be affected by this consolidation. And, her mother has done everything possible to ease the worry, fears and misgivings. From where I sit, this mother is sending her beautiful blue into a sea of red ... it's kind of scary. But, I think they'll both find out the end result is something good ... purple ...

That's just my feeling. My way of looking at the situation. I see it as an opportunity ... a chance to try something new. Sure, it's scary ... new things are always at least a little scary.

Tomorrow morning, I'll be praying for all those 6th graders, the teachers and parents. And, someday ... I think we'll all look back on this day and know that good things came from this blending.

Genesis 1:31 "And God saw all that He had made and it was very good."

Darkness

2010-09-24T20:23:00.005-04:00

Middle of the night, the house moans from the blowing wind. The dog is settled on our oldest boys bed. No television buzzing. No music. No running and racing of three boys. Just quiet. My husband and I lay sleeping at the opposite end of the house ... but, I hear him. I always hear him when he calls my name.

"Mama! Come here!"

Somewhere in the 3:13 a.m. shadows, there's a monster. One brought to life by the imagination of a six year old boy.

"I'm here." I pull the sheets away from his head and find his round eyes, thick with dark lashes and tears.

I kiss him, reassure him. There are no monsters here. I tuck him in and leave the hallway light on for extra comfort.

4:00 a.m.

"Mama! Please!"

Again, I trip over school bags and toys ... find my way to his bed and ... again ... "It's ok, I'm here."

"Mama, stay for a while. The monsters don't come when you're here." He turns on his side and peeks at me from under the sheets.

"Why is that?" I whisper and pat his warm back.

"I think they're scared of you." He closes big brown eyes and hugs the sheet tighter around his shoulders.

I stay. Longer. I rub his back and whisper soothing words. His breathing is slow, steady. I tip toe out. Soon, it will be time for the alarm to ring ... time for work and school and ... I'm tired. Worn thin. I'll be tired at work. The dark circles under my eyes will give away my restless night.

But, I would do it again. To let him know he is loved. To make sure he feels safe.

And, I think.

Jesus comes when I call. No matter the day or time. He comes and chases away the monsters. All my worries, fears. They're afraid of Him. And, I ask Him to stay. Stay longer. He does. I know I must exhaust Him with my cries. But, He never tires of giving me peace, safety.

Ephesians 6:10-13 "Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand."

If I Could ...

2010-09-09T20:02:00.005-04:00

If I could, I would ... I would trade places with him ... take this from him.

Being the mom of three boys means ...

Knowing a lumpy pocket on the way out the door for school means our 8 year old is packing something ... something he's not supposed to take. Usually an army guy or legos. He doesn't put it in his back pack because ... he knows I'll check there ... so, in the pocket it goes.

It means knowing my 16 year old will forget to take his dog out EVERY morning. I'll remind him and he'll say ... "wow, sorry ... guess I forgot" ... for the hundredth time.

It means knowing our third boy will have growing pains just like his older brothers. Warm showers. Hot rice packs. Motrin. He'll be fine.

But ... last week ... he wasn't fine.

Monday after school, there were odd looking red dots all over his tiny legs. He's little for his age ... the dots looked like a classmate used a red marker to create polka dots. My husband and I agreed ... most likely chiggers. He had played outside in the wet grass on Saturday morning. Just chiggers. By Tuesday night, the dots were near blisters in appearance and he was having pains in his joints. Growing pains, just growing pains. Then, there was his tummy ... sick all the time. Just a sick tummy from drainage ... he'd had a cold the week before and was still a little stuffy. Wednesday night came, that's when I started to worry ... worry that all my "mommy experience" wasn't quite good enough. We'd been out playing in the yard, a fun afternoon and evening ... then showers for the little boys. That's when I noticed it ... his left wrist was swelling and his right ankle ... swelling. The dots were now bruises and he complained of his tummy hurting. Tears. Lots of tears. After 16 years of "diagnosing" little boy fevers, aches, pains and the occasional "I'm not feelin' good enough to go to school" sickies ... I was lost. I had NO idea.

We called the ER to talk with our pediatrician. The "on call" wasn't too worried, even though I was about to fall apart. My 6 year old wouldn't walk and the pediatrician was content to have our son take Motrin and Benadryl. We did what the doctor suggested ... I trusted he knew what he was doing. We made an appointment to see him the next morning. I went to work and my husband took our son to the doctor. Two hours later ...

HSP (Henoch-Schonlein Purpura). My husband told me the doctor knew what the symptoms meant ... immediately. Inflammation of the blood vessels. This causes a rash looking appearance under the skin. The rash becomes worse ... larger rash ... sometimes breaking open. The swelling joints ... severe pain and bruising. This part is painful. The pediatrician told my husband ... our son's complaints of pain and a sick tummy were very real and the pain was VERY real. The only thing we could do was give him Motrin. The condition could last up to 6 weeks. They ran tests on his urine and blood ... precaution. To be sure his kidneys were "safe" and other concerns ... nothing. Only the rash, swelling and sick tummy.

SIX WEEKS ... six weeks ... I would have to watch our boy go through these stages (symptoms) again and again ... over and over again, for 6 weeks.

A week later, the rash is beginning to heal. His body is going through the stages. His joints aren't as swollen ... they're healing. Bruises have formed all over his joints ... large nasty, painful looking ... but, that means there is healing. The worst right now ... his tummy is very sick. He's fine during the day. But, at night ... at night he cries and curls up in my bed ... my husband and I talk him through it. We let him stay with us ... normally ... no staying in "mommy and daddy's bed". But, now ... we let him stay.

And, we would both take it from him if we could.

Last night as I tried to find a comfortable spot in my bed ... a spot at the very edge while my 6 year old tossed and turned in the middle ... I thought ... God feels that way about me.

God would take my hurt and pain ... and ... He did. He sent His Son ... to take away the ultimate pain of sin. And, somehow ... I can't explain it ... this feeling of absolute love and gratitude came over me. To know that God feels that much love for me ... to know that the love I have for my boys is huge but God's love for me ... for all of us ... it's bigger. I can't begin to imagine that kind of love because well ... I can't believe there is a love greater, deeper ... bigger than the love I have for my children. But, there is ... there is a love beyond measure.

John 3:16 "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son,[a] that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."

Those Shoes Stink!

2010-08-30T06:31:00.005-04:00

They're worn and dirty from the ballfield. He's tired and smelly. As I wash his shirt and pants, and send him off to the shower, I realize ... it's good to get it all out. The white pants are bright ... bright because I take the time to pre-wash and leave set with stain remover. The shirt is a bright blue with bright red letters. You wouldn't have guessed there was anything bright a few hours ago. That shirt was smeared with mud from second base. The letters were dusty from home plate. Then, I put his cleats in the closet. Right where he'll look for them when it's game time. And ... they smell. They smell of sweat and dust, grass and spilled gatorade. And, I think ... I'm glad I don't have to wear those ... those things stink. I wouldn't want to play in those shoes.

I've talked to the other "Baseball Moms" and it's always the same. Yes, my kids uniform is a mess. But, we share tips on how to get those tough stains out and ways to help with the smelly shoes.

Life is like that baseball uniform. We all have a uniform. We're given that outfit on the day of our birth and we wear it out. Especially the shoes. Our shirts get splattered with words and tears. The pants are covered with stains and worn from falling down. The shoes, they're near falling apart by the time we find a resting place. The soles give away the bases we've run ... whether by choice or force. Sometimes, they carry reminders of hurt and at other times ... a reminder of something good. At the end of the day, would anyone else want to wear our shoes? Would anyone want to walk in our shoes? Is there someone with enough love to put them on and walk around?

As brothers and sisters in Christ, we are called to bear one another's burdens, to come along side and lift up the hurting broken spirit. And, sometimes, we have to put on their shoes to do what's been asked of us. And ... all the time, that hurts. And ... all the time, we have to say yes. We can't say ... I'm done. I won't anymore.

How can I say your uniform is too messy to be worn? I wouldn't think of putting on your stinky shoes just to know where you've played and what pain the games have caused you?

I can't say no ... because God's given me a picture of my uniform. The one I have after a long day at work. When I am exhausted and disappoint myself and my family. The shirt that's covered with the splatter of mean words. The ones that fall from my own mouth. My pants that have stains from tripping up ... yet again. The shoes, the ones that smell from all the wrong bases I've taken. Yeah, my uniform is just as messy as the next player. And, I would want someone to look at my uniform and say ... yeah, I'll wear it. Regardless of where you've been or what you've done ... no matter how smelly your shoes are ... I'll walk in those, I'll play in those.

The best thing about that dirty uniform ... we can put it in the wash. We can ask God to make it bright again. That doesn't mean there aren't reminders of past games. The good games and the bad games ... we remember them. But, God ... well He uses all those games to make us better players.

Meet you on the ball diamond ... bring your messiest uniform ... it'll match mine. We can trade tips on how to get the stains out and what works best to patch the worn places.

Ephesians 4:1-6 "As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to one hope when you were called— one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all."

Running Bases

2010-06-22T21:38:00.007-04:00

James is only eight ... far from the Big Leagues and seemingly just as far from T-Ball days. He's not the quickest player on the team. So, he has to make up for that in other areas.

Running the bases is hard to learn. Believe it or not ... there's a system to the game. A system to making each play and being where you need to be at just the right moment.

But, it's also a game of chance. At least, that's the way I see it from my seat on the bleachers. As I watch the kids bat, run to first, take second, steal third and slide into home plate ... I see it as chance. Where will the ball be hit ... how hard, how far, how high ... and, who will be waiting there to catch it, field it and through it in to the bases?

Last week, James was on 2nd base ... watching the batter on home plate. That's what the players have been taught. And, for the most part, they follow that guidance. Watch the batter, as soon as metal and ball meet ... RUN! Then, keep your eyes on the base coach. The base coach tells you where to go ... stop on the plate or round it and keep on RUNNING! James did that ... waited, ran ... and then, looked back. He looked back at second base. He was looking for safety. The ball was hit right down the middle of 2nd and 3rd base. James had to leave 2nd so the next runner could move up but he couldn't make it to 3rd ... not when the ball was right there and the baseman was waiting to tag him out. So, he looked back and turned around ... trying to find a way around the baseman holding the ball. No luck, he was out.

After the inning, James coach gave him some pointers ... reminded James of their practice and to not look back.

Don't. Look. Back.

Sometimes, I feel like James did in that moment. Stuck between bases. I want to move forward. I want to look directly into the eyes of the Base Coach and RUN ... I want to know what it feels like to slide safely into home plate ... but, something holds me back. Leaving the safety of the base I'm on, that's a little scary. I step off the base and run forward but then I start to worry. So, I look back. Instead of trusting the Base Coach, I let my doubts and fears steal bases in my heart ... in my life. I'm sure there have been times when I've missed out on blessings and maybe even some home runs ... all because of my fears.

What about you ... do you look back?

Philippians 3:14 "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus

2010-06-18T14:34:00.004-04:00

This post is from a very dear friend. When she shared this with me, I knew immediately that I needed to share it here on my blog.

The story I have for you is from this last weekend. I got one of those realizations that you often talk about. I was feeding my granddaughter a jar of green beans. We were not at her house so we did not have a highchair, we were just sitting on the floor where she usually does very well at being still while being fed. There was too much activity in the living room where we were sitting. Other people and a dog, especially the dog! So her attention was not focused on me (or rather the food!). She kept turning her head at the moment I was trying to put the food in her mouth and getting green beans all over her face. She was making a mess!

When I would wipe her face she would get so mad! I looked at my 9 month old granddaughter and said, “If you would quit looking away from me and pay attention, you would not be making such a mess of yourself!” no sooner than it was out of my mouth that I realized that God has told me the very same thing.

A few years ago, one of my more favorite parts of scripture is where Jesus walks on water, especially when Jesus tells Peter to come out to him. Peter is doing great until he sees the wind and the waves. He took his eyes off of Jesus and started to sink into the water. Peter cries out and “Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. ‘You of little faith" he said "Why did you doubt?"

So if keep your eyes on Jesus…you will not make a mess of yourself! Just remember if you do look away from him, cry out to him and his hand will be there to catch you…immediately!

Matthew 14:25-31 "During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."

"Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water."

"Come," he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?"

The Storm

2010-06-09T14:12:00.009-04:00

I watched from the kitchen window as a portion of my childhood split and fell.

The storm came from a seeming nowhere. It was Friday night, we had just been at the ballpark and enjoyed a game played by my eight year old son. The sky had been overcast but nothing to suggest a storm with 70 mile per hour winds was heading our way.

By the time we got into the house, sprinkles were scattering dry deck boards. Soon after, the winds came ... blowing everything out of place.

Moments later, hail made its precense known on my roof. And then ... the lightening. I'm not usually unsettled by storms. Most of them come and go leaving only a few tree branches here or there. This one ... it was different.

The massive oak tree in our front yard ... the one that shades my deck in the August heat and shelters our home from December winds ... it split in half. A mighty wind tore it apart and left a mess in my front yard. I watched it ... the wind tearing apart what I love. That tree was planted by my ancestors. It's given shade and comfort to generations of our family. Now ... now, it's not the same. This one half still standing, it doesn't look right all by itself. It's beautiful, large and healthy ... but it needs the other half to be a whole. The insurance adjustor came and left ... leaving the figures ... what is my tree worth and how much will it cost to remove ... to clean up what's left ... $150. The adjustor asked if I had any questions ... questions ... no, I'm just mad about my tree.

You can't put a price tag on shelter, shade, comfort ... history.

That's not all we lost this weekend. Saturday, a car accident took the earthly life of someone we hold very close. Theda ... a friend of our family and a portion of my childhood passed from here and into the sweet hereafter. There isn't enough space in a small blog to write all the moments she and her family touched. I knew her from church, when I was a little girl. Theda and her husband, Bob, were friends of my parents. We spent time at their home ... my sister and me ... dancing to Donnie and Marie Osmond records, sleeping on the "hide-a-bed" and eating popcorn.

Theda played piano on the day I was married. She and Bob came to my home and rocked my babies when they were newborns. Just this past February, I was ill and Theda brought supper.

And, now there is Bob. One half ... still beautiful and special but not the same. I feel as if the Dawes' were torn apart ... one fallen and the other remains. Just like Theda, Bob is a portion of my childhood. They can not be replaced. Nothing can make the empty space seem whole.

I know life is not about waiting for the storm to pass ... but, learning to dance in the rain. Over the past week, I feel like I have been waiting for a storm to pass. I can't imagine how her family is living through this storm.

I should have been dancing in the rain. Remembering all the special times shared with Bob and Theda .... their children ... all the special people from my childhood.

These are the reasons I am dancing in the rain ...

Donnie and Marie Osmond records playing while my sister and I danced on the rug in Bob and Theda's kitchen.

Slumber parties on my parents bed, watching The Wizard of Oz with Brenda and Alecia Peas.

Sunrise Easter Service at the Methodist church, all our friends watching in the dawning sunlight.

And there are so many more.

Why are you dancing in the rain?

1 King 19:11-12 "Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper."

He's Sick

2010-05-20T20:26:00.004-04:00

I know him. I know the feel of his forehead against the back of my hand ... the temperature that says "he's fine" and then the hot to the touch that says "he's sick." Something's not right. The purple color under his brown eyes tells me ... he's tired ... exhausted.

Sunday started the same as most, me up first and ready for church ... then the boys tumbled out of bed and into nicer clothes than school days. Their hair all rumpled from late Saturday night video games ... I left it ... a little lazy myself from a later than usual bedtime. Jerry and I had gone to see "Letters to Juliet" and gotten home late. Somewhere in the midst of our Sunday morning rush, I know James mumbled his head hurt. I ignored it, thought it was just a ploy to ride along with his Daddy for work. I ushered him to church and then ... the teacher came to get me during Sunday School hour. And, I knew.

I had been wrong. It wasn't a ploy. No made up illness in an effort to get something he wanted. We drove straight home and I took his temperature ... 102. James curled up on the couch ... and ... didn't move. He stayed there all afternoon and into the evening. Each time I checked, he was worse and then there were tears.

"I hate being sick, Mommy. I hate bein' sick like this." His voice was getting scratchy.

"I know baby, but you'll feel better soon." Again ... I was wrong again.

James wasn't better soon. In fact, he's still sick today. Tuesday, the doctor said he would be fine. But, I was worried. I got up in the night to check his skin ... hot, cold or lukewarm. I stood at his doorway and listened ... was his breathing steady or labored. I checked the thermostat, made sure it wasn't too cold. Jerry and I forced liquids and stood over him to be sure he drank enough. We administered the antibiotics and waited ... waited for his strength and spirit to boost.

And, I wondered ... how much we were like Christ. He watches for the symptoms and signs that tell Him we're ill ... our spirits are falling away, drifting in exhaustion. He stays with us and waits. He administers the peace, mercy and rest we need to gain our strength.

And ... if I love my son enough to get up in the middle of night, stand exhausted at his doorway ... how much more will Christ do for me? For each of us?

Matthew 7:11 "If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!
"

Did She Know?

2010-04-27T07:18:00.004-04:00

She was 17 ... 17 filled with so much promise. I never had the pleasure of knowing her.

From what I've been told ... she was easy to love. The sound of her footsteps outside the door were identifiable ... unlike any other visitor walking up to the door. She was a good friend, one of the best. And, she was killed in a car accident ... at just 17.

Lisa was a best friend to Cindi's daughter. Cindi is my friend. Lisa spent enough time under their roof to be called family. Enough nights under their roof that she had her own bed.

When she passed away, my friend spent much time ministering to the heart of her family ... her husband, daughter and son. Lisa's passing left a gaping hole ... a great divide. When someone is so entwined in your everyday ... it can't be any other way. You have to find the way to fill that void, that hurt and all over ache. The painful silence of ... no Lisa. You might stop and listen, thinking you hear that special someones foot fall outside your door ... but then ... you remember, that's not possible. And, the pain starts again.

After ministering to her family for some time, Cindi felt God's presence ... He came to her when everything started to slip through her fingers. He came and caught what fell ... her tears. For Cindi, Lisa was like another daughter ... she grieved the loss and the pain her own daughter felt at the passing of a best friend.

And ... then she began to question. Don't we all after someone passes?

This past Sunday, at church, Cindi stood up and challenged others to share their pleasure in someone, to tell them you love them, tell them how much they mean to you ... tell them, tell them ... don't stop telling them ... because tomorrow isn't a guarantee. You have this moment. Take it.

Cindi questioned ... did she let Lisa know how much she was loved? Did Lisa know for sure ... without a doubt how much she meant to Cindi and their entire family?

I can answer that question. I've been in Cindi's home. I have had the absolute pleasure of eating lunch beside their fireplace and playing with their dog, Dory. I have been given the opportunity to call their family ... friends. And ... I know in their family ... I am loved. Just as I am ... good, bad and everything in between. So, I know beyond a doubt ... Lisa left this earth blessed to have been a part of Cindi's family.

Are you making that difference in some one's life? Are you using up every moment to let those you love ... know you love them?

Sometimes, I don't do that. I get so caught up in the world ... I forget about those things. Make today a day filled with purpose ... purposeful love for others and the sharing of that love.

Psalm 139:1-3 "O Lord, You have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise,You perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down. You are familiar with all my ways."

We'll Be Too Busy

2010-04-25T19:47:00.005-04:00

Our family of five filed into the small elementary school. We followed the path of acquaintances, friends and strangers ... family night at school. It was the night set aside for students and families to come in and meet the teachers ... find the classrooms and "get comfortable" with the surroundings ... before the first official day of school.

Our family found the room where one of my boys would spend 5 days a week for the next nine months. The walls were covered in alphabet, numbers, birthday candles, weather signs ... it smelled of new crayons and finger paint. I smiled and followed James as he ran his fingers across the large desks and then shelves filled with colorful books. He found friends he hadn't seen all summer and they began to tell tales of lazy summer fun.

We stopped to meet the teacher and I noticed a small blond haired boy ... tearing up. It was only family night and his fears, uncertainty were already "getting the best of him." I felt like a fist clenched around my heart ... too much of my school years were spent the same way ... fearful, uncertain. I felt for that little boy and for his mommy. He whimpered in his mother's shoulder ... "Everybody's gonna pick on me." Again, my heart ... being picked on ... again the same for my childhood ... school hood.

Then, the teacher did something ... said something ... She put her hand on his back, leaned down on his level and said "That won't happen in my classroom. We'll be having too much fun to pick on each other. You're going to make some really good friends this year ... I promise."

In that moment, she earned his trust. He looked up at her with bright blue eyes and smiled. She returned the smile and a wink to his mommy. I immediately liked this teacher. There was something in her eyes ... I knew she was going to keep that promise.

And, she did. Her classroom held no tolerance for "making fun", "picking on" ... all of the kids made good friends. They did have fun. Too much fun for there to be any time for other things ... lesser things ... hurtful things.

What if our lives were like that? What if ... we were so busy loving others that we didn't have time for hurtful things?

I find myself giving time to thoughts, feelings and actions that are hurtful. Hurtful to me and to others. And, then ... I don't have enough time to spend on the good things ... on love ... mercy ... grace. Things that make me feel good, things that make others feel good ... things that please God.

This week, I'm challenging myself. Less time for hurtful things and more time for love.

Philippians 4:8 "Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on these things."

Something He's Not

2010-04-24T07:35:00.007-04:00

Meet Buddy. He's been a part of the Willis Family for the past 6 years. And ... Buddy thinks he's a lap dog. As you can see in this picture, Buddy is NOT a lap dog. He's a border collie and is too big to hop on someones lap and cuddle up ... but ... he tries and we let him.

It's not that we let him when he was a puppy and he's never grown out of the habit. He was never held or cuddled on our laps. He was an outside dog for 3 years. After deciding to take on a van traveling down our highway ... he retired to the laundry room to mend a broken leg. And ... he's been inside ever since ... acting like something he's not.

Buddy wants to be as close to us as possible ... especially close to Jerry, our oldest son Clay and my Dad (lap in the picture). Buddy is a "people pleaser" kind of dog. He wants us to love him, play with him, include him ... everything all the time ... Buddy needs to be in it. That's where he feels comfortable and best. For some reason, Buddy has decided that being a lap dog is somehow better than being what he is ... a sit by your feet kind of dog.

Have you ever done that? Tried to be something you're not. I have.

I struggle to accept who I am is good enough, pretty enough, smart enough ... so many things ... things I feel like I am not but wish I could be. So, I try to be all the things I think will please other people. All the things I think will make other people love me more, want to include me more. Somewhere along the way, I told myself I had to be perfect. I had to fit into some kind of mold the world created for women, wives and mothers.

When all along, I've been perfectly me ... the person God created me to be. His mold is the only one I need to be concerned with ... it's the only one I have to fit in to. My imperfections allow God to manifest His perfections.

The Willlis Family loves Buddy whether he's a lap dog or a dog sitting by our feet. We accept him just as he is ... imperfections and all.

What about you ... do you struggle with being someone you are not? Do you accept others just the way they are? Do you tell others how they must behave in order to fit into your mold?

1 Timothy 1:12-17 "I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me faithful, appointing me to his service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen. "

Steady the Ladder

2010-04-22T12:33:00.004-04:00

We're building a fort. Not a small one either. I know, we're crazy! Well, I guess I have to admit, I'm the crazy one. And ... Jerry and my Dad ... they're the ones working on my crazy plan. But, really ... we looked everywhere for a fort with all the things we wanted for the boys ... and ... in our price range. Nothing ... so ... we set out on a mission. On an adventure. At it's highest peak, this fort will stand 11 feet off the ground. There will be a castle tower, a bridge leading to a small pirate ship and lots of cool things hidden inside. It's going to be a long, time consuming task.

Jerry and my Dad have been handling a large portion of the frame work. But, I decided I wanted to do something to help. Aren't all mommies like that? Don't we always have to be in on the action? I do. I wanted to be able to say ... "Hey, I helped build that!" So, I decided to help with the frame on the 11 foot castle tower.

I was about 8 feet off the ground, standing on an older ladder. As I swung the hammer, I felt the ladder shift under my weight. My legs buckled a little and I grabbed hold of the support beam. But ... I didn't need it. From out of nowhere, the ladder steadied. I gained my balance and looked down ... there was my Dad ... hand on the ladder, balancing it ... steadying it.

As we worked through the remaining support beams, I thought about how good it felt to go from being afraid I would fall 8 feet to the hard ground ... to feeling safe, knowing I was totally safe. I could stand at the very top rung and hammer in the nail. I could finish what I started ... knowing I had someone steadying my ladder.

Life is so much like that. I want that for each of my boys. I want them to climb as high as they want ... knowing that Jesus will be there to steady them if they start to slip. And, isn't that what Jesus wants for us, His children? He wants us to know He is ALWAYS there ... always watching ... steadying. And, we can do that for each other. We can be the one standing at the bottom of the ladder, watching and waiting ... to steady it when our brothers and sisters in Christ slip. When they need support, balancing ... someone to hold the ladder while they set out on their adventures, reach their goals ... their dreams.

Have you steadied a ladder today?

Hebrews 13:6 "So we say with confidence, 'The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?"

To Make You Laugh

2010-04-21T06:57:00.003-04:00

Just a story to make you laugh. This story is from my almost 6 year old.

First, to understand this entire story, you need to know how much my youngest boy dislikes school. Kregg has a wonderful teacher. I've been in the classroom as a helper. So, I've seen first hand she does great with the kids and does lots of fun things to keep them interested in the learning process. I don't really think his feelings about school have anything to do with school ... his feelings have everything to do with his love of ... home. He wants to be home. All the time.

Every morning, he gets up and tries to find some way to stay ... home. For example ... his head hurts, his feet hurt, his eye hurts ... he has a hole in his sock ... he has growing pains (super bad in his words) or even ... one time, his "pee-pee" hurt and he couldn't wear clothes and since you can't go to school naked, he would just have to stay home.

So ... yesterday, I picked the boys up from school. Half way to the car, Kregg starts crying. He tells me he had a REALLY bad day at school. He had to move his "clip" two times. This statement is enforced by Kregg holding up to fingers, in the air ... and wide eyes. That's bad. I say, ok and we'll talk about it in the car. We get into the car and the story spills ...

"Mama, I can't tell you. It's really bad." He won't look at me.

"It's ok, Kregg. You'll feel better if you talk about it."

I make his big brother cover his ears so only I can hear the terrible offense that caused Kregg to move his clip ... TWO TIMES.

"Well, it's really bad." He's crying, face in his hands."I stomped on a peanut butter and jelly." Huge sigh from his little body and he waits for me to punish him.

"In the lunch room? How did that happen?"

"I dropped my PB & J on accident. And, then ... I stomped on it. Mrs. Frank caught me." He cries more.

"Kregg, that's pretty bad. That probably made a big mess for the lunch ladies to clean up. But, it's ok 'cause you won't do it again now that you know better." I smile back at him. Because, really ... in all the things he could do to get in BIG trouble ... this isn't so bad ... but, I don't tell him that because he needs to understand it was wrong.

He's still crying. I'm puzzled.

"You won't do it again, right Kregg?" I ask because it doesn't sound like he understands he can't do that again.

"That's just it, Mama. I think I'm gonna have to do it again." He shrugs and cries ... more.

"Why, why would you have to do it again?" I'm confused even more, this makes no sense at all.

"Well, I'm gonna have to stomp on another PB&J. Cause if you're really naughty and no one can get you to be good, then they won't let you come to school anymore. And, I hate school. Stompin' on that PBJ was the mostest trouble I ever got in at school." Big sigh. "So, I'm gonna have to do it again" Shrug of his tiny shoulders, like he's been defeated " ... that way I ain't gotta go to school no more." More tears.

I turn around in the seat to laugh where he can't see me.

Seriously ... Kregg would rather get in major trouble and be kicked out of school then to have to just go to school and ... have fun.

Yes, Kregg is up this morning and ready for school. Today, there was a hole in his sock again ... he was certain he couldn't go to school. But, we finally found a pair without holes. I explained to him that if you are in major trouble and can't go to school ... well ... then you can't stay home either.

My "To Do" List

2010-04-20T07:02:00.004-04:00

1. Get up, get ready for work
2. Get the kids up, ready for school ... get the kids to school
3. Work (all day)
4. Take James to baseball practice
5. Get homework done for all three boys
6. Fix supper
7. Get everybody ready for bed and safely tucked in for the night
8. Collapse

My "To Do" List.

It's the same nearly everyday ... the same list, the same people on the list, the routine ... the same.

Most of the time, I find myself just trying to make it through to number 8. And, I hope and pray there are no sudden surprises between number 2 and 4. No sick kids to pick up early from school, no car trouble ... nothing that would "mess up" my to do list.

Yesterday, my niece's anesthesiologist taught me a much needed lesson. He opened my eyes to the truth in a to do list ... take off the numbers ... don't make it a list ...

My niece, Hope, was in for yet another surgery. She struggles with nausea. After nearly every surgery, she spends hours throwing up. The last 5 months have been filled with surgeries to give her ears. She was born with only buds due to her Treacher Collins Syndrome (TCS). Imagine ... the amount of pain already from being cut open so many times. Then add on top of that pressure from throwing up for hours. Painful.

Yesterday, this new anesthesiologist read through Hope's chart. He found her struggle with nausea and ... he did something about it. He's been trained in acupuncture.

After Hope's surgery, this man came back into the recovery room. He stayed with her ... performing acu pressure on different points of her body. He knew ... he knew he could help. He knew the acu pressure would decrease her nausea. So, instead of moving on to his next patient, the next surgery ... he came back, performed the acu pressure and ... it worked. Hope woke up with NO nausea.

Hope woke up with a smile.

All because, this man saw Hope as more than just a number on his "to do" list. He saw her as a special little girl struggling. He used his gifts to help her. Then, he went beyond that ... he went and talked with my sister and my brother-in-law about Hope's nausea. He let them know of what could be done to help.

He made a difference. He saw each patient as a person, not a number.

Do I ever make that effort? Are there things I could do differently?

Today, I'm taking the numbers off my list ... I'm taking time to see the people I'm blessed to have on my list. I'm going to use my gifts at work ... use them to make a difference for the people I meet.

Thank you, Malik ... your care for my niece not only made her feel better ... but, it taught me something. I pray you are blessed.

What are you doing today? Do you have gifts to give? Are there numbers on your list?

Romans 12:6-8 "We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully."

Part of the Team

2010-04-18T20:40:00.005-04:00

"Who said that?" Ball bat pointed out across the field, the coach eyed his players. "Fine! No one wants to tell me, Fine!"

A dozen seven and eight year olds stood wide eyed, shocked ... the coach rarely raised his voice. They knew he meant business. For once, the team didn't move ... the entire group of squirmy kids ... stood frozen.

"I better NEVER hear that again! If I do, I'll find out who said it and you'll be done. No more play time!"

I watched from my seat in the car. I sat with the windows down, watching my almost eight year old practicing catch. Whoever it was ... it wasn't him (thank goodness!). He was too far away from the coach to be the guilty one.

From my spot beside the field, it sounded like one of the players was poking fun at a team mate. I could've been wrong but I was pretty sure. The coach's voice was lowered again ... I couldn't make out everything he said ... but, one thing was clear, someone had disappointed him. Someone wasn't acting like a part of the team. They were too busy picking out the wrongs of their team to even notice what they might be doing wrong.

In that moment, I gained a new respect for my son's coach. I saw a part of him I did not see during last season. I liked this part ... this firm respect for each player. For the rest of practice, encouragement came for and from each member of my son's team. The coach let that moment go and moved on to playing ball with his team.

We could use more of that coach in our world. The businesses in our communities need more of that coach.

Unfortunately there are a lot of companies that need someone like that ... someone who will command respect for co-workers. Someone who will lead by example and guide their team to respect each player. Rather than picking out each players faults ... they need someone who will point out the strengths and gently guide the players to improve. Somewhere along the way, that's been lost ... I don't want to be like that ... I want to be someone like my son's baseball coach.

As Christians, we are blessed to be lead by a Coach guiding us with encouragement. And ... He tolerates no judgement or condemnation. Within the field of His team, there is room to fail and encouragement to do better. There is acceptance and appreciation for the strength of each player. A game can not be won by the coach ... it can not be won by one good player ... you need the entire team.

Romans 12:3-8 "For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully.

Out the Window

2010-04-15T17:26:00.008-04:00

"Where'd my other paper go?" My seven year old was frustrated! He shoved book bags, school papers and a ball mitt across the car seat.

"You just had it. Look on the floor." I watched him through the rear view mirror. We were on our way home from school. It was my half day at work ... meaning, I got to pick my boys up from school and spend the rest of the afternoon ... just us. That's the highlight of my early day off from work. I look forward to being there for them .. spending time with them.

"It's not there!" His voice was loud and full frustration. "Oh man! What am I gonna do? That's my homework! This is just great!" He stomped his feet on the floor board, arms crossed over his chest and lower lip poked out as far as humanly possible.

It didn't stop there. The attitude went well into the evening. Nothing seemed to lift his spirits. After much talk and more talk and even more talk ... we figured it must have gone out the open car window. It was warm and breezy ... the perfect afternoon for open car windows ... the worst afternoon for homework to be out in the car.

And, now I have to admit, I lost my temper. I yelled at him. Why? Because, even after all the talking and trying to persuade him it would be OK ... he was still in a terrible mood. It was my afternoon off work ... and we spent that afternoon arguing. All because he couldn't get his mind off the homework ... lost somewhere in a field between home and school. I knew we could fix it. I knew we could talk with his teacher, get another homework page and turn it in. None of that mattered. All he could focus on was ... what went out the window ... his homework and my afternoon off right behind it.

And ... I do that to God all the time. He has plans, perfect plans. He looks forward to spending time with me, being there for me. I let the frustrations of my everyday life get in the way. I know He can fix everything ... He can find what's missing (maybe what's missing is time alone with my husband, money to pay all the bills, quiet time), help me get it done ... but, I don't let Him. All my frustrations cause His plans to "go out the window". He gave us free will and a part of that free will is allowing Him to work His magic.

And, even when I don't let Him, He doesn't get mad. He doesn't loose His temper. He waits ... patiently.

Psalm 62:5 "My soul, wait silently for God alone, For my expectation is from Him."

1st Corinthians 13:4 "Love is patient, Love is kind."

Past the Fog

2010-04-14T07:04:00.004-04:00

Sometimes, our vision gets blurred by the every day. We have to try harder, look longer and push past the fog to see what really matters.

The every day can be beautiful. For me, a foggy morning ... mist hanging over the corn fields in my back yard ... dew settled on the grass ... that's beautiful. But, when it's foggy, I can't see what's behind the mist ... what's hidden beneath.

Enjoying the beauty around me, that's a blessing. Enjoying what lies beneath ... well, that's just ... God.

Vinny found something beneath the surface ... and, in finding it ... seeing it ... he blessed me.

Vinny is married to one of my very dear friends. He and his wife are a blessing to me and my family. The picture with this blog was taken by her. She has an incredible gift for photographing nature from a different perspective.

Yesterday was one of those days when a simple comment Vinny made ... touched my heart.

Vinny and Cindi have a pool in their backyard. For a couple of summers, Cindi and I have been trying to make plans for me and my boys to come over and swim. It just never works out ... mostly because I'm crazy busy running the boys around for baseball practice. Or insane projects I start but somehow never finish.

Yesterday, Cindi told me that Vinny wanted to make plans for our entire family (My family, my sister's family, my parents) to come over and swim. She reminded him that wouldn't be possible ... not possible because my niece, Hope, can't swim. Because of her disability (Treacher Collins), she has a trech and can't be submersed in water.

Vinny knows our family inside and out ... He sees Hope on Sundays when she's able to come to church. He knows she's disabled and knows the limitations of her special needs. In knowing her, he forgot about those limitations. He just saw Hope ... He saw the depth of her personality. The Hope who would love to splash in the water and toss around with her cousins.

Without even realizing it, Vinny looked beyond Hope's beautiful foggy surface and saw what God sees in each of us. Vinny saw the special things behind Hope's special needs.

In the moment Cindi shared Vinny's comment with me, I was blessed ... and, I was reminded ...

There is a spirit and soul behind the face of each person I meet. The surface is a fog hiding the spirit from my human eyes. If I want to see the spirit ... I have to look with God's eyes.

Thank you, Vinny ... for seeing Hope and each of us through the fog.

Psalm 139:1 "O LORD, you have searched me and you know me."

Condemned

2010-04-13T06:38:00.007-04:00

"Look at all those houses! They're all empty ... wow, some of the windows are broken in." I turned my head to look as close as possible while we drove past. Some type of sign or notice was posted on each door. All I could make out from the roadside ... Condemned.

"Probably has something to do with the flooding." My husband turned and looked at all the houses on the other side of the highway.

House after house ... home after home ... empty. Condemned.

My husband was most likely right. Several years ago, there was massive flooding in that area. The highway was covered in water and the houses on either side of the road sat in 3 feet of water. Weeks passed before the water began to diminish. At the time, everyone wondered what would become of those homes. Now, it seems the answer was ... they were deemed unfit to live in. Unfit to call home by families. Unfit to serve as a safe place to land at the end of a long work day.

We drove past those houses again last week. The windows were black holes into empty shells. The outside of each was unkempt and looked worn from the longer than desired winter. They lacked all evidence of life ... the things that tell you a home is taken, claimed. No bikes tossed at the garage door, no flowers poking up from pots on the porch ... no lights shining from inside and piercing the dusk.

At what point does one determine a home beyond repair, unfit to live in?

As we drove further, I thought about the families forced to leave the place they called home. I thought about the memories and safety each might have felt in the now vacant shells. I know how much I love my home ... how much did it hurt them to walk away? To leave a place they had worked hard to make safe, loving and comfortable? And then, I thought about the condition of my heart ... the home I've asked Christ to live in.

How often do I behave "unChristian"? How many times do I sin and cause damage to the shelter Christ calls home? Do I let the storms of this life, this earth alter the place I reserve for my Family? And, how much must it hurt Him to be removed ... removed because He cannot reside in a home tarnished with sin?

And ... how often does He repair the damage caused by my choices, caused by storms on this earth? There is never a point when He claims my heart or any other heart ... beyond repair... worthless or unfit to live in. Each heart, each life ... He sees the value ... a vision of that heart without sin. All that is required of me is to ask ... ask Him to take away the sin.

He puts His light in the windows of my soul and chases away the darkness left by floods of hurt and sin. He leaves evidence of a home claimed by Family.

How is the condition of your heart? Have you asked Him to take down the sign of condemnation?

Psalm 34:22 "The LORD redeems his servants; no one will be condemned who takes refuge in him."

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."

Tending the Fire

2010-04-07T07:25:00.008-04:00

It's almost that time of year ... the time when Jerry and I look forward to weekend campfires. We don't go to any campground or lake for this retreat. We're blessed to have it right in our own backyard. And, this year ... I'm looking forward to it even more than in years past.

On nearly any summer weekend, you can find us gathered around a large fire ... roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. Sometimes there's a big pot of chili simmering or sometimes ... just our family ... no food.

As the fire begins to burn hot, the calls go out to family and friends ... "We've got the fire going, come on over." And soon there are more lawn chairs and smiles around the fire. The adults sit with feet stretched close to the warmth while the kids play games of "hide and seek" or catch.

This morning, I was praying for some young people in my life and even some acquaintances. These people are in my prayers for so many reasons. Some are loved ones going through difficult times. Others are names rather than faces. Names that have been mentioned in passing ... names of people who are in need of prayer. For each, this morning my prayer was that they would have a relationship with Christ.

Not skin deep ... but soul deep. You know what I'm talking about ... the kind of relationship that seeps into your bones and into your spirit. And, as I prayed ... I thought about our campfires. How hard it is sometimes to get that small ember to become a bright, steady and hot flame. There are times when my husband has been down on his knees blowing a steady gentle breath on the ember hiding beneath the kindling. If he gets up too soon, walks away and doesn't tend to the fire ... it fizzles and dies out.

Each of us is born with that ember. The small place within our soul that knows a Greater power is out there. The question is ... who is willing to get down and look for that ember? Who is willing to spend time down on their knees, breathing life into that ember? Who is willing to stay and tend the fire once it starts?

Once the fire is burning steady, others draw near to its warmth and light. It brings calm ... comfort ... retreat.

My prayer this morning ... for these souls ... a breath of life on the ember.

Matthew 5:14-16 "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven. "

When I See Him Smile

2010-04-04T10:08:00.005-04:00

My feet spinning circles in the water, I sat on the edge of the pool. I watched ... my family. The blessings God has given me ... playing in three feet of water ... the shallow end. Someday they'll all be in the deep end ... but for now, they stay in the shallow area where James and Kregg can reach the bottom and keep their chins above the water.

Just the five of us in the pool room. It was quiet and warm. Nine thirty at night. We were the only visitors out on Easter Eve. My husband has a key to his employer's pool house. We can go nearly anytime of day or night ... and play ... just us.

On this night, I watched each of my guys ... Jerry, Clay, James and Kregg. I didn't get in at all. Just dangled my feet in the warm water and enjoyed the view.

As I let my heart take in each sight and sound, I remembered a prayer from my youth. A prayer I whispered at 16 years old. I asked God to let me marry this boy ... then, I asked him to let me have children and to enjoy them.

In the chaos of my everyday life, I ask God to get me through the day. I ask Him to bless me with funds to meet each financial obligation. I ask for my home to stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Sometimes, I selfishly ask for a "good day" ... one where all five of us get along, no fights or nasty words. I ask to have a date night with my husband ... worry free ... no car trouble, no family troubles ... no job worries.

And, at the end of each day, I fall asleep ... with the answer to my prayer from 19 years ago. I married that boy and we have three amazing children ... and, I'm enjoying them.

Jerry pulled our youngest boy off the pool edge and walked to the middle where our other two boys wrestled in the splashes. He looked over Kregg's shoulder and smiled. That smile ... the smile I fell for at 15 years old. The smile I asked God to bless the rest of my life with when I just 16. I read his lips ... "what?" ... because he saw a look on my face ... "nothing" I said ... because it would be impossible to tell him where my heart was and what I was remembering.

When I see him smile ... I'm thankful for God's yes to my 16 year old prayer.

Jeremiah 29:11-14 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you."

Are You a Soldier?

2010-04-02T07:19:00.005-04:00

I was standing in the kitchen ... no lights ... dark ... talking to my nearly 16 year old son. Talking about Passion ... Passion of the Christ. He had just come home from youth group where they had watched Passion. He'd seen it before and knows the story. He's in church nearly every Sunday, at youth group on Sunday nights and youth events scattered in between school days and Sundays. But something was different on this night.

He always has questions ... about everything ... movies, music, my day at work, his dad's workout at the Y ... everything. But, on this night ... the questions were ones I had not planned for. Ones I needed to slow down and think about.

"Mom is the scene with the crow or black bird biblical?", "What do you think the meaning is of the child Satan holds during Christ's beating?" ... and so many others. I slowed down from the pace of laundry and dishes. We stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter, covered in the darkness of a late March night.

I answered his questions. He told me his thoughts. Then, he asked me about the soldiers. The ones sitting at the foot of the cross as Christ died. In the Passion, those soldiers cast lots for Christ's belongings. They laugh and wipe Christ's blood from their faces. This touched my son ...

"Mom, when I saw that, I thought maybe we're like that sometimes. Like those soldiers."

"In what way?" I ask, arms wrapped around my fuzzy bathrobe.

"We sit at the foot of the cross and we laugh. We take His death and the reason for granted. We do things we know we shouldn't and take His forgiveness and the price of it for granted." Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets as he lets me see a little bit of the work God is doing on his heart.

"Wow, I've thought about how we take it for granted but never that I might be like one of those soldiers."

We talked a little more and then I let him go to his room to think. I've learned with having three boys ... they aren't as emotional and sharing as us girls. So, I take the moments like that night and tuck them away in my heart.

He's right ... we are sometimes like the soldiers.

I am sometimes like the soldiers.

I take His sacrifice for granted. I make poor choices without even thinking about how it hurts Him. I sit at the foot of the cross ... the place where forgiveness is free ... I sin and come to the cross ... the forgiveness is always there and I take it.

He gives it.

And, today ... I am grateful. I am at the foot of the cross as one who aches over the sacrifice of her Savior.

Tonight

2010-03-23T20:41:00.009-04:00

Tonight, I am tired and angry and sad and frustrated and worried ... and ... asking why? Why has God not healed Hope?

Hope is one of my beautiful nieces. She was born with Treacher Collins. And, over the past 5 months, she has endured countless surgeries to form ears where previously she had only buds. The first ear went great and the doctors were very confident the second would go just as well.

Tomorrow, my niece will face yet another surgery. I have to be honest and tell you ... I've lost track. I can't remember exactly what number this procedure is in the miles she has walked. But, tomorrow afternoon, she will walk away from her parents, holding the hand of her friend ... a nurse who will take her into the operating room. She will, yet again, trust her doctor and her God ... to take care of her while she closes her eyes and lets the sleepy medicine do its work.

Hope knows on the other side of tomorrow ... there will be pain. There will be several days filled with silence. She can not wear her hearing aid after the surgery. Without her aid, noises are muffled and weak. The stitches will hurt and itch. There will be nausea and vomiting from the surgery.

She is just a little girl ... a little girl who wants ears. Ears for her MP3 and for earrings ... why hasn't God given them?

Do you ever find yourself asking God ... why? When that happens, what do you do ... where do you go for strength?

I don't have all the answers. I don't know if tomorrow will be the final surgery in this process. I don't know for certain God will choose for Hope to have two ears ... or just one ... I don't know those things. But, I do know this ... I've learned so much by watching my sister and her husband ... watching both my nieces ... and by watching God work His perfection.

I know that tomorrow ... isn't about me. It's about Hope and her mom and dad and big sister. It's about encouraging them when they need us and waiting patiently while the doctor uses the gifts God has given him.

And ... it's about knowing that whatever tomorrow holds ... God's holding tomorrow.

James 1:12 "Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him."

Hebrews 11:1 "Now faith is being sure of what we HOPE for and certain of what we do not see."

How Will They Know Me?

2010-03-20T13:22:00.005-04:00

A beautiful smile and bright eyes. A face that reflected peace, joy and acceptance ... that's how I recognized her.

Jerry and I took the boys to a ballgame. Half time, the seniors walked to center court ... escorted by their parents. There she was ... looking the same as she had in high school, walking her 18 year old son to center court. I recognized her immediately.

She was the girl 2 years older than me, always smiling and ready to encourage someone else. No matter what she was going through ... there she was, ready to listen and pick somebody up when they were down.

I stopped her after the game and we talked for only a few minutes. It was good to see her, to find out what was going on in her world. I probably won't see her again ... for another 17 years ... but that chance reunion left me thinking.

How do people recognize me? How will they know me ... in 40 or 50 years? When my hair is no longer brown but gray. My eyes are hidden behind wrinkles and no longer bright and green. If my smile is a little weak with age ... will anyone know me? What am I doing now to make sure my "identity" goes beyond my outward appearance?

My prayer is ... they will know me by my love, compassion, mercy ... the attributes I so often strive but fail to achieve. I pray they will look beyond the things I fail and see my heart.

John 13:34 - 35 "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

Spreading Her Wings

2010-03-07T08:16:00.009-05:00

March 10th ... That date has held special meaning in my life for the past 20 years. It's the date I started "going steady" with Jerry Willis. I was 15 and crazy about a brown eyed boy who made my heart skip. Every year, I remember the day and it's special meaning. The day God marked my future with Jerry.

This year, that day will take on another meaning. On March 10, 2010, our niece will leave for basic training. She'll leave the safety of our family and travel to a place full of strangers. Her mom will come home and the house will be quiet without Tori's laugh.

Tori loves new experiences and her future will be marked by this adventure.

Tori will be miles away from us ... instead of a 15 minute drive. She won't be at the ice cream stand this summer and she won't be in my kitchen as I make homemade pizza on the weekends.

She's spreading her wings. I've always known this day would come for each of the children in my life. I'll miss her ... the things that make her unique. I'm proud of this choice she is making. I'm proud to say Tori is going to protect the country I live in, the freedoms I enjoy.

Sure, she'll come home on leave. She'll have holidays to come home ... to come home.

That's the best part of leaving home ... you can come back.

Tori will take all the things that make her the unique person she is ... she'll take them with her to this foreign place. Everything our family has taught her, everything she has become ... she'll take that with her.

That's exactly how God is for us. He raises us, he gives us a foundation to build our lives on. He nurtures us until He knows we're ready to venture out and do His works.

I pray that's what Tori has ... a strong foundation built with family bonds. Bonds that will support her on days when she is tired, weary and maybe even second guessing her choice.

He let's us spread our wings and fly. And, at the end of the journey, when we're tired from the adventure, He's there. We can hang our coat and hat and call Him ... Home.

Sometimes I Stay Longer

2010-03-05T07:00:00.007-05:00

He's the first one up ... always.

I'm either in the kitchen getting my first cup of coffee or sitting at the dining room table reading my bible ... and ... he's there. Still fuzzy with sleep, he shuffles up and gives me a hug ... a hug that is especially James (7 years old and too tall for his age).

As I hug him, I whisper ... "Guess who you are?"

"I know ... your favorite 7 year old." He giggles soft.

"That's right. And, there is no one else just like you." And, I kiss his rumpled hair.

This morning was different. He was still the first one up, still the hug while I sat at the table ... but he held on longer than usual. That's what was different ... holding on longer. I let him because it felt good and I could feel he needed it.

My boys are growing up. There are no more toddler cuddles, mixed up funny words and silly dances. So, I take what I can get ... and, this morning it was the extra long hug ... his face pressed against my neck and warm breath on my cheek.

Sometimes I need that extra time with Jesus. I need to wrap my arms around His neck and stay ... stay longer than usual before I start my day. And, He lets me. Because He loves me. He knows I need Him, I need the extra time. He wants that extra time. He knows the world has its demands, my boys need their mommy, my husband needs his wife ... and He knows I'll come to Him. When I do ... He's there.

He says ... "There is no one else just like you. I love you."

Psalm 139:15-16 "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

House on the Rock

2010-03-02T19:30:00.007-05:00

"Sorry Mr. Willis, but there's no way we're gonna get that house set by this weekend." The contractor looked at my husband and understood frustration was setting in.

"What? You've got to be kiddin' me. We keep getting different dates from everybody!" My husband motioned toward the still drying foundation and then the two halves of our double wide ... parked in the empty field next to our lot. Parked in the same spot for over 2 weeks.

"Hey, I can't help it. Wolfe's crew messed up on the measurements. This foundation isn't gonna work with the frame of your house." He swiped at his brow. "You're frame is built to step down on the north end and this foundation isn't set for that."

Our contractor went on to explain the problem. For us, all that meant was more waiting. Waiting to move into our first mortgaged home.

The minute we walked into the lot model 4 months prior, we knew it was our house. Everything from the colors to the room sizes ... and most of all ... a beautiful step down living room and master bedroom. AND, the price was reduced because it was an expired lot model. It was perfect. But this ... this foundation issue ... not so perfect. The floor plans we gave to the contractor had everything listed. He passed it on to the concrete company and somehow ... there was a misunderstanding. The first pour of concrete didn't allow for my beautiful living room. Without that foundation, the house wouldn't set right.

We'd been waiting well past the initial "ready to move in date" ... It was nearly Thanksgiving weekend and we were guaranteed a move in date of no later than mid-September. I was running out of patience.

But, in the end, our contractor was right. We couldn't rush this step in the building process. If we did, there would be problems later. Problems that would prove costly, stressful and frustrating. So, we waited and within a few short weeks, we were in our new home.

According to the contractor, our foundation and frame fit "like a glove".

We are like that house ... we have to pick the right foundation ... Christ. Without that solid foundation, things may look good in the beginning ... but in the end ... it won't work. Nothing can truly work without Christ as our Foundation.

For me, having Christ as my foundation means spending time with Him, reading from the word and putting that word into action, basing my everday life on His word and my faith in that word. Sometimes I mess up, sometimes the winds blow and I'm a little afraid of the storms ... but, in the end, I can stand up against any storm ... because I have a True Foundation.

Matthew 7:24-27 "Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash."

The Handrail

2010-03-01T20:15:00.005-05:00

"Don't make me, Mommy! Please!" He begs and I tell him it's ok for what seems like the hundredth time.

"James, it's ok. I'm right here. I'll hold you just like I held Kregg." I hold out my arms and wait for him to jump. His baby brother, Kregg, is already floating around in the water with his cousins.

"NO!" James shouts and takes his 5 year old body out of the pool as fast as possible. He runs into a towel held by my husband. My husband ... who is standing a safe 10 feet away from the swimming pool.

Two summers past, my sister-in-law put a pool in her backyard. It's only about 4 foot deep from any point in the entire circle. But, for James ... it might as well be a mile deep. He's afraid of swimming pools ... not really the entire pool ... just anything beyond the steps and metal handrail. For him, the steps and handrail mean safety. As long as he is holding on to those things, he feels safe.

Over the July 4th weekend that summer, we made plans to have a cook out and go swimming. James was excited. He talked non-stop about jumping into the pool and swimming all around. So, Jerry and I were both really surprised when James wouldn't budge from the pool steps.

I tried everything I could think of to get James past those steps. I tried to carry him out into the center of the pool. I pried his hands from the rail and took him crying into the "deep" water ... I thought once he got there ... he would realize it wasn't so bad ... that didn't work. I tried to let him float on a tube ... tried to let his big brother carry him ... nothing worked. James knew I was right there ... waiting. James knows how much I love him. He knows I would never let go of him.

I'm a lot like James. All too often, I let my fears get in the way. I stand at the handrail ... at the steps ... I watch while my friends and other believers play in the deep end. I want to do what they're doing. I want to feel secure enough to let go and jump into the water. I know Jesus is right there waiting for me. He would never let me drown. He would never let me go into water that wasn't safe. But still ... I hold on to that handrail ... not wanting to let go of what I think is safety.

In reality, HE is my safety. It doesn't matter how deep the water is ... what might be beneath the water's surface ... HE is bigger than those things. His love is deeper than any pool of water, bigger than any fear waiting beneath the surface of any pool.

He won't force me to go into the deep water ... He'll wait there for me ... holding out His hands and saying ... "It's ok, I'm right here."

Are you holding onto the handrail today?

Job 23:10-11 "But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold. My feet have closely followed his steps; I have kept to his way without turning aside."

Back Away From the Caramels and No One Gets Hurt

2010-02-23T19:18:00.000-05:00

When I was a little girl, my family received a box of chocolates every holiday season. It was a big rectangular box with two layers of yummy chocolate. My sister and I would argue over the caramels. Most of the time, the boxes came with a lid that had a diagram of what each piece was filled with ... but, sometimes there was no list. And, on those occasions, it was "first come first serve". If you got the caramels, you were the lucky one.

One Christmas, I decided ... I WAS getting ALL the caramels. I waited until no one else was around and I poked my finger into the bottom of each piece of chocolate. I found all the caramels, ate them and then left the rest in the box. At the time, I thought it was a pretty sly idea. The next day when my Mom went to get a piece ... yeah ... not so sly. For some reason, she noticed the hole in the bottom of each treat. I tried to convince her it wasn't me but it didn't work. I was punished ... but, I am pretty sure I heard my parents laughing about my ingenuity.

The next holiday, I knew better than to try any trickery to getting all the caramels. I took whatever piece I got and ... I ended up finding out I liked lots of different chocolates.

Life is a lot like that box of chocolates without the "map list." Forrest Gump was right ... Life is like a box of chocolate ... you never know what you're gonna get.

Do you ever get tired of waiting to see what God has planned? Do you ever find yourself trying to figure it out on your own ... like poking a hole in the bottom of those chocolates?

I do. Sometimes, I try to convince God that I deserve all the caramels ... all the things that I like best. But you know what? If all I ever tried was caramels, I would never find out that I really like orange filled chocolates and the strawberry filling isn't too bad either.

If all God ever gave me were good days ... I would take them for granted. When He lets me struggle or gives me a little challenge ... it makes me stronger and I've found out that I like the strong me. I appreciate the warm sunny days because I know what the cold days are like. God knows what's best for us. Sometimes His best might be a box full of ONLY caramels. But, other times it's a box filled with surprises.

Caramels are still my favorites but I have found pleasure in all the flavors.

Philippians 4:12-13 "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

A Glass Half Full

2010-02-21T14:05:00.000-05:00

"So Daddy, how's it look? All healed up good?" my niece, Hope, looks up at her Dad as he cares for her still healing cosmetic ear.

"Not yet." My sister and brother-in-law chime in unison.

Hope has gone through multiple procedures over the past 5 months. All in efforts to form ears for her. The first round of surgeries went well. Her body accepted the first cosmetic ear without any problems. But, this second ear ... not so well. After the initial implant of cartilage from her ribs, there was need for a skin graph and now ... there is another hole in the skin.

For my sister and her husband, this is tough. As parents they want to tell Hope all is well, things are great and healing is going perfect. But, to tell Hope that would be a lie. Her life will be filled with medical procedures and health care due to her Treacher Collins. Facts are important. And ... the fact is ... this ear might not "keep" ... her body might reject this implant.

So, in the quiet of the evening while most parents are tucking their children in after a bedtime story ... Hope's parents are lovingly giving "facts". They tell her what's happening in a way that makes sense for her little mind. And ... then they ask how she will feel if this ear doesn't work. Most people would wonder about asking when it should be obvious how Hope will feel. But, this is the magic of their family. They communicate in this way ... this way that opens doors for conversation that might otherwise be really hard.

"That's ok. I got one ear that's pretty. If God decides not to let me keep this ear, that's ok." Hope smiles.

In the moment my sister shared this story with me ... I felt completely defeated. Defeated by my own ungrateful attitude. In that moment, Hope taught me something. I've been viewing my glass as half empty instead of being grateful that it's really half full.

Hope is ready to accept God's will for her life. At a young age, she has found gratitude for the small miracles. She is, as her mom put it ... "Always a glass half full kind of girl."

That's what I need to be ... glass half full.

My husband was laid off from his job in February of 2009. In November of 2009, he found part time employment that pays half what he made each hour at his factory job. No benefits due to part time employment. Needless to say, we've been struggling financially. But, to be honest, I'm able to handle the financial struggle pretty well ... it's the emotional side of it that hits me hardest.

Anyone who knows me knows I would love to be a "stay at home mommy". So, my husband getting to fill the shoes I've always wanted to wear ... that's been tough for me to accept. He's home with the boys while I'm at work full time.

I've spent a good deal of time grumbling to God. Grumbling about Him letting Jerry have what I want. I have told myself lots of times that this is a "bad attitude" and an ungrateful attitude. I have a great job. A job other people would love. One that comes with benefits and with an employer that respects family time. I should be thankful for this job. But, I keep coming back to ... what I want. I keep seeing my glass as half empty.

This morning, as my sister told me about Hope's acceptance ... I realized I could learn a lot from Hope. I need to accept God knows what's best for me and my family. I need to be ready for whatever He has planned. While I'm waiting to find out what's going to happen next ... I need to have joy in the small miracles.

Do you ever find yourself with a glass half empty? Are you struggling to accept God's will in your life?

Is your glass half full ... or half empty? Today, mine is half full ... maybe if I look close enough I'll find that my glass is overflowing with blessings.

Malachi 3:10 "Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the LORD Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it."

Make it Quick!

2010-02-20T07:31:00.000-05:00

I have a five year old boy ... Can I get an AMEN from any parent who has been through this stage???

Out of our three boys, Kregg has the strongest will. He's a blessing in Buzz Light Year pajamas and a terror in an "I'll trade my brother for a tractor" t-shirt.

Last week, he decided to push it to the limit. Jerry and I were sitting at the dining room table eating supper with my parents. Kregg and James (our 7 year old) were playing Wii in the living room. Arguments began to burst from the two boys as each of them decided who should be winning the Mario Baseball game. I broke in to let them know anymore outbursts would result in "timeout" and further punishment.

A few minutes later ... more yelling, fighting and mean talk between the brothers. As promised, they were told to turn the game off and find a seat at the kitchen table for timeout. James went with a puckered lower lip and slumped shoulders ... Kregg on the other hand ... well, that was totally different. Whenever he's in trouble ... he lets the world know how mistreated he is by his mom.

As Kregg passed me, he said ... "Make it quick, I've got a game to play."

Yes, he did! I am not making this up. He knew the minute the words left his 5 year old lips ... he was in Trouble!

I punished him ... the going rate for disrespect is anywhere from no games for the day to no games for a week. He landed somewhere in the middle.

After dealing with this situation, I was griping to the Lord about ... what on earth made Kregg think he could talk to me that way? What on earth made that boy think he could set the boundaries? Kregg doesn't make the rules. This is MY house and he should go by the rules!

Ouch! I do that EXACT thing to God!

On any given morning, you can find me at my table ... bible open in front of me and my cup of coffee steaming right beside me. The question is ... Do I tell God to "make it quick" because I've got a busy day? Do I ask Him to hurry up and answer my prayers because I've got a life to live? Am I disrespectful to Him in His house?

Yes, I think I am ... at least sometimes.

If I'm not careful ... I can become the 5 year old who wants what she wants and expects everyone to just follow my lead. I need to be the woman God called me to be ... the wife who takes the time to encourage her husband (who has lost a total of 43 lbs!! WhooHoo! Go Jerry!), the mom who takes time out to enjoy the ramblings of three great boys, the daughter and sister who can be depended upon no matter what ... the daughter of God who can slow it down long enough to enjoy time with my Father.

Do you ever tell God to make it quick?

Jeremiah 29:12 "Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart. I will be found by you, says the Lord."

What's in Your Suitcase?

2010-02-17T16:31:00.000-05:00

"From Denver to Washington D.C., we're seeing countless flight delays due to bad weather." The blond news anchor smiles for the camera. "Snow fall has hit record highs in the DC area. Numerous homes are left without power and motorists are left stranded unable to navigate through the drifting snow and increasing ice. If your travel plans include flying into or out of the DC area, we suggest you check ahead for any flight delays." Again, she smiles for the camera, pauses and then ... "As always with any trip, be sure to pack your patience."

For the first time in several years, my husband and I spent a weekend away. Just the two of us. I sat on the hotel bed propped against pillows and watched the local news. Everything was centered around the recent snow storms. I listened to the weather and then the news anchor as she advised everyone traveling to include patience in their suitcase.

She encouraged travelers to take something with them that would not only make the lives of their fellow travelers easier but their own lives as well. Patience would be important while they dealt with delays and possibly grumpy airport staff and patrons. Having patience would get them through the day and on to their destination in a much better spirit.

No matter the destination, we spend days going over what to pack in our suitcase. We make sure we'll have exactly what we need for any degree of weather, any event we might attend while away and maybe even a few extra things in case of emergency.

Planning for each day of our lives should be a lot like planning for a vacation. No matter where you live, what you do for a living or what point you're at in your life ... this world is only your temporary home. Your final destination is to be with Christ in a New World. While you're traveling through this temporary world, it's important to be sure you have everything needed for each day.

When you're facing a tough day ... pack strength. When the day ahead is a little scary ... pack peace. If your week is filled with difficult people ... pack patience. Robe yourself in the armor of God. He would not have included the scriptures based on armor if we didn't need them.

Think about that for a few minutes ... each scripture of God's word was planned by Him. He knew the encouragement and knowledge we would need to face each day. And ... He included Ephesians 6. So, while you're preparing for today ... take time out to be with Him. Ask Him for the strength, peace and patience you need for your travels. Ask Him to go with you on this long stretch of road.

Most of all, be sure to take the traveler partner who knows all the directions. The One partner who can help you when you get lost or turned around. The One who is the very best company while your on the long stretches of road that are so tiresome.

Now it's time for me to go check my suitcase and be sure I've got what I need for today ... what's your suitcase filled with?

Ephesians 6:10-18 "Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints."

How Are You Today?

2010-02-08T17:24:00.000-05:00

Indiana was freezing this morning. A harsh 8 degrees according to my kitchen window thermometer.

I pulled into work and started the walk from my car to the building. Freezing!

I looked up to see ... "How are you today?" ... That's what I call him anyway. I have no idea what his name really is. All I know is this ... He is an older gentleman who walks from his employer to the gas station every morning. He gets a cup of coffee and sometimes a newspaper. Then, he walks back across the parking lot to his job. I can't remember a morning when he hasn't been there, walking back with a hot cup of coffee in one hand and waving his other hand at each person that passes. The gentle wave is followed by "How are you today?"

This morning I did NOT expect to see him, not with it being this cold out. But, there he was ... a cup of coffee and a wave.

I waved back and smiled, "That's a cold walk for you today!"

"It sure is." He paused, "Hey, I haven't seen you for a while. You been good?" His words created a fog between us. Another indication of the extreme cold.

"Good! No complaints here." I pulled my coat a little closer.

I passed him as he replied with ... "Ok, you take care."

"You too!" I waved and hustled into the building.

I was puzzled ... I've seen him every morning for probably the past year. I know I spoke to him each morning last week. Yet, he said ... "I haven't seen you in a while." Why was that?

Later that morning, a cup of coffee in my hand and sitting in front of my computer ... it struck me ... I was smiling. Not one of those pasted on smiles ... the ones I'm sure I've given more than once. I was really smiling. I looked right at "How are you today?" and I smiled, I stopped and listened to him.

I know this because I had a bad day yesterday. A day that left me feeling hurt and frustrated. I spent a good deal of time in prayer this morning before work. I made the decision to smile at those around me. Why? Because the look someone gave me yesterday and that person's actions ... hurt me. I know they had no intention of hurting me but it hurt anyway. After thinking long and hard about it ... I decided that it was possible I had somehow hurt others by looking at them without a smile or without kindness in my eyes. My actions had probably been hurtful without my even realizing it.

"How are you today?" didn't recognize me ... Wow! A smile makes that much difference! Wow, God makes that much difference!

So ... "How are you today?"

John 13:34-35 "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

Heal the Wounds, Leave the Scars

2010-02-07T18:40:00.000-05:00

I remember the day was humid. As I readied myself for work, I had a sense ... something was wrong with one of my boys. I gave them over to God, each of them. I left for work ... I was wearing a khaki skirt, a pale yellow shell and plaid short sleeve shirt.

Later that day I would wish I had worn something different. I'd wish for long sleeves and pants ... the ambulance ride was cold, I shivered most of the way from Marion General to St. Joseph.

On August 10, 2007 ... God spared my oldest son. Somehow, someway ... God chose to keep Clay on this earth. The medic in the ambulance and the burn clinic physician ... they would agree.

Clay was helping my father on the farm. It was a usual day ... cleaning up debris around the fruit trees, cleaning out the trash bins from the garage, shop and both our house and my parents. Clay had been responsible for taking out the trash and burning it for over a year. He knew safety ... He knew aerosol cans weren't safe. Somehow, the cans got into the trash and ended up on an open fire.

As the heat from the debris grew ... the cans exploded ... up and out onto Clay's body. I drove as fast as possible from my work ... to my parents home ... to the emergency room. I remember Clay's screams ... "God make it stop, make it stop ... make it stop burning." I remember ... I couldn't catch my breath ... I remember ... the smell of burning flesh.

At the emergency room, Clay received pain medication through an IV. I sat next to him, wishing I could hold him ... somehow take away the pain. I couldn't even wipe his tears ... to do so would have pulled skin from his face. I watched as his skin blistered, broke open and rolled off to reveal other layers of skin.

I listened as the nurses and doctors talked back and forth. I couldn't understand everything they said, they whispered and looked at me with sad faces. I caught bits and pieces of their words ... "skin graphs, third degree burns, lung damage, permanent scarring." The lead doctor came in, he held Clay's hand and looked at me. "We've done all we can, we'll have to move him."

"Which floor? Do you know which room?" I needed to call my husband and tell him where we were. I needed to tell him ...

"No ma'am, not here ... we're moving Clay to St. Joe burn clinic."

"What? I don't understand. Why?" I think I was in shock. I couldn't understand what he was trying to say.

"We've done everything we can here. We aren't equipped to handle this type of burn. And ... I think he may have breathed in the fumes." The doctor's face seemed sad.

I went through the motions. I filled out the paperwork, answered all their questions, told my friend to call Jerry (my husband). He had been working third shift and was home asleep. Someone needed to wake him up, tell him we needed him.

The ambulance ride was cold. I sat in the front with the driver. Clay was accompanied by a medic. Today, I can close my eyes and see that medic's smile. I remember he kept reaching up and touching my arm ... "Ma'am, your son's doing well. I'm keeping him comfortable." I remember his smile was genuine.

The burn center was hot, the rooms smelled sterile and clean. I felt sick at the smell, the move from cold to hot and then back again to cold in the waiting room. The nurse took me downstairs to fill out more paperwork and then back upstairs to wait again. Each person told me ... "prepare to be here for a week. This type of burn will require constant care and supervision ... at best." At best? What did that mean?

I sat in the waiting room, my face buried in my knees ... I knew my husband's footsteps before I saw his face. I heard him approaching and then fell into his arms. Fear, fear ... took over every inch of my spirit.

Moments later, the doctor came out with two interns. He introduced himself and then said this ... "You can take him home."

"What?" I think my husband and I spoke in unison.

"Listen, I don't know what happened but that's not the same boy Marion General called me on a few hours ago. I was expecting far worse burns and a lengthy stay here in our burn center." He shrugged.

Jerry and I followed the doctor to a room down the hall. I remember the room was white, everything was covered in thick plastic and ... it was hot ... so hot I felt sick. On the table, Clay sat with his head resting against a white pillow. The nurses showed me how to clean and dress his burns.

And ... we went home.

Later that evening, I learned the doctors at the local hospital thought Clay had breathed in the fumes. The result would've been permanent lung damage. They also felt he had third degree burns on every portion of his skin not covered by clothing.

To this day, I believe something happened in that ambulance. To this day, I believe God spared Clay's life for a reason. Someday, I will sit back and smile ... I'll say ... "That's why, that's the reason Clay is here."

Today, Clay has two small scars on the inside of his right arm. The remainder of his skin has healed ... completely.

Those scars are a constant reminder of God's mercy ... What scars do you carry as a reminder of God's mercy and grace?

Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Esther 4:14 "For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

That Stinks!

2010-02-07T12:55:00.000-05:00

"I'm sorry about the mess. I came straight here from picking my kids up from daycare. I don't have a diaper bag ... I'm really sorry." The young mom looked at me with embarrassment. She watched her 2 year old son slide off the sofa in the credit union lobby ... leaving behind a wet stain.

I had a choice to make ... judge her ... or accept her just the way she was. Accept her 2 year old son, just the way he was ... dirty diaper and all ... or, I could let my actions and body language make her feel worse than she already did.

He had blond hair, blue eyes and an orneriness to top almost any little boy on earth. He was into everything, crawling on and off the chairs, pulling magazines and pencils off the table ... ornery. His mother kept apologizing as she rocked her infant daughter and tried to calm her 2 year old.

"It's ok, really. Honey, I've got three boys of my own. Don't apologize." I gave her my best smile and handed her son a pad of notebook paper and a small box of crayons.

"Thank you." She let out a sigh and her entire body seemed to melt.

I helped her resolve the problem on her bank account and she left with her children.

Long after she left, I was still thinking about her and those two children. What was it that struck me about this young woman? Why did my heart ache for her?

My heart ached because I saw something in her ... I saw in her eyes ... defeat. A defeat I recognized all too well. She'd been judged in the past and because of that judgement, she assumed I would be upset about the dirty diaper, upset about her ornery 2 year old ... upset about the smell her son left wherever his little body went. I wanted her to know ... it's ok ...

Little ones have accidents, they have bad days, they mess up and they even act "ugly" sometimes. And, sometimes ... sometimes ... someone sees your hurting mommy heart and they care ... they care enough to come along side you and help. They care enough to say ... "it's ok" and then to help clean up the mess from the dirty diaper. They help pick up the crayons when your child throws them in the middle of a temper tantrum. Sometimes, they see your child through God's eyes.

As God's children, we screw up. We have bad days, throw fits even. How is it that when we act this way ... we want God to look past our failures and see the good in us? But, when we see other people acting out ... we judge them ...

Have you ever been judged? How did it make you feel?

Think about that ... then make the choice to look beyond other people's faults and see them with God's eyes.

I've lived both ways. I've judged others and I've accepted others. Trust me ... you will be amazed at how good it feels to love someone. You'll be amazed at what you see when you stop and take time to look with the eyes of your Father.

Jeremiah 17:10 "I the LORD search the heart and examine the mind, to reward a man according to his conduct, according to what his deeds deserve."

He Misbehaved!

2010-01-30T14:58:00.000-05:00

I watched in the typical motherhood horror as my 7 year old chose to misbehave on the basketball court. He's the middle boy in our set of "my three sons" and he loves sports. Every time a sign up sheet is passed around for a sport ... Yep, he signs up. And so, we were at the local Y for an afternoon basketball game. My husband was coaching his team and I was sitting in the bleachers ... pretending not to know who the little boy throwing a fit was.

But, he's mine. He didn't get the ball as many times as he wanted, he got pushed around by a few kids bigger than he is and (when he finally got his hands on the ball) he missed the shot. He had a lot to complain about but chose the WRONG time and place to voice his frustrations.

Beings that my husband is the coach, he took our 7 year old out of the game ... put him on the bench next to me. I gave him a stern "you're in big trouble" look and he got even more upset.

I was mad ... really mad! How on earth could my kid behave that way? Why would he think it was ok to act out like that? AND ... most of all ... didn't he realize everyone else could see his behavior? All the parents, relatives and fans saw him on the court throwing a fit.

So, now I'm home and thinking about it a little more. I do that pretty often ... think (or stew over) things my kids do. Please tell me other parents do that too ... you do right?

Anyway ... I'm thinking ... as Christians we do that same sort of thing. We're on the "court" called life. We want to be in the game and we want "the ball". The ball is different for each of us. Some of us want a job, others want a spouse, maybe some of us want children and others might want more money. In our effort to gain "the ball", we hurt others ... we end up trying to get what we want and step on other people in the process.

While we're out there trying to get what we want, other people are watching us. They see our behavior. They see us being mean, acting ugly.

Do you think God ever looks at us and says ... Why is My kid acting like that? Doesn't she know better ... doesn't she realize other people are watching?

The Coach takes us out of the game and gives us the stern "get your act together" look. And ... then ... He loves us. He doesn't stay mad and He doesn't make us feel like we're the worst player on the team.

I gave my 7 year old a hug and told him he needed to do better next week.

So, how are you doing out on the court?

Philippians 3:14 "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

Fruit Inspection

2010-01-26T19:46:00.000-05:00

"Well hello there young man." The elderly woman smiled and winked at my youngest boy.

"Hi." He gave her a bashful grin and peeked into her grocery cart.

Kregg was only three years old at the time. He sat perched in my grocery cart and talked with the stranger as if they were best friends. She told him about the things in her cart and then told him she liked the things in our cart.

A few minutes later, we left the woman to finish her shopping and walked toward the frozen section. Kregg immediately began looking over our grocery selections again.

"What are you looking for?" I quizzed.

"Just that junk that cute wrinkled lady was buyin'" He kept on digging through our selections.

"Like what, is there something special you want?"

"Nope, I just wanna make sure we don't got the same junk." He sighed and again went to digging in the cart. He passed bananas, boxed cereals, waffles and milk. Another sigh.

"Why don't you want the same groceries she has?" I wasn't catching on.

"Cause I don't wanna eat whatever made that lady all wrinkled up!"

Ok, so I admit, I laughed ... If only it were that simple. In the mind of a child it is simple and it should be simple. We finished our grocery shopping amidst a conversation on how you get wrinkles and that it has nothing to do with what you eat.

We raised our boys much the same as other parents. The typical conversation at the dinner table would include ... "drink all your milk, it makes your bones strong", "eat your veggies, they'll make you big and strong like Daddy" ...

So, in Kregg's mind, the woman got wrinkles from something she ate. At least at this point, I knew he was listening to me at the dinner table.

But, how often do I make sure my boys understand that same thing in their spiritual life? Do they understand that filling your mind with pure, right and good things ... will keep your heart and mind right with God?

If you fill your mind with junk ... than ... Basically, garbage in ... garbage out.

What we feed our minds and our spirit can change the way we behave. Spending time in God's word fills us with His light. Filling my grocery cart with the fruits of the spirit can be life changing.

So, what's in your grocery cart?

John 6:35 "Then Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty. "

Proverbs 3:3 " Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart."

Galatians 5:22-23 "But, the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control."

Too Many Cooks in the Kitchen

2010-01-24T16:50:00.000-05:00

"What did you do?" I sat my purse on the table and let out a sigh. I had just walked in the door after working all day.

"Cleaned the kitchen cabinets. The least you could do is say thanks!" My husband stood across the kitchen island, hands on his hips. He had spent his day off work cleaning the kitchen.

"Yeah, but you moved EVERYTHING! The canned goods don't go over there and the cereal should be in the other cabinet. Why would you do this?" I raised my voice in frustration.

I was too upset to see he had tried to do something nice. All I could think of ... this was my kitchen and he was "messing it up". It wasn't that he felt my way was wrong, he just thought his way made more sense. For him, his way was easier and worked out best for him. But, for me, it was like he had taken over what was mine.

I love to cook, I love my kitchen and I know right where everything is ... after his clean up ... I couldn't find anything and I was mad. This was my space. I am the main cook in our family. This was MY kitchen. For weeks after, I would be in the middle of cooking a meal and ... something was missing. A particular pot, pan or spatula. My favorite spice, seasoning or special ingredient. Jerry had really tried to help, but he didn't think about my system. The kitchen was set up in a way that made my life easier, cooking after a long day at work easier and fixing meals for my family easier. The way I had my kitchen "set up" worked perfectly for me and I enjoyed working in my kitchen.

During one of my vents of frustration ... God let me in on a little secret ... that's how HE feels when I take over.

I do that to God all the time. He's the best at what He does. God knows exactly what I need each day. He knows just where to put everything and how to mix it all together so the recipe works out perfectly. But, instead of following His lead and doing things His way ... I try to take over. I think I know a better way to fix things. I think I've got a good idea and I forget to seek His heart first. I plunge ahead thinking it'll be perfect when I'm finished.

Most of the time, I really do feel like I'm following God's heart. But, I rearrange things. I try to make things happen faster than they should. Or, I try to avoid doing things His way because I'm afraid.

At the end of the day, He's right there to clean it up and put things back in order. He doesn't get mad and yell at me in frustration because things aren't the way He left them. He quietly puts everything in order.

How about you ... are there too many cooks in your kitchen?

2nd Kings 4:1-7 "The wife of a man from the company of the prophets cried out to Elisha, "Your servant my husband is dead, and you know that he revered the LORD. But now his creditor is coming to take my two boys as his slaves." Elisha replied to her, "How can I help you? Tell me, what do you have in your house?"

"Your servant has nothing there at all," she said, "except a little oil."

Elisha said, "Go around and ask all your neighbors for empty jars. Don't ask for just a few. Then go inside and shut the door behind you and your sons. Pour oil into all the jars, and as each is filled, put it to one side." She left him and afterward shut the door behind her and her sons. They brought the jars to her and she kept pouring. 6 When all the jars were full, she said to her son, "Bring me another one." But he replied, "There is not a jar left." Then the oil stopped flowing. 7 She went and told the man of God, and he said, "Go, sell the oil and pay your debts. You and your sons can live on what is left."

I'm His

2010-01-21T18:54:00.000-05:00

I'm having surgery tomorrow. Nothing major ... but still, I'm nervous. And, still ... there are things I have to do in preparation. Like, I can't eat after 8:00 this evening and I can't have my much needed cup of coffee tomorrow morning. I won't be able to put on my make-up, fix my hair or ... wear my wedding rings.

As I read over the list of "do's and do not's", that was the one thing that got me ... no jewelry. I know it's only a short amount of time. I know I'll put them back on as soon as I get home tomorrow. But, still ... those rings tell everyone around me ... I'm married, I'm his. They remind me always of my commitment and they tell everyone else my heart is claimed. Without them, I feel ... lost. Even when I had our last baby, the nurse let me tape my wedding rings onto my finger. I didn't have to leave them behind.

I took my rings off this evening, sat them on my dresser and I started thinking. Thinking about my commitment to Christ. What is it that tells everyone ... I'm His?

Everyday, I slip those rings into place. I've done that everyday for the past 16 years and I will do it for the rest of my life.

But ... what is that I do everyday to let people know I'm committed to Christ? How do others know, my heart is claimed by Christ?

I have to admit, I haven't spent as much time in my devotions lately. I've been wrapped up in work, schedules and everyday life ... an everyday life that should be filled with my devotion to Christ. I know when I commit time to Christ and really seek Him, then I am clothed in His light and that light shines for others.

So tomorrow, as I leave my rings on the dresser ... I'll take light with me.

How about you ... is your heart claimed by Christ?

Matthew 5:13-16 "You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.

"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."

Choices

2010-01-08T07:45:00.001-05:00

"But EVERYBODY else is doing it, Mom! Come on!" I tried in my most pleading teenager voice.

No vocal response from Mom, just the look that always said the discussion was over and the decision was final. I wouldn't be going to the movie all my friends were seeing that weekend. I had lots of choices ... other things to do, other friends to "hang out" with ... but, I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to fit in and have lots of "cool" friends.

I grew up in what most would call a conservative family. Choices were made based upon our faith, values and prayer. If something didn't fit into those shapes ... the answer was "no." I always thought my parents made it look easy ... you know, saying no. Now that I am a parent, I know the decisions may have been easy but following through on them was not. Telling your children "no" can be difficult, especially when you know it will bring disappointment. On top of that ... add in the fact that you know other kids/parents will think you and your children are prudes.

This is an area I struggle through on a regular basis. All three of my children want to have and do certain things. Their ages are spread out between 10 years. So, the wants are varied. Some decisions are easy for me but then, there are others that weigh heavy on my heart. I want my boys to enjoy their childhood and have lots of friends. How do I know what I should or should not let them do?

One thing my parents always asked me ... "would you do that or watch that if Jesus were sitting there with you?" In truth, He is always with us and knows, not only what we are doing, but He also knows our every thought. My parents question was just a way of bringing Him into my physical life not just my spiritual life.

Do you struggle with this as a parent? Or, are you somehow involved in the lives of children and find it hard to balance what they want with what you know to be right?

Something my childhood taught me ... you don't have to do what everyone else is doing to have fun or joy in your life. Having God in your life ... THAT is where the joy comes from.

I know my boys don't understand this right now. But, someday, they will.

Philippians 4:8 "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."

Crazy Cats!

2010-01-06T19:22:00.000-05:00

These are two of our crazy cats. You can't really tell from this picture, but they are sitting out in the middle of a snow storm. This snapshot was taken from my kitchen, looking out onto our deck. These guys sit out there regardless of the weather. It isn't that they don't have any shelter. The barn and shed are right behind our house. The hayloft is full of hay bales to keep them warm. Nope, they've decided to sit out there and wait for food. When they were little, we used to put a few leftovers out for them. Now, they're spoiled.

They know the barn is warm. They know we'll feed them every morning. They know there will be enough food for each of them. But, still ... they wait and beg.

As I watched the snow pile on top of their furry backs, I decided they were truly insane. What kind of animal would sit outside in the freezing cold, just on the chance of a snack from me?

Then, I realized ... I am that kind of animal. How often do I turn to this world for comfort, happiness or peace? I sit at the doorstep of this earth, waiting ...

In my heart, I know there is no need for me to wait there ... begging. I know God will provide everything I need. He always has ... He always will. Yet ... I wait at the doorstep of the world. I wait for the next thing to make me happy, the next person to accept me. To be honest, I guess I'm sometimes afraid I might miss something if I leave ... like someone else might get to the "opportunity" first. While the storms of this world swirl around me, I sit there ... knowing shelter is right within my reach. Why don't I turn to Him more often? Why don't I trust Him enough to leave my spot on the world's doorstep and fall into the security that's waiting?

What about you? Are you sitting at the doorstep of the world?

Deuteronomy 8:3 "He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your fathers had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD."

When You Really Love Someone

2010-01-03T09:52:00.000-05:00

When you really love someone ... everyone should see it.

I've known this woman for 11 years. We work together at the credit union.

In those 11 years, I've never heard a cross word about her husband.

Huh? Yes, you read that right ...

I mean ... never a "he's driving me crazy", "he just doesn't get it", "he's so selfish", "why can't he remember to put his clothes in the hamper"... none of those things.

On Tuesday of last week, her husband suffered a massive heart attack. He didn't make it.

As I heard the news, I began thinking about their relationship. They were happy together. Everyone knew it, everyone could see it ... what will she do without him? I talked with one of our co-workers and she agreed. There was just something about them and their marriage.

Later in the day, my thoughts turned to my own marriage ... my husband. What would I do without him? If anything happened to one of us ... what would others say about our marriage and relationship? Does my husband know how much I love him, how much he means to me and how lost I would be without him? Do other people see how much I love him?

These are the things I love about my husband ...

His brown eyes, his smile, his sense of humor (most of the time, LOL) ...

This morning, Jerry (my husband) is at work. This past week, he worked 87 hours. I don't measure his worth by how many hours he works, but I love him for working so hard to provide for me and our boys. He was unemployed for 8 months and we're still catching up on our finances. All the hours he put in last week will get us to that goal a lot faster.

For my birthday last year, he gave me a coffee maker. One that brews a cup at a time and he gave me a box of flavored coffee to go with it. He saved a little money out of each unemployment check to buy that for me. I love my coffee maker ... but I love the fact he thought ahead even more.

When we go out to eat as a family, he lets me pick the restaurant. Even though he knows it's going to be Azteca's (my favorite restaurant, not his) for the hundredth time!

He offers to go grocery shopping with me and drives to the movie theater instead. I love those kind of surprises. He's good at that ... surprises. Like when he lights candles around our bathtub and lets me take a bath and read a book while he takes care of our boys. Or, when he shows up at work with my favorite cup of coffee ... just because. Or, he sends me a text during the day just to say he loves me and is thinking about me.

Do you love someone? Really love them ... love them with actions that speak so much louder than the words "I love you"? Yes, the words are important. But, this past week, I learned that the lack of words can say "I love you". My co-worker didn't say cross things about her husband, she didn't complain about him. Without speaking a word ... she said ... she loved him.

Thank you ... Dave and Anita ... for teaching me this lesson.

1st John 3:18 "Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth."

I Save, EVERYTHING

2010-01-01T09:09:00.000-05:00

I'm not really sure where this post will lead but, I felt like sharing my New Year's resolution. I know lots of people make the decision to ... save money, spend money wisely, drop a few extra pounds, eat healthy, be joyful ... Those are all great resolutions. But, mine is little different.

You see, I save EVERYTHING! You might not know it by walking into my home. Most of the things I save are stored in boxes and totes. They're packed in closets and drawers.

This picture is of my hutch. As you can see from the windows, it's packed full. Last week, as I hung our stockings on this hutch, I decided it was time to go through it all. So, today is the day. I woke before my boys and began pulling everything out.

I found my oldest son's teeth. All his little baby teeth, carefully stored in plastic baggies and placed in a cup (a cup we received as a wedding gift).

Every bouquet of flowers I ever carried to Proms, winter dances, homecoming dances ... all stowed in a silver dish (another wedding gift).

Beanie Babies from my oldest son's early years. Beanies that I couldn't stand to part with when he outgrew the stuffed animal age. As I set each one on my table, I remembered the occasions for each Beanie.

The cap for my middle boy's kindergarten graduation was nestled in behind a stuffed animal from my childhood. Pulling out the flowers I carried on my wedding day took me back to the "I do."

Crafts from each of my son's school days took up the majority of space. I held each one remembering ... The day my oldest son brought home a pillow with Precious Moments ironed onto the front, pinched pots from Clay and James (Kregg's will be next when he enters the first grade), Christmas ornaments from the Henry Ford Museum (not on my tree because I fear they'll break) ...

There were ticket stubs from Monster Jam 2004 and obituaries for loved ones gone. I found newspaper articles on events that touched my heart and ticket stubs from my last trip to the Henry Ford Museum (yearly vacation from my childhood). Artwork from each of my children. I think I would probably save every paper they placed a mark on if I could. This drives my husband crazy. He'll look at a colored page and start to toss it ... immediately I'm there grabbing it and stuffing it somewhere in my hutch. He laughs and shakes his head.

What's the point in all these things I keep? If they're stowed away in boxes, drawers, closets ... no one sees them. But, I know they're in there. If I get an itch to go back to my wedding day or to my children's younger years, I can open one of the boxes and ... I'm there.

So, my resolution ... it started out to be organizing all this "stuff" and getting rid of some "stuff". But, now ... now that I've held these treasures and remembered the good things I've been blessed with ...

My resolution is ... hold on to those who gave me these treasures. Enjoy each treasure and store each one in my heart.

I'm not sure what my hutch will look like by the end of the day. Right now, I'm sitting in the middle of my dining room with treasures piled on my table. I can't decide what to box up and what to keep out.

My middle boy is asking who made what and smiling because I loved his Pilgrim's hat from the Thanksgiving day program enough to keep it.

Do you save things? How do you keep/store your treasures?

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!”- 2 Corinthians 5:17

Chaos

2009-12-30T06:59:00.000-05:00

"That's not fair! Just let me look at it for a minute!" Demanded my five year old.

"No, make me!" My seven year old stood firm.

"Come on guys, knock it off." My fifteen year old tried to defuse the situation.

"Ok boys, come in here, let's work this out." I waited in the other room. No boys ... just more yelling, crying, fighting.

"Guys, did you hear me? Get in here." Again, no boys.

These were the statements bombarding my house on Monday. Each boy was completely convinced they were correct or right in their behavior.

Chaos ... that one word could describe my lunch hour on Monday afternoon.

I came out of my bedroom and made each of them sit down at the kitchen table.

"Didn't you guys hear me calling you?" I asked.

Each boy lowered their head in embarrassment ... "yeah, we heard you."

"Then, why didn't you come to me? I could've fixed the problem before it got this bad." I stood in front of them with my arms folded across my chest. A stern look.

All three of them shrugged. No answer.

As I talked them through the disagreement, something struck me. I am JUST LIKE THAT. This world is filled with noise, distractions ... I spend so much time trying to put out small fires by my own means, that I forget to listen to what God is telling me. And, then the small fire becomes a HUGE fire. There have been so many times in my life where I ended up making things worse, rather than better. All because I tried to "fix" it on my own. Or, I thought I was right and I could make others see it "my way".

If I would just sit back and listen, I would hear God's voice saying "Come to Me, let's work it out."

Instead, I stay in the world filled with noise and distractions. A world full of hurt, pain. When I've finally had enough ... all I have to do is cry out and there He is ... waiting to fix what I've messed up. He asks me, "Didn't you hear me calling? I could've fixed this for you."

Are you listening to His call today? Whatever problem, trouble you have in your life, give it over to Him. He can fix it and give you the strength to get through it.

John 16:33 "These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world."

Matthew 11:28 "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Jeremiah 29:12-13 "Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for me with all your heart."

In Plain Sight

2009-12-05T08:08:00.001-05:00

My sister and I walked past the sheet covered object a thousand times. The sheet was plain, ordinary and boring ... for two little girls anyway. There were many other things that held our interest. So, we paid little attention to the fact that something might be under the sheet ... something special.

This memory is from a Christmas in my childhood. My sister and I had begged our parents for the "Barbie Doll Dreamhouse." It had been on every commercial and every magazine advertisement for weeks and ... it was at the top of our Christmas wish list. On Christmas morning, we woke and ran to the livingroom. There in front of our tree sat the object of our wishes.

Years later, Mom told me of the way she saved to buy that dreamhouse and then hid it beneath a sheet. The dreamhouse was too big for her to hide in a closet or beneath a bed. So, she put it together and draped a bedsheet over it until Christmas Eve. Right there, in plain sight.

As Mom talked about this special memory, I began thinking about other things hidden in plain sight. Things I pass each day and never really take the time to think about what lies beneath the surface.

Things like ... the young mother struggling with her little ones at the grocery store. Maybe her husband is working long hours, she's exhausted and just wishes someone would help instead of stare at her as she tells her youngest for the third time to stand still.

Maybe the older woman who interrupts your coffee break. She might just want to reminisce about her husband who passed away last month. She misses him and wants someone to care that she is lonely.

What about that man who sits in the back pew of your church every Sunday. He's there when you walk in and there when you walk out ... do you know his name? He tries to look you in the eye, but you walk away ... you're in a hurry to get wherever you might be going. He wants someone to say "Good Morning" to him, he wants someone to notice that he gets up every Sunday, walks to church from 5 blocks away and then walks back. It's cold outside... have you ever thought of giving him a ride home?

On the outside, these things are ordinary and plain. On the inside, they have so much to offer.

The young mother is a great listener. She would love to listen while you talk about your day, your struggles and life in general. She would drop everything to pray with you.

That elderly woman in the coffee shop, she was a teacher for 45 years. If you stopped to listen to her, you would find out that she taught your Dad in school and she would tell you all the great memories she has of him.

The man in the back of your church, he's a plumber and would help you when your pipes burst in the dead of winter. When you ask how much you owe him for the job, he'll tell you nothing ... because he recognizes you from the choir in church. He loves to listen to you sing and thanks you for sharing your gift every Sunday morning.

During the course of our everyday lives, we walk past thousands of people. Do we take the time to see them? I mean, really see them? Do we stop and look beyond the exterior to find the special things hidden underneath?

I don't ... I'm usually too busy. I hurry in and out of the grocery store, I want/need to get home to my husband and boys. I tell myself that I'll stop and talk to that young mother if I see her again. I'm annoyed when someone interrupts my coffee break, I think I need the quiet time more than I need the conversation with that elderly woman. I look away and hurry past the man sitting at the back of the church. I have a thousand things on my "to do" list ... I don't have time to stop and talk with him.

Eight years ago, I was flat on my back in a hospital bed. There were doctors and nurses scurrying around, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. I spent a week in that bed. I went through multiple tests and screenings. I was exhausted, afraid .... I woke up after being sedated for a test. My vision was blurry and my body felt like it was floating. I could hear a soft, low voice whispered in prayer. When my vision cleared, there stood at the side of my bed ... a man no one ever notices from our church. He's the man everyone rushes past to avoid. I had never spoken to him, never taken the time to get to know him ... BUT ... He took the time to drive 30 minutes from his home to stand by the bed of a person who never took the time for him.

Will you take the time today? I will ...

Matthew 5:13-14 "You are the salt of the earth'; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men. You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house."

Sunday Morning Christian

2009-11-30T21:18:00.001-05:00

Words ... Words hurt, words heal ... words tear us apart and pull us together ...

What are your words doing?

Actions ... Actions hurt, actions heal ... actions tear us apart and pull us together...

What are your actions doing?

"Give me my ball back!" My seven year old raised his voice so the laughing teenagers could hear him.

"Haha ... want your ball back?" They tossed it over his head, back and forth. Tormenting him the whole time, mocking him and gaining laughs from my son's frustrations.

My son reached, jumped and ran between the two teenagers as they tossed his ball back and forth.

Eventually, the ball was retrieved, retrieved by an older child ... but my son's feelings were left ... hurt. Hurt by someone's words and actions.

This situation took place at church yesterday morning. I wasn't in the hallway when it happened. So, I have to be fair and say that my son might have colored this picture in his favor. The ball was a prize won for bringing his bible to church, saying verses and memorization. He'd worked hard for it and wanted to share it with his brothers.

When he told me the story late yesterday afternoon, I was mad. Mad that someone would do this .... in church. Shouldn't church be a safe place? A place where we and our families feel love and acceptance?

I was still thinking about it this morning. While reading my devotions, I realized something... This shouldn't happen in a Christian heart. This shouldn't happen at all. As Christians, we should have love and acceptance in our hearts ... always... not just Sunday morning.

That brought back a lesson my parents taught me growing up and somehow I lost it on my way to being a grown up ... Don't just be a Sunday Morning Christian. Ouch! Am I a Sunday Morning Christian? Do I put on my Sunday Morning mask and then take it off for the rest of the week?

While yesterday's experience was small and my son is now past his hurt feelings, I'm left with a lot to think about. I could stay mad at the other children involved. Or, I could be thankful they reminded me of something I somehow forgot ...

I think I'm going to pick ... thankful. Those other children, I don't even know who they were. I don't even know if my son's version of the story is completely factual. All I do know is ... my attitude, my behavior ... should reflect God everyday, everywhere and with everyone ... not just Sunday Morning.

Proverbs 3:3 " 3 Let love and faithfulness never leave you;
bind them around your neck,
write them on the tablet of your heart.

Tell Me the Stories

2009-11-18T06:27:00.000-05:00

"I'm starting to forget, Mom." My fifteen year old sighs and looks out the rain streaked window of our car. Fields of weathered corn stalks soak up the water as we pass.

"Like what?" I try not to cry at his honesty because I never admit that I sometimes forget.

"Like ... you and Dad say we would go there every weekend and you guys would play cards until like 1:00 in the morning. I don't remember that." He looks at me with a sadness.

"Yes, we did. But, you might not remember that part because you and your cousins were busy doing other things while we played cards." I look from the road ahead to his face. I can see he's trying to remember, something ... anything.

"I do remember playing Fuzion Frenzy. Uncle Kregg was always Samson in that game." He smiles that crooked smile of his and leans back into the leather seat. "Hey, can you tell me again about the Christmas he gave me the fish beanie baby?"

"Well, Uncle Kregg had a collection of Beanie Babies. You loved standing in front of the glass case at their house, just looking at all of them. You really liked the one called Lips. So, for Christmas that year, he and Aunt Jenny gave you one just like his." I smile remembering happy times just like that one.

"We should talk about him more, Mom. That way we don't forget him." He rests his head back against the seat. We ride the rest of the way home in silence. Each of us remembering good things and missing Uncle Kregg.

Seven years ago today, our family lost Kregg to brain cancer. He was a wonderful husband and father. He left behind a loving, devoted wife and two beautiful daughters ... an entire family filled with people his life had somehow touched. Kregg was funny ... he made everyone laugh. He was great with children.

During the time he battled this disease, I watched Jenny do what I could never do ... she was completely unselfish with her time and strength. Jenny took care of her girls and her ill husband. While Kregg fought cancer with his entire body, she fought cancer with every ounce of her heart.

On the day she lost Kregg, I called her and listened as she cried. I wanted to give her some kind of profound wisdom that might ease the hurt, the pain. There were no words ... just me listening.

In the weeks after Kregg's passing, I began to live my life differently ... in small ways. We ate lasagna in our "good living room" on the "good furniture". We watched movies in the middle of the week, on school nights. We used our "good towels" for everyday.

We started doing these things and haven't stopped. Why? Because everyday ... is good.

Is there someone you are missing today? Take time to remember them, remember their smile and laughter, remember the good times and ... talk about them.

Today ... live your life on earth so that when you pass from this world ... the earth mourns your passing and angels rejoice.

That's how Kregg lived his life.

Thank you Kregg. For showing me how to enjoy everyday goodness. Thank you, Jenny. For teaching me about unselfish love and strength through difficult times. Thank you to my two beautiful nieces ... for smiling through your hurt.

Exactly What I Need

2009-11-16T19:04:00.000-05:00

How is it that God knows exactly what I need?

The past two weeks have been incredibly difficult at work. I've been in fraud recovery for nearly eleven years ... these two weeks have been more than I can handle. Worse than any other time before ... and, I've been questioning my abilities, my place ... am I right where God wants me?

I've needed some kind of "fill up" ... something to pull me up from this place where I feel out of sorts. Have you ever felt that way? Wondered if the path you are on is the one God chose for you or did you at some point take a wrong turn?

Today, I feel like I'm right in the place I should be. No, I didn't have some divine revelation. No shout from the heavens that said ... yup that's it, you're on the right road. It was more like a whisper. One that said ... God has it all, every second of every day.

Today, I spent an hour at my youngest son's Thanksgiving Day program.

As I watched my little boy's big brown eyes dance and listened to his little voice sing those big songs ... I started thinking about his life. Sure, he's only five ... but he has a story of his own already in the making.

Kregg was our last child and a total surprise. We hadn't planned on having anymore children. Our two boys were a blessing and we felt complete in our perfectly planned family. A third child just wasn't something we had planned.

I remember the day I found out I was expecting Kregg. I felt like I had the worst flu imaginable. I couldn't eat anything, I couldn't stay awake. My husband finally figured it out over breakfast. I was trying to choke down eggs and ended up in the bathroom for the third time that morning. Jerry looked at me and said "What's going on?" It was one of those questions that we both knew the answer to.

I remember being scared to pieces. How would we afford another child? Where would we put another child in our small house? How would I raise three children and work a full time job? Would my husband and I have enough love to split three ways?

There were a million reasons why having another baby just wouldn't work. But, there were even more reasons why it would be a blessing. Some of those reasons I am just now realizing and some I will see more clearly in the future.

Today was one of those moments. A moment when I realized God knew exactly what I would need on November 16, 2009.

Today, my five year old stood in front of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles ... he sang the words he memorized and went through the motions along with his classmates. Each time our eyes met, he smiled this huge smile. The smile I've memorized. Afterward, he ran up to me ... "Mommy, Mommy!" and hugged me tight.

How did God know ... how did He know I would need that hug, that smile on this very day?

Have you ever sat back and really thought about that? Today I spent time thinking on God's amazing plans. I know each of my children are ordained by God, their days are already planned ... and, I'm sure Kregg's purpose goes beyond a hug on this day. But, I also know that my God is a God of both big and small things. He has every last bit of it planned for me and today was part of that plan.

I don't know if God wants me working in fraud recovery for the rest of my life. I don't know if I somehow missed the sign on the road telling me to turn onto a different path. But, I do know that God has every moment of my life in His hands.

Are you where God wants you?

Jeremiah 1:5 "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; Before you were born I sanctified you."

For the Love of One

2009-11-01T14:38:00.000-05:00

"What is it dear?" A quiet whisper in the farmhouse darkness.

"Clay." A simple answer as the bedsprings creaked beneath the farmer's shifting weight.

"How it is you know these things ... well, it's beyond me." She sighed and turned to switch the light on the nightstand.

Each was up, donning rubber boots and thick farm coats. The farmer's wife knew to trust her husband's intuition. After all, he had been right on so many occasions. Besides, she loved Clay as much as the farmer. She'd been there on the day of his birth and fed him from a soda bottle when his mother struggled to drop her milk. He was ... special.

Flashlights in hand, the pair walked across the yard and entered through a squeaking gate. The barnyard was quiet with night save the occasional dog barking in a far off distance. It was late September and the winds had already taken on a chill of autumn.

As they neared the barn, Farmer Jack saw Tink in the doorway ... her eyes told him what he already knew ... Clay was gone. Off again on some foolish adventure. Tink was the barn cat. She kept watch on the farm animals and took pleasure in outing any animal that misbehaved. Tink's black velvet coat glinted blue in the moonlight. She curled her tail around the feet of her master as he came near the fold.

Farmer Jack counted ... one, two, three ... eight lambs all snuggled beside the wool of their parents... there should have been nine including Clay.

He and his wife exited the barn and began swinging their lights across the fencing. Most lambs would get tangled in the barbed wire, they looked there first. No Clay. Behind the barn in the midst of wild clover, no Clay.

That's when he heard it ... the low howl of a coyote. Farmer Jack turned and found his wife's eyes. They were moist with tears.

"Those coyotes sound closer than any time before." Her voice was muffled with fear. "What if Clay made it out of the fence again?"

Another low growl ... closer still and another on the opposite side of the barnyard.

"They're circling now. Go to the barn, up to the hayloft. I won't have you walking back to the house. Not knowing those coyotes could be somewhere between here and there." He gave his wife a push in the barn's direction.

Obediently, she went where he bid. In the loft, she looked down on the yard and area beyond the fence. She squinted her eyes and tried to make out shapes in the blackness.

Clay was a curious little fellow. Since the day of his birth, Clay had been trying Farmer Jack's patience. Just when he thought there was not an ounce of patience left in his heart, Clay would do something sweet. And, that sweetness would fill him up to face the next challenge.

Clay had out done himself in the testing of fences. Literally. He no longer found satisfaction in the normal lamb rompings. Clay had already grown tired of "king of the mountain". While the other spring lambs found contentment inside the fences, Clay found thrill in adventures outside the fence. On more than one occasion, Farmer Jack had found Clay roaming the backyard in search of a good chase with the barn cat or Laddy the Golden Retriever.

Farmer Jack took hold of the long staff leaning against the barn entrance. Why was it that this one lamb tested him so? What was it that caused him to come to the barn and check on Clay this far past sunset? Farmer Jack knew ... it was a sense. Something within his heart stirred for this one small member of his flock. He knew when Clay was safe in the barn, safe within the fences crafted to keep the flock in and the predators out ... and he knew when Clay had ventured too far and gone outside the fence, out where a little lamb might meet with danger.

The sound of coyotes came closer and Farmer Jack began to call for his lamb. From the shadows, a movement near his tractor caught Farmer Jack's attention. Two coyotes circled the back tires. Their eyes glowed with hunger. Clay was there, Farmer Jack knew it. Without thinking of his own safety, the farmer ran at the coyotes. He swung his staff back and forth, jabbed at their sides. Each animal turned on him. Taking their attention away from the prey hiding behind the tires, they lunged at Farmer Jack. He thrust his staff at them, swinging it back and forth ... catching the predators on either side. Soon, the animals gave up. The far off howl of their pack called to them and they went back into the shadows.

Farmer Jack heaved a sigh, shivering from the cool air and his battle with the enemy. He moved slowly toward the tractor. Hiding beneath the tarp hanging over Farmer Jack's orange tractor, there was Clay. His creamy coat was covered in dirt and his floppy ears were wet with blood. He'd been caught in the barbed wire and snagged his ears trying to get free. The coyotes had taken the scent of his blood and found him.

Clay nudged out from his place of hiding. His eyes questioned the Farmer. He'd done it this time. A foolish adventure after dark had caused trouble and nearly gotten the Farmer hurt. He hung his head low and shivered with the knowledge of his wrong doings.

Gently, Farmer Jack reached for the lamb. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe Clay's face and ears. The farmer's wife joined them from her place in the loft. Together, they went to the house to tend Clay's wounded ears and heart.

After being cleaned and fed, Clay found comfort in the farmhouse laundry room. He couldn't sleep with the fold tonight. The scent of blood would bring danger back into the barnyard.

Sometime near sunrise, the farmer came to Clay. He knelt beside the lamb and lifted the youngster's face so their eyes met.

"Clay ... you've done wrong. Why must you always leave the safety of our fence? Why must you always go where danger awaits?" Farmer Jack's voice was soft and reprimanding.

The lamb tried to look away but the farmer's grip wouldn't let him. Tears formed in the lamb's eyes. Clay whimpered and let those tears begin to fall.

"You're sorry, I know." Farmer Jack let his hand fall and he rubbed Clay's back. Then, he lifted the little lamb and carried him in his arms, close to his heart. "I forgive you, Clay. You are one of my fold. No matter where you go, what you do or how far you wander ... I'll always come for you. I'll always forgive you. You are mine."

Isaiah 40:11 "He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young. "

The Secret Ingredient

2009-10-25T19:57:00.000-04:00

In my mom’s kitchen, there is a stool. This stool has been a fixture since my youth. It was a place for “time out” when I had exhausted my mother’s patience. It was the stool where I sat and talked for hours on the phone with my husband during our dating years. It was also the spot I sat and learned to cook.

I would sit there as my mother prepared meals for family gatherings. I watched her hands measure, mix and serve. I loved this spot for several reasons … one, I could visit with my mom; two, I got to sample everything she was cooking and three, I could learn how to cook as well as she always had for our family.

After I was married, I assumed all those things would automatically follow me to my kitchen. I wanted those same things in the kitchen I would share with my husband and someday children. I remember the day I unpacked all my kitchen wares. Each utensil and canister had a specific place. I chose the place according to what I had seen in my mother’s kitchen. I unpacked countless recipe books and hand scribbled recipes from my youth. I recall thinking how great it would be to have my husband and his friends enjoy a meal I fixed with my own two hands.

Surprise, I found I could NOT cook! I made a disaster of recipe after recipe. I tried so hard and got myself so upset, I made silly mistakes … like the time I mixed up the measurement of sugar and salt in a pumpkin pie. Yes, I did! I put a cup of salt into a pie! I wanted desperately to make “biscuits and gravy” for my young husband. I wanted it to taste just like my mom’s and his mom’s gravy. I had the recipe and all the perfect equipment. Why wasn’t I achieving my goal?

This entire frustration came to a boiling point when I was about 7 months pregnant with our first son. We had been married 8 months and I still did not know how to make gravy. My husband was craving it and our moms lived about twelve hours away. So, there wasn’t a simple fix of driving to our parents for a quick satisfying meal. I called my mom … she said yes I was putting in all the right ingredients. I stewed and fretted … and then my husband did something that I nearly beat him over! He called his mother and gave the phone to me … he told me to listen to her and do it her way. Oh yes, he did! My mother-in-law is a great cook ... one to take advice from and I love her ... but in that moment, I wanted to be the great cook. I didn't want another woman telling me what I was doing wrong. We can laugh about this now but as a very pregnant woman … this was not funny and not a happy moment. I listened and did it … still it didn’t work.

I ended up calling my mom and telling her I was a complete failure. I couldn’t cook my husband’s favorite meal and I had boiled my frustrations over a phone call to his mother. There was a moment of silence … then, my mom’s soft laugh.

“Aine Marie, did you remember the love?”

“What are you talking about Mom?” I was not in the mood for any hidden meanings.

“It won’t taste the same without the love.”

Stop and think about that for a minute … It’s not the same without the Love. I ended the call and spent a lot of time thinking about her words. I had used up so much energy trying to perfect my cooking skills. I was doing it for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to impress everyone with my abilities. I wanted … I wanted … in all my wanting I forgot about the wants, desires, needs or pleasure of my husband.

This situation reminds me of my walk with God. And, it reminds me of the scriptures in 1st Corinthians 13 “The Excellence of Love.” We can do all sorts of things trying to find a perfect recipe for salvation and pleasing our Father. But, if we forget to do it with love … it just doesn’t come out right.

Today, when I make a meal for my family, the most important ingredient ... the secret ingredient is love. I put my love for each person into the meal.

How about you … do you remember the love in your daily walk with God?

1st Corinthians 13:1-3 “If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.”

Two Bare Feet

2009-10-24T15:16:00.000-04:00

My husband and I maneuvered across the ice covered sidewalk. The large cardboard boxes in tow made it difficult to keep our balance. Our destination was a small white house filled with children longing for Christmas gifts. It was early Saturday morning, the air was cold and icicles hung from every possible point. I looked up the steps and noticed one thing ... no festive lights were shining from the windows.

We reached the door and knocked ... once, twice and a third time. The door opened to a smiling woman still wearing pajamas. She looked from me to the boxes. I recited the speech given at each house before ...

"Merry Christmas, we're here from Operation Elf."

Again, the woman smiled and then whispered "Thank you." She reached for the boxes.

From behind her, a small boy of maybe 7 stepped out of the half darkness and pulled the door further open. His smile was huge and his eyes were bright. What caught me the most was his hair, a mohawk style haircut ... Having three boys, I know this haircut is huge with the little guys.

"I love your hair, that is so cool!" I leaned down and met his gaze as his mother took the boxes from us and placed them inside.

I glanced over his shoulder, my eyes adjusted to the half darkness and I saw bed sheets hanging
over the windows and very little furniture. Something caught my eye, in the middle of the room was a mattress. I could see tussled hair from three or four sleeping individuals sticking out from thin blankets. At the bottom of the blankets ... two small bare feet poked out.

I swallowed hard at the lump growing in my throat. We finished our delivery amidst the little boy's reciting of his Christmas wish list. I swallowed again, his wishes were not in those boxes. My oldest son and I had helped wrap those gifts. So, I knew there wasn't a Nintendo DS in any of the brightly wrapped boxes. We made our way back across the ice and into our warm car.

There were no words at first, just the quiet and exchanged looks between my husband and me. Our three boys sat in the back seat, bundled in their winter garb. I felt the tears form at the corners of my eyes ...

"Jerry that house felt really cold." On a day like that, heat would normally welcome you from the doorway. I had felt no heat from this house.

"Yeah, it did ..." Jerry's voice trailed off and he looked back at our blessings.

"Did you see those little feet poking out from the blankets?"

"No, I couldn't see past the door."

I went into an explanation of what my eyes had seen and my heart had felt. We fell silent and drove to the next delivery point. In my mind, I started a wish list of my own. I wished I had enough money to go and buy that little boy everything on his list. I wished their house was warm. I wished the provider in their family could find work and provide things for his children.

I didn't wish that because I felt those parents were failing their children. I wished them because I think those parents were wishing the same things.

That was mid December last year. Our family signed up to be part of a community project to provide presents for struggling families. We're planning to take part in the community service again. But, just taking part doesn't seem like it's enough. I am still adding things to my wish list. I wish I could do more. I wish there something I could do for those families. I wish I could provide jobs for each family.

Why is it some people pray and get a miracle and others pray and get the answer no? Have you ever felt this way or questioned this same thing?

For me, this is the most difficult aspect of my faith. With every other question, every other hurt ... I can find peace in my faith.

Why is it that one person wins a battle against cancer and another person looses? Why does one child have friends and another not? Why are some wealthy and some poor? Why do some children live carefree lives and other children endure pain? Why do some men find jobs and others don't?

These are just a small portion of the questions fighting for first place in my mind?

It's easy to say ... In God's time ... when you aren't the one facing a difficult situation. Don't misunderstand me, I am a firm believer in God's timing. He sees a bigger picture, the future and all the possibilities and outcomes for each situation. I trust His perfect timing, but that trust doesn't always mean the journey is easy. And, it doesn't make each step certain.
As a believer, sometimes I think I am not allowed weakness or difficulty in understanding God's ways. Sometimes, I feel like any sign of weakness will cause others to doubt the One I put my trust in. I realized something ... in all those things ... I'm the one not trusting. I have to trust in each situation, each answer "no" ... God is in control. My weakness lets Him shine. My fears, let Him prove His love.

In all my wishing ... in that long list of wishes ... I forgot to give it to God.

Have you ever felt that way?

Revelation 7:17 "For the lamb who is in the midst of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to living fountains of waters. And God will wipe away ever tear from their eyes."

Luke 9:23 - 24 "If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it."

This House We Built

2009-10-21T16:31:00.000-04:00

I love music, especially country music. I'm a huge CMT and GAC fan. There are numerous songs that spark memories of my childhood, my marriage and my children.

Do you have those songs? Maybe a favorite song and when you hear it ... you are immediately caught up in a memory?

Today, as I was driving home from work, Brooks and Dunn was playing on my radio. "I'm Proud of the House We Built" came flooding through the speakers. Every lyric fits the life I have lived with my husband, Jerry.
We were married just two short months after I graduated from high school.
While most of my friends were picking colleges, I was picking out a wedding dress. While those same friends were moving into college dorms, I was moving into my first apartment as a married woman.

A year later, my friends were starting their first summer break from college and I was bringing home my first son. We were barely getting by paying the bills and supporting our little guy.

At the time, I never really gave much thought to how different my life course was from my friends. At sixteen years of age, I knew my days would be numbered right beside Jerry Willis. I didn't want it any other way and I wouldn't trade my today or yesterdays for any other.

When I hear "I'm Proud of the House We Built", I see an 18 year old, brown eyed boy ... asking
me to marry him. I can feel each memory in my heart and I'm very proud of the life we built. I'm thankful God gave me a man who could love me through the tough times and enjoy the good times right beside me.

We don't have a mansion on the hill. There are usually more bills than money. But, our house is stronger than any stone or steel. Our house is built on a strong foundation of love.

One truth kept me going and holds today, lots of things will come and go ... but love never will.

What's your favorite song and why does it mean so much to you?

Luke 6:48 "He is like a man building a house, who has dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built."

My Favorite Cup

2009-10-11T11:43:00.000-04:00

This is a picture of my favorite coffee cup. Do you drink coffee, do you have a favorite mug? If you do, then there is probably a story behind the mug. A reason why it's your favorite. My cup is special because it was a gift from Jerry, my husband. A few years ago, Jerry worked for a trucking company. He was away for days at a time, traveling all across the United States. The one place I wanted to go with him was Maine. Of course, he got a trip to Maine on an occasion I couldn't be off work and the boys had things going that kept me at home. He knew I was disappointed. The trip took him several days, he drove home late at night and crawled into bed. The next morning, I got up and went to get my coffee. This cup sat right beside my coffee pot. It let me know Jerry understood my disappointment and he cared.

Not to mention the words on the cup are true ... "Crabby Till I Get My Coffee." Jerry knows me so well.

Only a few months later, my cup fell and cracked. I was devastated. Sure, it's just a coffee cup to most people but for me, it's the story behind the cup. I spent a lot of time gluing and testing the cup. It took a while for the cup to repair and hold liquid again. And, it may not look the best on the outside but it serves the purpose intended. Not to mention, I can still enjoy drinking coffee out of that cup and thinking about how it came to rest in my hands.

Each time we have company, I make a pot of coffee. Everyone knows where the coffee cups are kept. Each time, it never fails, they pass on my favorite coffee cup. They might reach for it, but when they see the crack ... they pass and pick a different one. In fact one person even pulled it out and told me I shouldn't keep it.

That particular person looked directly at me with my cup in hand and said "You should throw this thing out, no way it's ever gonna hold liquid. As soon as you put hot coffee in that thing, it'll crack again and you'll have a mess to clean up."

I took my beloved cup, walked to the fridge and put some (OK, well maybe a lot, that's how I like it) creamer in the bottom. Then, I moved to the coffee pot and poured the dark steaming liquid directly into MY cup. I held it up as proof. No leaks. I took a sip and said "It's not worthless, it's mine and I love it."

There's another reason I love this cup. It reminds me of my Father's love. Even when I fall and get "cracked", He doesn't give up on me. He picks me up and takes time to repair those cracks. When everyone else is looking at my faults and all the flaws on my outside ... He looks at my heart. He sees the me that can still be used for His purpose. He knows the story that brought me to rest in His hands. That's what He cares about. He doesn't care about the cracks or how much time He had to spend fixing each blemish or flaw.

Sometimes I kind of think about Him holding me up when someone else looks at me and says ... "She's worthless." Or, when I'm looked over because someone else looks better. I can hear Him say ... "She's not worthless, she's MINE and I love her."

Are you feeling worthless today? If so, turn your heart over to the One who can repair those broken places.

Psalm 62:1-2 "My soul finds rest in God alone, my salvation comes from Him alone. He alone is my rock, my salvation. He is my fortress, I will not be shaken."

Every saint has a past ... Every sinner has a future.

One Tear Drop

2009-10-10T21:34:00.000-04:00

There have been times in my life ... times when another person's tear causes me to cry. Thursday was one of those times.

I went to my sister's house. I stopped by to see her and my nieces. Have I told you about those two nieces? I love them like crazy. Outside of my three boys, these are my favorite kids in the world. I've blogged before about my niece who has been touched by Treacher Collins. Her name is Hope and her sister is Alex. Treacher Collin's is a craniofacial syndrome that affects the ears, nose and throat. Hope was born without ears ... only buds (or lobes). Her biggest wish is to have ears just like her big sis, Alex. Why? Because she wants to listen to her MP3 just like all the other kids.

Thursday, I was visiting them because Hope came home from surgery. She had extenders put into the skin just below the hairline and above her ear buds. This was a painful process and it was only the beginning of an even longer process. Those extenders will be inflated once a week for the next eight weeks. Ending with the effort to form ears for her from that skin.

I climbed the stairs to their rooms. Along the way, we passed family pictures and Hope gave an excited breath. "See, my ears are cute like Alex!"

I played Littlest Pets and listened to the girls tell me all kinds of stories about those toys. Then, it was time to get ready for bed.

Sometimes, I forgot how much my sister and brother-in-law handle with Hope's disability. Thursday, I was reminded as we all piled into the bathroom. My sister filled a small cup with a mixture of Peroxide and water. Hope started to whimper, Alex reached for her little hand ... it was time to clean her incisions.

Alex and I held hands with Hope as my sister cleaned the incisions on both sides of Hope's head. My brother-in-law was at work or he would've been right there with us. That's how it works for their family, they are a team.

My sister spoke soft words of comfort, calming words. That's when I saw it ... one small tear slid down Hope's cheek and landed on the bathroom countertop.

In my lifetime, I have cried tears over many things. Some trivial and some not so trivial. This evening, I considered how many tears my niece would cry in her lifetime. She is spunky and full of spirit. She'll endure this pain because it is the path to something she desires ... ears . Something most of us take for granted. For Hope, each piece of independence is gained at a price. That price is pain.

I realized pain is a process that is followed by healing. Most every desire we have is achieved through the endurance of pain. Whether that pain is physical or emotional, it is necessary.

Is there something your heart desires?

Psalm 37:4 "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart."

This picture is our youngest boy, Kregg, with Hope. They are rather impatiently waiting for fireworks to start at our annual 4th of July cookout.

Mama's Hands

2009-10-05T22:23:00.000-04:00

Have you ever seen the movie "Beaches?" I love the movie. I cry every time I watch it ... I love movies that make me cry and ones that make me think. "Beaches" does both.

The entire movie is based on the friendship of Hillary and CC. Two girls from completely different backgrounds. We watch them become childhood friends and follow that friendship through adulthood. One scene in particular captures me. Hillary had found out she is ill and dying. Her little girl is sitting on the beach with her and makes a comment that they have the same hands. Hillary begins searching for a picture of her mother's hands. It was extremely important to her and CC (her friend) helps her find it. She holds the picture and compares her hands to those of her mother.

As I look through pictures of my own mother, I see the resemblance in my hands to hers. But, it's not the physical comparison that matters most to me. It's the emotional, spiritual comparison that I'm after.

Her hands held me when I was a baby, when I cried and wanted rocking. Her hand held mine while I learned to walk and her hand let go at just the right time for my independence.

Those same hands administered a swat to my backside when necessary. Which seemed to be rather often for me ... I was strong willed and still am.

Her hands could be found baking various things during the holidays. I recall a family friend who moved away and when I saw him years later ... his first comment was "Does your mom's kitchen still smell good?" I looked at him oddly ... and he said "What, you don't know what I'm talking about? You're mom was always baking something and it always smelled so good. I could go for some of her cinnamon rolls right about now."

Those hands decorated our home with Christmas ornaments. They washed my clothes and my face. They held me when I was a teenager and needed a safe place to figure out how to make my own way in this crazy world.

They wiped away tears of disappointed when I lost my first art competition, broke up with my boyfriend and buttoned up my wedding dress. They were there when I had my first miscarriage.

Those hands folded in prayer for me, my sister and our own families.

All of these things were done with two hands.

I stretch my own hands out and look at them. What are my hands doing? Do my boys have my hands? And, what will my boys remember about my hands?

My prayer is that I am using my hands for the purposes God intended. I want them to give love to my husband and boys. I pray they are a safe place for my children and a comfort when my boys need someone to hold them.

What are your hands doing? Whether you are a father, mother, daughter, son or somewhere in between ... God has a purpose for your hands ... for you.

Proverbs 22:6 "Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it."

Proverbs 14:1 "The wise woman builds her house. But the foolish pulls it down with her hands."

Walnuts

2009-10-03T20:19:00.000-04:00

My husband and I built our home just across the yard from my parents. Between my parents house and ours there is a gravel walkway. I couldn't even begin to number the times my boys have ran back and forth across that walk. The boys have carried goodies home from Grandma's and jogged back for lawnmower rides with Grandpa. I, myself, have ran across to gain comfort from my parents when a workday has been especially stressful.

During the summer months, the walk is shaded by a large walnut tree. When the days grow cooler, those walnuts begin to fall and cover part of the walk. This season in particular, the tree produced a large amount of walnuts. I started noticing them scattered across the walk and even part of my driveway. Just this past week, the green balls took over and chocked out any semblance of a path. Our boys used them for batting practice and putting practice. The cats played with the smaller walnuts, batting them around, chasing them and jumping back and forth between the ever growing numbers.

On Wednesday, I decided we better do something about the walnuts. It was getting so we couldn't walk to my parents or them to our house without tripping. So, after school, the boys joined me in the driveway with buckets to collect the pale green balls. We filled one five gallon bucket and turned to see our progress. Honestly, it didn't even look as though we had made a dent in the amount of nuts. There was still this ocean of nuts between our houses. Another five gallon bucket, a little progress ... at least we could see the gravel peaking from beneath the nuts.

My seven year old stopped mid stride, toting a bucket and sweating from the work. "Man, Mom ... this is hard work, it don't even look like we did anything yet!"

I stopped beside him and tussled his hair. "You're right, there are still lots of nuts. But, let's keep going, we'll get it done."

He sighed and heaved the bucket along, collecting nuts as he went. I stood straight, arching my back and realizing he was right. This was pretty hard work. And, in that moment, I saw something.

I saw my life and my walk with God. There are times when it's easy, when the weather may be hot but I walk in the shade He provides. Then, there are difficult times. Those times are usually a result of my own poor choices. My poor choices seem like those walnuts. They scatter across the path between me and God. If I don't take care of the poor choices and clean them up, I find myself tripping and I can't make my way to the comfort He is waiting to give.

Sometimes, there are so many nuts on my path, I feel like giving up. I want to walk away from the hard work and ask somebody else to clean it up for me. When I feel that frustration start to take over, God is right there telling me ..."You're right, there's still a lot of hard work to do. But, keep going, we'll get it done."

How are you feeling today? Is your path cluttered with walnuts (poor choices)? Join me in the hard work, clean the path leading from your house to His heart. He's right there waiting, encouraging you and telling you not to give up.

Psalms 119: 2 "Blessed are they who keep His statutes and seek Him with all their hearts."

1st John 2:1-2 "My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. 2He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world. "

Sticks and Stones

2009-10-03T04:00:00.000-04:00

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words will never hurt me."

I think we've all heard this phrase a time or two. During my grade school years, this was a taunt on the playground. It was usually accompanied by the sticking out of a tongue or an ugly face made to be cruel.

Have you said something ... done something lately without thinking? Have your words been chosen with little regard for how they may hurt?

I wish I could say this happens only in our youth. But, it doesn't ... adults are guilty of this perhaps even more often than children. And, Believers are guilty of this same shortcoming. We are no exception to this fault, we sin and fall short. In thinking about reckless words, I've come to a realization that this is directly related to judgement. Our judgement of others. Don't misunderstand me, I believe we should hold one another accountable. However, I feel there is a big difference between holding someone accountable and judging someone.

Holding someone accountable is to go to them with love in your words and let them know you disagree with something. Whether it is something the person has done, said or a particular behavior ... you are to go to them in private.

Standing in judgement of someone is to "wave a flag" of disapproval. That flag draws attention of others to the person's behavior or actions. It demeans the person and hurts them.
Angry, critical or reckless words are like bullets. Once you pull the trigger, you can't take back that round. No matter how hard you try or how much you wish those words out of existence ... you can't. Long after you've forgotten the words you shot, the hurt goes on. The person you hurt plays those words over and over again. The sting of your bullet doesn't easily heal.

Putting down the gun filled with bullets of angry words takes the help of God and our own personal discipline.

Years ago, my Uncle Leonard gave me a "life lesson." I was young and making a point to let my uncle know exactly how "bad" another child had been. He stopped me mid sentence, took my hand and bent my fingers so I was pointing at him. He asked me "How many fingers are pointing at this other kid?" My answer was "one." Then, he asked "And, how many fingers are pointing back at you, kid?" I remember looking at my hand and the realization of his point hit me. There were three fingers pointing back at me.

In that moment, he taught me something. Don't misunderstand me, there are days when I fall short. I judge rather than hold someone accountable. I say hurtful words rather than words of love. But, I try to remember the lesson he taught me.

Sawyer Brown has a song about this very subject. If you haven't heard it ... find it and listen to it. I believe the title is "They Don't Understand". The song tells judgement from the heart of the judged.

How is your heart today? Do you have scars left from the shot of someone's angry words? Have you been the one shooting bullets of anger or criticism?

Matthew 7:1 "Do not judge or you too will be judged."

Life

2009-10-02T22:35:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, our church family celebrated the life of a beautiful young mother. Her life on earth was cut short by cancer. What happens when you hear the word cancer? For me, I feel like my very breath is snatched away. It frightens me because there seems to be no way to prevent it from happening. It makes me think a lot about my own mortality.

Something about this woman ... her life and death ... Something shook the safety net I've knit around my life. Have you ever done that? Created a net around your life to protect you from the world and all its sadness? I do that ... a lot. I think I am healthy, so I won't get sick. I'm a safe driver, so I won't be involved in a car accident. I don't smoke, so I won't have breathing or respiratory issues. I don't drink to an excess, so I won't have liver damage. My children and husband are healthy. I have a full time job and benefits. So, death, injury and financial struggles aren't going to touch my life.

But, then I learned this woman had cancer. A form of cancer someone her age, health and background of life should not have. And, I realized, it doesn't matter what I do, I can't stop death or sadness.

The only thing I can do ... make my life, every moment of it ... matter, count. To live my life so in the moment I pass from life on earth into life in the hereafter ... my loved ones mourn and the angels rejoice. I haven't been living that way. Lately, I've been too wrapped up in my own work and wants.

Today, I want to say ... Thank you, Angie. Thank you for your life and death.
Your death has reminded me of things I take for granted. Your passing made me realize there are things I should be enjoying, because tomorrow isn't a guarantee.

Today, I will stop to color pictures with my 5 year old instead of doing the dishes. I'll listen to my 7 year old talk about football and StarWars instead of doing the laundry. I'll talk to my 15 year old and let him share his thoughts, feelings. And, I'll let my husband know how much I love him, I need him and ... even after 16 years of marriage ... I still love it when he stops to see me at work with a cup of coffee or even just to say "hi."

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away. Cherish the memories, the laughter and love"

A Stirring of Echoes

2009-09-25T06:47:00.000-04:00

Somewhere between my childhood and my life as an adult, there are echoes. Reflections of sounds from days gone by. I recall moments from my youth. I sit and allow memories to pass through my mind in a parade of black and white images. There are some images stamped upon my memory in colors muted by age. Others I remember and others I wonder if possibly I only recall because of pictures.
So, I close my eyes and think ... what do I remember?
Milkshakes and popcorn. My sister and me all curled up under the blankets on my parents bed. I remember watching reruns of The Honeymooners. What was it Ralph always said to Alice during one of his many temper fits? "One of these days, Alice ... straight to the moon!" But, at the end of each 30 minute show, Ralph loved Alice ... over the moon.
Vacations to Michigan, The Henry Ford Museum. The Old Car Festival in the village and my dad telling stories about the different vehicles he rode in during his childhood. Music from days gone by pumping from the street speakers. Lots of people dancing and my parents laughing. Feeding the fish from red and white striped boxes of popcorn.
My parents in gray sweatshirts. The ones with SHS Cheerleader Parent printed on the front. The two of them, sitting on bleachers in the heat, cold, rain or snow ... watching my sister and me cheer for the home football team.
Me, leaning against my mom when my first boyfriend broke my heart. Her, not saying anything, just letting me cry. Now, I'm thankful he broke my heart and she just held me not trying to fix it. I met my husband a year after that heartbreak.
Mom sitting out in front of the local McDonald's until midnight, waiting for my late shift to end and her to drive me home. It never mattered how late it was, she didn't complain. There was always a smile and "How was work tonight?"
In every memory, I can hear the people I love ... their voices and laughter. Echoes from my past. Reflections mirrored in pictures. I wonder what my boys will remember when they are all grown up and on their own. Will they hear my laughter, feel my hands on their faces and my kiss on their cheek? Will they recall the love their father and I share?
What do you remember about your childhood? Are there pictures that stir echoes in your mind?
Wherever you are today, whatever your schedule ... take time to make memories with the ones you love.

Sacrifice

2009-09-20T16:39:00.001-04:00

I met someone this week. I've worked with this person for about 5 years and known her for that same number of years. But, this week ... I really met her. Do have someone like that in your life? A person you meet, you enjoy their company and you think you "know" them ... until they share a part of their life with you and all of a sudden, you really know them? I've always thought she was a nice girl, pretty and all around good gal. However, while at work last week, she shared a story with me. A story that has changed my daily thought process.
She told me of her mother's death. You see, her mother was diagnosed with cancer while pregnant. At that time, she had a choice. Receive treatment for the cancer, saving her own life and sacrificing the life of her unborn child. Or, she could protect her unborn child and sacrifice her own life. She chose the latter. My friend's mother passed away only two months after giving birth to her one and only child.
After hearing this, I asked ... "How did you turn out to be such a nice person when you have experienced so much pain?" Her answer came easily. She told me this ... "I wake up each day and am thankful for that day. I live it the way I know my mother would have me to live it. I do that because I know she sacrificed her life so that I can live each day."
I hope her answer does something to your heart. It did something to mine. I sat there, thinking about her answer. I couldn't place the feeling I had deep in my stomach. At least, not right away. It took me several days to realize exactly what I was feeling ...
Guilt. Guilt because that's exactly how I should be living each day. And, I haven't. Christ came into this world to give His life for me, for each of us. He gave His life to separate us from sin. The ultimate sacrifice ... His life for ours. Christ purchased my days with the giving of His life.
Since that conversation with my co-worker, I've tried to live in gratitude. I want to live each day exactly how my Father would have me to live it. He sacrificed His life in order for me to enjoy mine.
John 15:13 "Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends."

The Best of Me

2009-09-18T11:12:00.001-04:00

This week started the same as many others. A race to keep up with work and home. A balancing act between pleasing my employer and enjoying my husband and children. Somehow fitting football practice for our middle boy into the already cramped evening schedule. Finishing homework in time for supper, baths and maybe a little tv time. Helping a teenager with homework that doesn't look anything like what I did in high school. The house always needs cleaning. And, all the time, I'm feeling like there is something I've forgotten to do or someone I didn't give enough attention.

Have I given each person the best of me?

I'm in a hurry ... pretty much all the time. I work a forty hour week and I have three boys. Between work and keeping up with all our schedules, there is little time in between for quiet or slow time. My husband wants me to stop and sit with him for just a little while. The boys want me to read a book before bedtime. I say no to both because there is housework to do and there are clothes to get ready for the next day.

Who is getting the best of me?

This week, I took a few days off work. This morning, I drove the boys to school. I don't get to do that very often. I'm generally at work by the time my husband pulls into the school parking lot to send the boys off for school.

First stop, the high school to drop off our oldest boy. I think he's grown a foot in the past few weeks. He knows I love him but I say it one last time before he leaves the car. I watch him until he's inside the doors. Then, I pull away for the second stop ... the elementary school for our younger boys. We were a little early, so I parked and waited for a few minutes.

That's when I found it. The best of me. The me I was looking for at the beginning of the week. I planned out my vacation days. I needed some "me time." I had been feeling spent at work and the vacation days were an effort to "fill up." I needed something to help me focus, something to let me know this crazy race is worth every step and breath.

In that moment, my youngest boy asked to move up to the front and sit on my lap. Our middle boy was in the passenger seat and for the first time ... in a long time ... I said "yes." I'm usually in too big of a hurry to stop and let them in the front. Today, what would it hurt? He crawled over the armrest, laughing. We turned up the radio and pulled down the sun visors. Country music spilled out of the speakers and we started making silly faces in the visor mirrors.

My boys ran into school ... laughing and smiling. They turned back long enough to yell ... "love you, mom!" And, in their smiles, I saw the best of me.

The best of me is ... the mommy who takes time to be silly, the wife that stops to sit and talk, the child of God who slows down long enough to enjoy the life He's given me.

Are you busy? Do you find yourself going so fast you can't keep up? That was me at the beginning of the week. Trust me, slow down. If you do, you'll find out ... the house will get clean later, the clothes will get washed and put away later, so what if the kids don't go to bed at a set time every night ...

The best of me has been there, right in front of my eyes. All I needed to do was slow down long enough to see it.

My Son, the Snake Hunter

2009-09-16T20:38:00.000-04:00

We have this small white laundry basket. Since the day we received it as a baby shower gift, it's been the "sock basket." I hate to match socks. Other than scrubbing toilets, it is my least favorite job. So, all the socks go from the dryer directly into the sock basket. If you need socks, better check the basket before your dresser drawer. With five people in our house, you can imagine how many socks are collected. There are all sizes and colors.

When my two younger boys were around the ages of four and two, they came up with an idea. We were in the living room watching National Geographic. The story for that particular evening was snakes ... snakes in a huge pit. A brave man was sliding down a rope into the mass of vipers. I made the mistake of telling my boys I hate snakes (Note to mothers of boys, do not let them know when something frightens you! They will use it against you.) So, I'm sitting there folding laundry, watching the wonderful snake pit show. I loaded all the socks into the basket and left to put away everyone's clothes. I came back to find all the socks spread out across the floor. My boys were standing on the coffee table with fly swatters in gloved hands (their grandpa's farm gloves). Each wore a devilish grin.Hissing of all types followed. There were socks on the curtain rods, ceiling fan and every piece of furniture.

Turns out my children decided to play "snake hunter." In that moment, I made an attempt to hide my amusement. I could see in their eyes the snake pit was every bit real and my living room was a thing of the past. Those boys were in some far away place, battling the snakes and saving everyone.

As I watched them play, I thought ... let this moment last. Let them stay this way forever. I never wanted them to know the hurt of this world. Never wanted them to feel disappointment or make bad choices that just might put them into a "pit of vipers" of sorts.

I realized something ... I think God feels that way about us, His children. Think about it with me for a minute. As new believers, we are completely consumed by God's love. We follow Him in a way that most likely leaves Him feeling in total awe of His creation, His children. He probably watches us learning from His book, sharing our enthusiasm with others and just loving Him. And, I wonder if He ever thinks ... stay like that. Don't ever change. Don't ever fall back into your temptations. Don't ever fall away from me and into the things of the world.

In Romans 12:2 ("And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God."), His word tells us to live in this world but not to take on the characteristics of the world.

God calls us to a child like faith. I believe this means to follow Him in a carefree abandon. The kind our children have ... the way my boys play ... the way they don't care at all who's watching, they are completely lost in a world others might not understand or might not see.

I'm thinking of the poem ... "Dance Like No One is Watching" ... I have a different spin on that one ... "Dance as if Only God is Watching".

Luke 18:16 "But Jesus called the children to Him and said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these'.

The Prayer of a Servant's Heart

2009-09-14T18:30:00.000-04:00

A few days ago, I was visiting with one of my friends. We were talking about devotions, prayer and praise. Each of us had been feeling a bit ... dry. Have you ever felt that way? With all your heart, you want to praise God, commune with Him in devotions and prayer without ceasing. But, for some reason, you can't concentrate. You feel as though your prayers are bouncing off the ceiling, never reaching God's ears.

Even on days when I feel dry or empty, I still sit at my kitchen table with my bible open. Why? Because, I know just the sight of a believer in prayer or devotion drives Satan crazy.

Today was one of those days. I sat trying to read, concentrate and pray. It was no use. My mind kept wandering. My heart was heavy. I felt a sadness beyond explanation. Have you ever experienced a burden so great you feel as though you can not move?

A young woman from our church family was diagnosed with cancer ... I hate this word ... cancer. It comes like a thief in the night. It plunders a house of peace and leaves a broken spirit in its wake.

This woman is a wife, mother, daughter and sister. She is loved, cherished and adored. She is strong and couragous ... faced many battles in her young life. More than most face in their entire lives. This child of God has two beautiful daughters. Their eyes are bright and reflect their mother's love.

The scripture is very clear about prayer. We are to pray without ceasing, bear one another burdens and cry to the Lord in prayer.

2nd Chronicles 6:19 "Yet regard the prayer of Your servant and his supplication, O Lord my God, and listen to the cry and the prayer which Your servant is praying before You."

Galations 6:2 "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."

1st Thessalonians 5:17 "Pray without ceasing."

Our God's love is as vast and mighty as the ocean. There is nothing so great our God can not do.

Today, I am doing something I have never done before. I am offering my blogspot for prayers and prayer requests. If you have a burden on your heart, need a prayer warrior or feel the urgency of God's calling to prayer for a brother or sister in Christ ... please leave those in the comment section.

I give my word, I will pray for each request. God knows our every need, our every want and care. His promises are new every morning.

I ask each person reading this ... please pray for this woman. Pray for healing and peace from the Master Physician.

Psalm 46:10 "Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth."

The Value of a Heartbeat

2009-09-13T21:26:00.001-04:00

My father knelt in a freshly plowed field. He sunk his fingers into the soil, a handful sifted through his grasp. Another plunge of his hand, again the soil ran through like sands in an hour glass. This is where my father went to "get his spunk back."

At 64 years of age, my father suffered a massive heart attack. I can't tell you the time, the date or even how I ended up standing in the ER. All I can remember today is my father lying in a hospital bed. Looking down at him, I felt a fear I can not put into words. I remember thinking ... "My Dad is the strongest man in the world, this kind of thing doesn't happen to him. Someone has made a mistake. In a minute, he'll get up and walk out of here." That didn't happen.

I grew up in an extremely close family. Losing either of my parents would devastate me. Going through the motions of tests, decisions and acceptance of my father's condition ... those were difficult days. After determining he would need heart bypass, my father made a decision. Regardless of the doctor's wishes, he would go home for several months. Dad wanted to wait for his surgery. There were multiple reasons but the one that sticks in mind ... Dad told me he needed his spunk to make it through the surgery.

For my father, spunk came from his land, his farm. He worked hard for every acre, each parcel was earned with a steady pace of "blood, sweet and tears." He came home from the hospital and walked into his field. The field he had plowed, planted and harvested for years. He dropped to his knees and ran his hands through the soil. It was medicine for his soul.

My father made it safely through his surgery. He spent this spring planting and harvesting a garden on his farm.
Just as the heart surgeon repaired my father's arteries, God repairs our spirit. He is like the soil

on my father's farm. God's richness, goodness fills our hearts and mends the hurt in our lives. He is the only One who can perform spiritual heart surgery.

Today, if you're hurting, feel hardened by the weight of this world ... turn to the One who can ease your pain.

Ezekiel 36:26 "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you. I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."

Did They Win?

2009-09-11T06:58:00.000-04:00

I was wearing an olive-green shirt, buttoned down. Fall leaves embroidered across the front. My khaki pants were two sizes smaller than the ones I wear now. I walked back from the break room carrying my decaf coffee. My stomach was a bit queasy as I was only a few weeks pregnant with our second child. I found my co-workers gathered around a computer screen ... terrorists, bombing, planes. I leaned in and felt ill, confused at the pictures. Someone said "it's not an accident, it's terrorists." Again, I was confused. Terrorists could not get into America. Those things didn't happen in our country. Two women began arguing over the possibilities. I went to my desk and pulled up the news site. No one worked much that day.

Looking at picture after picture of destruction, I became ill. Just hours after the attacks, it was clear ... my co-worker had been right, it was no accident. Terrorists had come to our homeland. I laid a hand to my middle. What kind of world waited for my child?

For days, I sat on my couch watching the news. My husband and oldest boy sat with me. We ate meals in front of that tv, stayed up late to watch more and spent weekends watching Prime Time and 20/20. The terrorists were winning a battle they most likely didn't even realize. They began to demolish my safe haven.

Water-cooler talk went from kids, school, ballgames and movies to terrorists and fear. The terrorists were winning. They stole our laughter.

Ballgames went a little longer as we played the American anthem and bowed our heads in a moment of silence. The moment of silence lasted well into game time. The terrorists were winning, they stole our cheers.

Life changed for every American on that cool September morning. Whether we lost loved ones in the towers or prayed for those who did, life changed. I did not have a loved one in the towers. I knew no one lost in those moments.

If I had lost someone dear that day, I would not want today marked by the terrorists. I would not want to see their pictures, hear their voices or their names. In my opinion, that gives them a victory and glory ... something they do not deserve. For me, I am spending today in gratitude of the lives lost and sacrificed. I will be thinking about the firefighters, police officers, volunteers and innocent victims.

To those who lost their family or friends on 9-11, I wish I could sit down and have a cup of coffee with you. I'd like to see pictures of the people you are missing today. I'd like to hear about their lives and the memories you are holding dear on this historical day.

If you have thoughts, feelings or stories to share, I ask that you leave those in the comments section. I'm offering that area of my blog for you to pay tribute to your family and friends.

The question remains, did the terrorists win? No, they did not. They showed us our brotherhood, faith and devotion to America. The moments spent in front of the television were moments devoted to those loved and lost. Water cooler talk was devoted to the memory of those held dear and perhaps some felt just as I did ... grateful no one I loved was lost that day and guilt for that same fact. The American anthem played before each ballgame and the moment of silence ... those were a reminder of our bravery and devotion.

As you watch the news today, remember the lives given by our brother and sister Americans.

Today, I am grateful to them ... because of them I spend more time enjoying my boys, I spend more time reading my bible and much time loving my country.

John 15:13 "Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."

Tilt-a-Whirl

2009-09-09T21:08:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been on a tilt-a-whirl? You know the ride ... you sit down, hold on tight and spin around. There is no way to guess which way it will go next or how fast. There are ups, downs and crazy spins.

I rode on this particular ride with my 7 year old over the summer. I hadn't been on one of those in years and he had only ridden once before that day. We both screamed from fear, excitement and the thrill. Anyone who knows me ... you know jumping on a tilt-a-whirl was a huge accomplishment. For some, that may seem silly. Some might enjoy the huge roller coasters. Not me, I am one hundred and ten percent scared to pieces of rides.

I've been thinking ... that ride is a lot like life. There are days filled with excitement, fear and anxiety. Lately, it seems I am having more anxious days then ones filled with excitement. I worry ... about work, home, marriage, kids, parents, family, finances ...

My husband was laid off six months ago. I find myself thinking about how we'll pay the next house payment, electric bill, groceries and the list goes on. How will we afford to heat our home this winter? My boys are growing up in a world so different from my childhood. Some of those differences are good and others are a little scary. There are drugs on the school bus ... my boys don't ride the bus anymore. I won't take the chance. My job has become incredibly stressful. I'm employed as a fraud recovery coordinator in the financial industry. It seems there is a new type of financial crime everyday. Will I be able to keep up with the quickening pace?

All of these "tilts" have made me grumpy. Today, I was sitting at work thinking of just how grumpy I am and how tough things are .... basically feeling sorry for myself, something I've become pretty good at in the past few months.

Then, I heard an update on the young man I blogged about a few weeks ago. If you didn't read that blog (I Heard the News Today), it was about a teenage boy struggling with a disease. The update ... the tumor on his young brain is growing down and wrapping around his spinal cord. He's just a boy.

I slumped back in my chair, hands in my lap. My worries, problems, grumblings ... all of it started to fade.

Tumor, mass, cancer ... I hate those words. Where does cancer come from and how does it decide one being over another? How can you prevent it, how can you survive it?

I sat in my office thinking. This boy's mother, she would gladly trade my troubles. I'm sure she would rather worry about a house payment or electric bill. She would rather sit in my office with my worries than sit in a doctor's office with the results of her son's tests.

I left work feeling heavy, sick. The drive home was filled with thoughts of this boy, this mother. When I walked in my house, I was greeted by my boys. We have this special hug ... the sandwich hug. Each of us is part of the sandwich. The cheese, pickle, bun, meat. I got one of those hugs and suddenly everything just didn't matter.

I guess what I'm saying is ... sure there are troubles right now. Sure, things are scary and you might be worrying about finances. But, look around you. Today, I am thankful for this "tilt-a-whirl". I am remembering a phrase from my childhood ... "count your many blessings, name them one by one. Count your many blessings, see what God has done."

James 5:13 "Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray."

Roots

2009-08-26T20:44:00.000-04:00

My father leans back in the wooden dining room chair. His hands wrapped around a John Deere coffee mug. The coffee is more to warm his hands than his stomach. I see the look in his eyes and the crooked grin ... I know there's a story about to unfold. Mom says I have that same smile. I hope so and I hope that my children will mark a story on its way with that same expression.

After a supper of homemade pizza and a dessert of vanilla ice cream and fresh blueberries ... my husband and I join Mom and Dad for conversation. My house is always a "family circus", as my parents call it. The four of us crowd around the dining room table and visit in between the craziness of my three boys. These are times that I know I will keep close for many years.

I'm listening close, trying to memorize the details. I guess one might say I'm a bit sentimental. I'll admit it, I am. I love stories. I love to hear them and tell them. I want to pass these tales down to my children and someday my grandchildren.

Tonight, the tale was of two young boys baptized in a small creek. I hadn't heard this one before. My father was recounting the day of his baptism. I guess in all the stories my father has told, I've never wondered about his salvation. I just knew he was saved and baptized. This evening, I learned he was washed clean in a muddy creek. Right along with him ... a long time family friend, Bob. At my father's telling, I could just picture him at near nine years old wadding into the water with his friend, Bob.

I found myself wondering what sins were drowned on that day? Maybe, spitting chew on the rump of a white mule (one of my favorite stories from Dad)? Did either of those boys know the difference their choice would make for their children, grandchildren? I'm sure they didn't at that time.

I've known Bob for years. He and his wife have been a part of my life for ... well forever. I remember dancing to Donny and Marie albums with their daughters. My sister and I spent lots of time in their basement and garage ... playing ping-pong, listening to scriptures during youth group meetings and just enjoying their entire family. Bob's wife played piano at my wedding. She helped prepare the meal we shared on the day I was married. Have I ever told them how special those times were to me? I hope so.

One Sunday, after a church service, my sister and I joined their family for lunch at Clark's cafeteria. I recall Bob's oldest daughter dabbed perfume behind our ears. She said her grandpa liked the smell and it made her feel special. I know it made my sister and me feel special. Did I ever tell her how that made me feel? I hope so.

I wonder if either boy knew or even thought that someday their children would make memories together. Did they know we would need them and their stories? I see my father's friend nearly every Sunday. He and his family are a part of my past, present and future.

Tonight I'm thinking about my Dad and his friend. I'm remembering good times, special times. I'm praying my boys have special people and memories. I want my boys to know their roots and to love those roots.

Are there people in your life that have made impressions, ones that will stick with you forever? And, are you leaving impressions that will last long after you are gone from this earth?

There's a song that I love ... Randy Travis' "Three Wooden Crosses" ... It isn't what you take with you when you leave this earth, it's what you leave behind you when you go.

Joel 1:3 "Tell your children about it, Let your children tell their children, And their children another generation."