My Favorite Cup

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

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

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

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

"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

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

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.