Sunday Morning Christian

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

"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

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

"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

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

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

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."