What Matters Most ... ?

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

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

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

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

"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

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 ...

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."