Prayer in the Tanning Bed

Shhhh, it's ok to yell....

2012-02-02T23:10:00.002-06:00

Wow, it's been a long time since I've posted. I have actually wanted to post several times over the last couple of weeks but between starting a new blog here and all the paperwork we have been doing for Elli's adoption I've sorta not felt like writing much.

But after our Wednesday night worship service I've been doing a lot of thinking. And being the lucky folks that you are, you get to read about those thoughts. Wow, isn't technology great?

I don't like to be yelled at, ever. But especially by someone behind the pulpit who is trying to share, teach, encourage, etc. me in my walk with Christ. I have some really favorite pastors, none of them are yellers. Most of them are my favorites because of something they have said at one time or another that have impressed me.

John MacArthur

Take John MacArthur for instance. He's really an amazing teacher. I will bet another pastor would be hard pressed to honestly say they spend more time in the Word than he does on any given day. I love to hear him preach, I love to read his books, I have almost all of them and I have years of CD's that line my shelves since I've been a partner with Grace To You (MacArthur's audio ministry) for almost 20 years. What is it that makes me love him besides his preaching/teaching style? It's the fact that he is willing to admit that he can't always explain what he studies and concludes from God's word and yet it's undeniably there. He's not all about saying what HE THINKS, he's all about teaching what CHRIST SAYS. I respect that about him.

John Piper

I also love John Piper. I don't always agree with him as often as I do with MacArthur. He's a very different kind of man. He and MacArthur are friends but very different personalities. If I was a man, a pastor/teacher, I'd be John MacArthur. Piper is very emotional and yet, I've never heard him actually raise his voice, actually YELL at those he's speaking to. I hopped on the Piper bandwagon the day I heard him talk about "invitations". I am not an invitation person. I don't like them (MacArthur doesn't give them). I do, however, understand the logic behind them. One day I heard a message Piper gave and at the end he gave an invitation but he told his congregation that they are NOT to close their eyes and bow their heads. He told them that there is no shame and embarrassment in walking forward with the encouragement and enthusiasm of those in the crowd. He put it much more eloquently than that but you have the gist of it. He sold me that day.

Francis Chan and David Platt

Then there's almost everyone's current favorites, Francis Chan and David Platt. There is too much to say and if you don't know who these guys are you are missing out on incredible teaching, amazing writing, and a renewed hope for the future of the American Church. Both of these men have put their "money where there mouth is" by sacrificing thriving ministries to help young women in the Asian sex trade, as Chan did last year, as well as putting money, time, and safety on the line by helping grow the underground churches all over the world as Platt does with his Secret Church Seminars. They are young, honest, and Biblical. There is no "Christianity Lite" coming from their taps. I've listen and watched and have yet to be yelled at by either of them. And still they manage to enable me to dig deep into my soul and ask myself the hard questions.

My list for God

But Wednesday a man whom is known and beloved by many came to church and yelled at me. His name is Johnny Hunt. He is no stranger to Southern Baptists and may even be easily recognized and beloved by Georgia Christians especially in the Atlanta, GA area not far from where his church in Woodstock, GA is located. He, too, is a wildly passionate man, much like Piper is. He puts his whole being into his preaching and as far as I can tell walks every word of his talk. He gets his audience fired up and leaves them wanting more. That's an awesome thing for a motivational speaker but I don't want one of those, I want a Bible teacher. He did share scripture and his thoughts on many, many verses, after all, he knows his Bible. But instead of just sitting back and enjoying the evening (which is not always a bad thing to do, I'd just rather be LEARNING something if I'm sitting in the sanctuary) I was abruptly taken aback when he asked us if we made lists. LISTS???? What was he talking about? He was talking about the way we make lists of things that sound good, look good, and even feel like they are nudges from the Holy Spirit. We write them down on paper, and we pray: "Dear Lord, here is my future, here is what I want to do for you, here is what I want to do for my family, here is where I want to live, who I want to marry, what I want to devote my life to. Please bless it. Amen" Most of us just looked around with inquisitive stares all along knowing that he was about to yell at us again. The veins were beginning to protrude from his neck.

God's list for me.

This was the list he wanted us to make. He wanted us to sit down in a quiet place. He wanted us to just be still and listen. He wanted us to take a blank sheet of paper and at the bottom, sign our name. Then he wanted us to pray this: "Dear Lord, Here is my life, it is yours, make YOUR list for me, do with it as you please. I am here to glorify you in any and every way you choose. I love you. Amen."

...and the place erupted. I hated that #2 son wasn't there to hear from someone other than his father and I that it's OK to just "let go and let God" (tired old saying but more true the older I get). I snapped my head to the right to see if son #3 was paying attention. He's just beginning to dream big dreams and I wanted him to understand to make sure to leave those dreams loose enough to let go of them if those weren't the dreams that God was dreaming for him. Then I looked deep within my soul, and sighed. I thought about all the stuff I'd "written down" for God to bless. Never once spending the time to really ASK Him if they were things He wanted from the life He created to do His will and bring Him glory.

I still don't like to be yelled at. Thinking back to Wednesday night though, I wonder if he could have really spoken to our guts the way he did without raising his voice, without most of us worrying that he was going to have a coronary right there on our stage. I am pretty sure he had the attention of everyone over the age of 5 in that room. With what he had to say, maybe yelling was the best way to do it. So, in spite of his loud bursts of enthusiasm that regularly come from Pastor Johnny Hunt, I think that just for those thoughts he goes on my favorites list.

Still, I am thankful for the guy that I see regularly on our stage each Sunday. He tells it like it is, he steps on
toes and makes us squirm. He reaches for the souls of everyone sitting in front of him and desires that each of us know Christ intimately and fully. He challenges me every week and I am sure sometimes he wonders what I am thinking if he glances my way. Most of the time my wheels are turning, grinding, screeching, as I ponder just how my life compares to the life that Christ wants for me and died for. He does it all and I don't remember him ever yelling. It'd be ok if he did but I just don't think that's the way he rolls.

Jimmy Meek
Senior Pastor Colonial Heights Baptist Church

Johnny Hunt said something else Wednesday night that has me thinking. He said that if we spend more on anything in any given month than we've spent on the church we need to question it. THAT my friends is a whole other blog post.

May the Merriest of Christmases be YOURS!

2011-12-25T04:27:00.000-06:00

Today is the big day... big is so many respects. Big because it's arguably the best Holiday of the year. Big because for some retail chains this holiday puts them in the black after months of seeing red. Big because some families are spending time together for the first time in years. Big because some families are not together for the first time in years. For almost everyone in the world, today is the Big Day.

Except for some it's not. I have to admit that I am a little sad when I walk the dog in my neighborhood and I see the houses with absolutely no decorations announcing their commitment to Christmastime. Those are the houses that belong to the Muslims and Hindu's of our neighborhood. I know that they have their own celebrations that in their country, when the time comes, they get very enthusiastic over but all the celebrating in the world won't hide the fact that they celebrate in vain. Whatever it is they celebrate, whomever it is they celebrate does not promise Eternal Life with the Almighty Creator. It does not celebrate His coming to Earth to be LIKE US... YUCK! Seriously? What Almighty King and Lord and Creator would do that? Why, a King would never stoop so low as to BECOME like his creation, His peasants, His underlings.

When was the last time that thought entered YOUR mind?

Possibly NEVER? It's ok, After all we live in a Representative Republic (hate to break it to you but we really aren't a democracy and really, it's better that way) we have no real understanding, as citizens of a young country but old enough not to have members still alive that remember the origins of our great nation. It's a bit of a shame though because we cannot fully understand what it means to call Christ our Lord and King. There are people all over the world who wake up every morning to face life as citizens of Monarchies and Dictatorships. Some with leadership more benevolent than others. Regardless of how kind and gracious their King or Queen or Despot is they are completely aware of how confined and manipulated their lives are compared to ours. That is why most who live under those political systems want desperately to come live under ours.

In reality, those who become believers in those foreign lands - openly or secretly - have a far better understanding and grasp on who Christ is and what it meant for him to give up

"His divine privileges; He took the humble position as a slave and was born as a human being"

Much of Philippians 2 tells us about exactly WHO this Jesus Christ is. If you are living in a Monarchy or Dictatorship you marvel at what you read about Him. If you are a Monarch or Dictator you shake your head in disgust and assume Jesus is a lie or just insane. Maybe that is why the predominant religions of those types of political systems are not Christianity.

We have seen movies that show us story lines of princes or princesses that reject (in theory) their opulent lifestyle and by chance find someone to take their place in the palace in order that they can "live like the common man". Their reasons are always completely selfish and know that their experiment will end upon the slightest whisper of disappointment or disgust. In the end they learn lessons they need to learn about being humane leaders when their time comes but end up continuing to bask in their riches usually being a bit more gracious to their peasants and leave everyone feeling better about their futures. Awwwww.

But our King and Lord knew exactly what He was getting into when He CHOSE to be obedient to His Father and walk away from an existence He was perfectly happy with. There was no selfishness in His desire to come to earth and give up everything to experience a lifestyle He thought might be more fulfilling. Just typing those words makes me laugh at the idea of it. It's preposterous. I, for one, would NEVER do that, EVER!

That is because I am selfish, self-centered, and self-absorbed. Even when I think I'm not, I am. Even when I'm at my most altruistic I am not so. There is never a time when thoughts about myself, in one way or another, don't enter my mind. Even if at some point I were to be someone who could appear to give up everything for those less fortunate than I... blah, blah, blah. I would still, in the back of my mind be thinking about what a great person I am to do that. But you better believe the moment the whole "crucify Him" thing would rear it's ugly head I'd be calling on my "king daddy" to rescue me from the idiots that live in our Kingdom who obviously don't know a good thing when they see it.

The older I get, the more of life I live, the more time I accumulate in the Word, the more I realize I cannot fathom who Jesus Christ really is. Until the last couple of years MJF and I worked consistently to help our kids understand what really should be focused on this date every year. But until the last couple of years I never really felt the reading of Philippians 2:5-11 might need to be read on one side or the other of the Christmas story we insist upon reading before diving under a tree decorated with lights and baubles and littered underneath with packages wrapped in delightfully colored paper.

Christmas 1994

Now that my kids are older, there wouldn't be much arguing if I added a couple of verses to our Christmas morning scripture reading. I'm just not sure they'd appreciate it any more than they ever truly appreciate the Word of God. What I mean to say is this - they cannot truly appreciate Philippians 2:5-11 because they have no idea what it means to be a king and shed his royalty nor do they understand what it's like to live under the headship of a king/despot who chooses to shed his royalty on behalf of his citizens.

Here we live, in a country, I believe, was ordained and blessed by God, yet we understand less of who He really is and what He really did because of our system of government. Ironic.

So next time you imagine Jesus Christ try to imagine his walking away from all His riches, and power, and strength, and might, and walking into the womb of a poor Jewish girl knowing FULL WELL what was ahead of Him. It's a powerful picture. Makes you wish you could start all over with your kids and put a whole new spin on Christmas, doesn't it?

The reality of WHO that little baby was - who as an infant He knew He was and yet submitted to be - that's a powerful thing to celebrate...

Merry Christmas my friends. Rejoice, the Lord has come! Praise His Holy Name.

Happy Christmas Eve...

2011-12-24T02:53:00.000-06:00

The day before... that is an amazing thought. The day before brings so much excitement and anticipation. It's all in your head. You have no real idea of what is coming. Such is true with Christmas Eve. #2 son says he likes Christmas Eve better than Christmas Day. Even in his 18 year old mind and body lurks a little boy who each year is disappointed by what is opened on the big day. He's the only one that I could never really get to grasp fully why what sat under the tree wasn't really important and even less so was whether it met his expectations. I pray that as he ages and begins his own family that he will embrace what Christmas is all about, always has been, always will be. It's funny though, because we never thought our kids would be "one of those kids". After all, Santa was not a part of our lives - his name is not even allowed to be mentioned in front of dad. Dad can't stand Santa. Not because the man who existed first was anything bad but because of what he has become. Something I am sure he would recoil at and tear up over.

Santa or no Santa, it's our job to instill the level of anticipation in our kids. They always play off our lead and when we work hard at helping them to understand all that Christmas is, especially that without Easter, Christmas is meaningless (another reason we don't invite the Easter Bunny over on Resurrection Day). So here we are, up incredibly late and well into the morning of Christmas Eve. A big day for us because for #2 Son and I... well, it is our favorite. Why we love our stockings and Christmas Eve PJ's so much is beyond me but even as a child I adored my stocking stuffers more even than the presents that greeted me the next day.

It will be very different for us this year, though. We will be Skyping with #1 Son instead of opening presents together in the same room. He is so self controlled... really he is. I sent him a little tree and some presents to put under it and they are just sitting there until we unwrap them tonight and some more tomorrow. We will have church tonight as well. An evening of singing glorious songs to our Lord and Savior with thanksgiving in our hearts for His submission to His Father in setting aside his glorious body to reduce Himself to becoming a man. The humiliation is something I cannot fathom and frankly, I try not to think about it. It's something I'd never love many people enough to do. He loved a world of people that didn't even acknowledge Him.

The reality of my rescue, the hope I have in heaven has never been more real to me than it has in the past several weeks.

But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons.

Galatians 4:4-6

Many of you read this blog post. I was honestly in despair and had no real idea of how I would possibly come out of it apart from a miraculous intervention from God. And as many of you know, He did intervene. In HIS way - a typical BIG, GOD way. He sent a precious sister in Christ who with her husbands consent, brought us a check for $8,000.00. It didn't take more than a nanosecond to realize that God didn't want us to back off of the adoption hopes and dreams, He wanted us to back off of our personal control of those hopes and dreams. Yes, He could have made my jewelry worth thousands more than what we were eventually offered but honestly, would we have hit our knees praising God? Not really, we would have been thankful that what MJF had so graciously gifted me with over the years ended up being a big helping of what we needed to bring home a little lost and hopeless girl. A little girl who needed rescuing. But when He speaks to the heart of a young couple with hopes and dreams of their own. Who have their own desires to save for necessities in order to be debt free and obedient to God with their finances. And yet, this is what they say... "We can get a new car later, there's a little girl in this world that can't wait until later."

Today, we are celebrating having finished a required Hague adoption course on line and diving into required reading. All of this and more to make positively sure we are the best family for one very special, precious little girl who has no idea what awaits her. But more than a warm bed and a loving family, toys and a dog and the opportunities she never could have had elsewhere - she will hear about a King who chose to reduce Himself to a man in order to walk amidst the worst of this world and then die for those of us, the worst, in order that we could be given eternal life in Heaven with God our Father. This little girl who has never known the love of a Father will not only bask in the love of an earthly father but will learn all about her Heavenly Father as well.

So, although today is the day before ... the day before He made His entrance into this dirty world in a dirty cave, to rest in a dirty manger, in some ways it's the day before for us as well. Although it will take months to accomplish the paperwork and other requirements that come with an International Adoption, it will feel like "the day before" the whole time. Each experience in the process will be new and we will be uncertain and yet excited. We will know that each time another expectation of us comes up we may be disappointed but it's ok because God's got it. This is HIS deal in every way, shape, and form. It has to be. None of us who embark upon this journey go into it with a savings account to handle the expenses. For most, someone handing them a check like we had handed to us would be a miracle of proportions they cannot fathom, however, it is not unfathomable to God. Psalm 50:10 says He owns the cattle on a thousand hills... He owns it all. To speak to the hearts of His own adopted children to help provide $30,000.00 dollars to adopt a precious child in China is nothing to Him. That is true. But THAT is not what convinced me to put aside my wonder at just HOW that money was going to arrive. What convinced me that I needed to dive headfirst into this was that I completely trust Him with my Salvation. Which is harder to grant, Salvation or $30,000.00? Easy answer... we all know; yet we so rarely step out on financial faith.

Because MJF speaks Mandarin we are hoping
we can adopt from a province that speaks
Mandarin.

So, our 2012 journey is one that is more meaningful than any journey we've ever taken. We are embarking on an adventure to find our daughter. That little girl who God knew the day she was conceived - and even before - that she belonged to us - even if for just awhile. We believe she lives as an orphan in China. We believe, actually, that we have found her. It will be sometime in January before we are sure if that is so. In the meantime, please pray for us this year. We all have so much to learn about stepping out in faith and trusting in God for everything. We have two grown sons who, for the first time in their lives, may see the hand of God do incredibly more than they have ever imagined and for them, bringing this little sister home will signify their submission in totality to all that God wants them to be. For two younger siblings, they may find the joy of adoption to be one that will forever be etched into their being and may prove to shape the look and feel of their own families one day. For MJF and I, we are just amazed at how God works individually in our family. He knows us infinitely well. He knows that we still have years of service and that He continues to mold and to shape us into the people He wants and needs us to be. This experience will do that in the same way Rebekah Joy's death did so many years ago. We will not return from China the same family that left. Besides adding a daughter and sister He will have added supernatural changes to who we all are and who we will become.

We wait in expectation as He leads us to the daughter only HE knew lived on the other side of the world.

Merry Christmas Eve.

May your hearts be tender toward the things of God as you reflect on the sacrifice a King made for you and for me and for a little China doll in an orphanage on the other side of the world.

Memories...

2011-11-24T19:07:00.000-06:00

What memories do holidays bring? I hope they are all good though I suppose for some they aren't all good. For me, I have specific memories that rise to the surface every holiday. Thanksgiving is always the same, it includes my family and I with all my Aunts, Uncles, and many cousins all crammed into my Gramma and Grampa Anderson's home. The heat is on because we were in a little town called Sharon in Pennsylvania. The heat always seemed to be on, Gramma was itty bitty tiny and always freezing. The heat was never below 80 degrees - E.V.E.R.

Except for Thanksgiving day, the gathering place for the women was always in the kitchen and for the men, either in the living room or in the small TV room where there would be some football game playing constantly. THAT was long before cable TV and still it seemed the football never stopped that day. Gramma's house seemed to me, then, to be huge. I swear her dining room was 15 feet long and her dining room table was close to that I was sure. I know she could fit 20 people at her table - 20 adults that is.

The worst part of the day was dinner - I always had to sit at the "children's table".

Until I was about 11 or 12, the children's table was fine. Most of the children were my age or just a tad older or younger and we had fun. Usually it was just a card table or two to fit the cousins who weren't yet older teens. Or the children the adults (meaning my Grampa) didn't feel like hearing from or speaking to during the meal. Don't get me wrong, my Grampa Anderson was awesome, at least as Grampas go. But he was tough and intimidating and unless you KNEW he was joking with you, you always wondered if you were in trouble. I don't ever remember getting in trouble with my Grampa so either I didn't or I have repressed it due to PTSD.

The only problem is that I never, ever, ever left the children's table. The older cousins - those older than I as well as one my age moved away and rarely returned for Thanksgiving. My father's younger siblings began having children and before I knew it my younger brother and I were the only "older" cousins left. No one would consider asking a boy to watch the little cousins at the children's table so I was it. And as the little cousins grew in number my brother was even promoted to the "adult" table.

Unlike my daughter who would have been honored to be the one to watch the little cousins during dinner, I was completely resentful. I detested every minute of time with the little cousins BUT I am not sure anyone ever knew it. I had good parents and they taught me how to behave. I had great grandparents who also taught me how to behave and I had plenty of aunts and uncles and much older cousins who were more than happy to help with my behavior instruction if necessary. We have lost a lot with all the moving our society has done over the past many years.

I can't remember if we have ever eaten Thanksgiving dinner with our whole immediate family in 28 years of marriage. There are actual cousins and aunts and uncles that I ate Thanksgiving dinner with every year as a child that my husband doesn't even know.

I miss those days, sort of. I have fond memories - memories that flood my mind on Thanksgiving day every year but a lot has changed. Gramma and Grampa have both died. Aunts and Uncles have since divorced and remarried. Older and younger cousins have since gotten married and had children of their own and are eating Thanksgiving dinners at other homes with other family.

Kate, Sam, MJF, and Josh
Thanksgiving 2011
sans Drew

Things have changed for us as well. This Thanksgiving we are one short as we sit around our little kitchen table to eat Thanksgiving dinner. Drew is happily having Thanksgiving dinner on Beale AFB with a whole bunch of Airmen and NCOs courtesy of one of the Staff Sgt's. Apparently this is not uncommon. There are quite a few NCOs who foot the bill and invite all the young, unmarried and away from family Airmen to their homes to enjoy some form of family, even if it's their Air Force Family.

Before I know it, Sam too will be gone and behind him Josh and Kate. It seems that it will be awhile but I have learned how fast time flies. I am just hoping that as Josh and Kate grow up and leave home Drew and Sam will be returning with their own little ones and my role will change. I will be the one being called Gramma.

I guess I better start saving for a 15 foot long dining room table.

Happy Thanksgiving.

The Biggest Disappointment of All...

2011-11-17T23:15:00.000-06:00

I was raised on disappointment. Well at least that is how my father viewed me. I was always one big disappointment. He said it to me so often that I can remember the houses and rooms and furniture I was sitting on for many of the times he uttered those words. I cannot remember what I did (most of the times) to make him share that with me but I remember hearing those words from his heart to mine more often then any other words growing up. I swore I would never utter those words to my children and, for the most part, I haven't. It's not that I've not felt those feelings on occasion in regards to my family but to actually say those words, I am not sure I would have the strength. The memories I want my kids to have of life in our family are not ones that include them remembering the times I ever told them they disappointed me.

This year has been a year full of disappointments for me. I cannot remember a year when I have been so heartbroken so many times. A few by genetic family members, most by Christian brothers and sisters. With a history of being told how disappointing I was over and over again, that word is not one I use often and like the word crisis, means more than just being bummed or put out or just simply not getting my way. No, that word to me affects my gut, makes my heart feel like it's being wrung out like a wet rag and makes me wish I could not only throw up my stomach contents but my whole stomach as well. The myriad of disappointments I have felt and experienced this year have left me tear-less, there's just nothing left.

The biggest disappointment of all was/is so because I was so convinced that it wasn't going to be one I'd experience at all.

MJF and I have been excited to see how God's heart for orphans has been poured out upon many young families in our church. There are at least 3 families that I know of at our church and several other friends around the country who have sacrificed money, comfort, time, energy, and who knows what else to pursue adopting orphans from countries such as China and South Korea. All have by now either picked up, gotten travel dates or are patiently awaiting their referrals and are prepared to leave at a moments notice to fly wherever is necessary to meet the child God has chosen for them. It's an exciting time as young American couples are seeing what God has known for a long time - that He is tender toward orphans and holds them close to His heart and that we who have so much should as well.

Unknown to most MJF and I have been on the adoption trail for quite a while. Longer than most of our adopting friends have been. To me, this is a no-brainer because I know how God wants His people to care for those without fathers and mothers. A no-brainer because I know how many orphans really exist in this world and it's shameful. A no-brainer because not one of my children would fail to delight in bringing a precious 6 or 7 year old little sister into our home and love her and introduce her to her Heavenly Father and raise her to know the joy of a forever family. A no-brainer because I know my God and I know that He can do anything and in spite of the sinful expense of adoption, He can overcome something so trivial.

What I was not prepared for was for Him to choose not to overcome something I thought was so trivial to Him but such a mountain to climb for us. See, we don't have a huge savings account, we have 4 children, 2 of whom have been going to college - for cash. We don't have any friends or family members that we felt had such a heart for adoption that we could prayerfully consider asking for large or small donations toward the cost of adopting. MJF doesn't work for a company or organization that reimburses part or whole amounts paid for the process. And after years of paying down debt, we didn't feel like God was leading us to take out a 25 thousand dollar loan to adopt a little sister for Kate (although I would have).

What I did have was jewelry, diamonds to be precise. For our 25th anniversary MJF paid, in cash, thousands of dollars for a ring and necklace custom made for me. Those were meaningless compared to what we believed the life of a precious orphan from almost anywhere in the world would be worth. In the depths of my being I knew that those plus a few other pieces of gold and a couple other gems would cover at least 3/4's of the cost. The rest we could raise or earn through other means, we were certain of it.

What I wasn't prepared for was the lack of interest in our "plight". We had hoped that one of the store owners that we offered our jewelry to would consider selling it for us and would not take any profit for themselves. That wasn't to be. What they offered, and we had several prospects, was a fraction of their worth in order that when sold they would make quite a penny. What I was sure would happen failed to materialize. I was sure God would coordinate all the people and all the events and all the circumstances necessary in order that we would be able to dive head first into our adoption adventure and not be concerned with how we would afford to do it.

What really took me by surprise was how hard it was going to be to help Kate understand what God was doing. The challenge has been insurmountable because I can hardly understand it myself. For almost a year now I have been dragged kicking and screaming into conversations about how much she wants a little sister. What a great big sister she would be and the tears would flow in buckets as she would try to catch her breath to ask "but why?" Over and over again offering every last Christmas and Birthday penny she would ever get in her whole life just to be able to afford to adopt a little sister. And I would try over and over again to explain once more why I can't explain it, why I am just as sad as she is, why I don't understand God's decision but that I know it's the best because He never makes mistakes. Again and again two or three times a month I feel the life sucked out of me in these conversations not because I don't want to have them with her as much as I am struck with fear at the thought that somehow I cannot adequately explain to her God's desire to withhold from her something so obviously... well... something so obviously Godly.

So, again tonight, I had to maintain my composure just long enough for her to dry her eyes and me to escape into the chill of the night with the excuse of walking the dog. There, in the pitch black, I sobbed from the depths of my being to God, asking Him why... a question I rarely ask... and being reminded that this year, 2011, has been full of one disappointment after another.

Typically, when I find myself face to face with God on those walks, all alone, I finish my walk with some spiritual nugget that enables me to push forward and see the value of the trial or the struggle or the confusion. Tonight, however, I have no spiritual nugget. I only have the simple cement slab of faith and trust that started my journey with Him almost 30 years ago. It's enough for me in spite of my pain and sadness and confusion to cover the disappointments this year has brought. I pray that I can hand down that same faith and trust to my daughter so that she too will, one day, be able to get past what to her, so far, has been the biggest disappointment in her life as well.

I'm getting old...

2011-10-11T00:17:00.000-05:00

I think I am beginning to turn into an old lady. I feel I have been forced to change the look of a blog that although I have ignored it, I liked it and I have had good intentions toward it. I really have wanted to write, really I have. I have just, lately been afraid to.

To get back to the old lady bit... you know you are getting old when you start to really hate change. Could it be that you begin to realize that there is a difference between change for change's sake or change that really matters?

This has been a big time of change for me. I have watched this happen:

Josh at 3

My #3 son grew up.

Josh at 13

I knew he would eventually do it. They all do. I had just hoped he'd love me enough to want to change the course of history and stay my sweet young boy forever. But, alas, twas not to be and here he is, my last precious son moving at lightening speed toward manhood and there's nothing I can do about it. EXCEPT.... enjoy it.

I'm currently enjoying #1 son's stopover between Air Force tech school and his permanent duty station at Beale AFB outside of Sacramento, CA. Yes, I will have to hug him goodbye, most likely before this weekend for what could be 6 mos to a year. I am looking forward to that and dreading it all at the same time. Is that possible?

#2 son went from being a bagger at Kroger to becoming a Pharmacy Tech. That has changed everything about him. I'm enjoying that, too. It doesn't mean he knows what he wants to do with his life but it does mean he's becoming slightly more serious about life in general.

Raising men is hard. It weighs on me daily. Some days more heavily than others but never-the-less, the weight is there. I used to think that the weight would eventually go away. I actually do things to try to throw it off but if I have to be honest, and here, on this blog, I want to be even if I hold back at other times, I don't think the weight will fully leave my shoulders. Sending them off to the Air Force or College or even off with a friend out of state for 10 days doesn't change who I am to them or who they are to me. Just because I can't see them doesn't mean the impact of who I am to them is any less. It may be different but I am not sure it's lessened.

I'm not sure I'm happy about that.

I'm tired, boys, I'm getting old. How about we make a deal? I'll work hard to happily adjust to all these changes if you decide to change for a purpose, a vision, a goal. Don't change or create a change just out of boredom or "adventure" give me a reason and I promise I'll rejoice in it with ya'...

And so it begins.... again....

2011-08-13T01:03:00.000-05:00

Airman Drew Michael Farhart
It's official

So, my last post was saying goodbye to Son #1 as he left for Air Force Basic Training and since then we have watched him graduate and look like a man we never thought existed. He's now in Wichita Falls, TX beginning his training to be a Crew Chief for an A10 - Thunderbolt. A very cool, very important plane. He will go from Sheppard AFB to a base in AZ in a couple of months. From there we think he'll come home for a couple of weeks and then head to his official base of choice which if it truly is his choice will be Osan AFB in S. Korea... hmmmm. I hope he gets to go there and to a ton of excellent places all over the world. I hope he can meet a phenomenal girl who wants to spend her life with him as his Helpmate and travel with joy. UNTIL, of course, they have my grandchildren.
No, really, I won't be like that but it'd be cool if it was that easy... really.

A- 10 Thunderbolt
AKA The Warthog

But now, school has begun and we must accept our summer fun as merely memories and get to work, hard work, because that is what this time of year calls for... drat!

I do have to admit that I like the scheduled aspect of our lives when the pseudo fall rolls around. Most of the US can totally relate to why I call it the "psudo fall" after all... 95 degrees on August 12th really? Even in MS that is just crazy!

So, I will try (as I promised so sincerely before) to keep up with this blog. It's good for me and every now and then I say something that you can relate to and admit it, you breathe a sign of relief knowing there is at least one other person out there that feels, does, forgets, etc the same thing that you do.

Thanks for hanging in there with me for so long.

More to come...

Promise....

Off we go....

2011-06-06T13:13:00.006-05:00

.... into the wild blue yonder,
Climbing high into the sun;

Here they come zooming to meet our thunder,

At 'em boys, Give 'er the gun! (Give 'er the gun!)*

Down we dive, spouting our flame from under,

Off with one helluva roar!**

We live in fame or go down in flame. Hey!***

Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!

So what have I been saying?

" I'm excited to see him go; he's on the adventure of a lifetime."
" It's time, God predestined such a time as this; it's a good thing."
" He's ready to move on and start his life; we are so excited for him."

Yes, I have said all those things and I believe all those things so, why can't I stop this one little stream of tears from constantly needing to be wiped from my cheek?

Minds of men fashioned a crate of thunder,

Off we go into the wild sky yonder,
Keep the wings level and true;
If you'd live to be a grey-haired wonder
Keep the nose out of the blue! (Out of the blue, boy!)
Flying men, guarding the nation's border,
We'll be there, followed by more!
In echelon we carry on. Hey!
Nothing will stop the U.S. Air Force!

He's been to the recruiter today to make sure he's got everything he needs and leaves behind stuff he doesn't. He's got advice from those in "the know" about what to expect and to avoid. He' having lunch with Craig Brown, his youth/college pastor. Craig prayed an amazing prayer for him at the end of service Sunday while what seemed like throngs of people came forward to lay hands on Drew and all of us as a family. Praying for his safety, of course, but mostly for his opportunity to stand firm for Christ and his opportunity to bear witness to the One True God.

Sent it high into the blue;

Hands of men blasted the world asunder;

How they lived God only knew! (God only knew then!)

Souls of men dreaming of skies to conquer

Gave us wings, ever to soar!

With scouts before and bombers galore. Hey!

Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!

So almost 21 years ago we started with just a tiny family of three not knowing what all God had planned for us. And now, here we are, a family of 6 (or 7 if you count our precious Rebekah Joy happily rejoicing in heaven with her Savior). One by one adding another little pink toothless face to our quiver, praising God for each blessing. Now here it begins, one by one, hugging, no clutching each one as they smile their manly smiles, flex their manly muscles and pull away to begin their lives, their adventures, away from the place and the people they called home for all their lives. It makes the mama in me almost want to vomit. It makes the obedient servant of the Lord in me rejoice in the knowledge that we did all we knew to do to raise our children to love Him, obey Him, live lives for Him

In less than 24 hours I will hug good bye the only #1 son I've ever known. In 9 weeks I will have a chance to hug him again but this time he won't be the same kid I hugged good bye. He will be a man.

Congratulations Drew
We are so proud of you!
We love you

The month of Drew draws to a close, and a few more surprises.

2011-06-01T22:49:00.000-05:00

Drew at his last big formal event before leaving home

So, here it is June 1st and Drew is still here. It's because he was never going to leave on June 1st, he was always going to leave June 7th we just somehow got it all mixed up. I'm glad though, I have another week with my son and the Month of Drew becomes the Month of Drew plus 1.

It turned out to be just as I had thought - not a lot of meeting his every need. He's not a needy kid. Well, in a month and nine days I can't even call him a kid anymore. He'll celebrate his 21st birthday doing sit ups and push ups and trying to get his 1 1/2 mile run time down. But it's all good because it's time for him to step up and step out. That's what we spent the last 20 years doing... raising him to leave.

May was a pretty amazing month. It started with organizing what was needed to officially graduate #2 son, Sam, from High School. It's a bummer, in a way, that he didn't have a stage to walk across, however, I can't imagine him even feeling comfortable in front of all those people. I think he'd choose taking college classes over walking a stage any day.

Congratulations Sam
Class of 2011

I know he's relieved. His brain has been tired, he's been tired. He's working about 20 hours while taking a full load of college courses. He's due a rest. He's taking a year off to work closer to full-time and save some money for his last two years of college. It's hard to believe that in another year my home will be reduced to two children.

Kate was another kid who had me going hot and heavy. She had a choir concert only days after her ballet performance. It was amazing to watch her dance again. This year, instead of a bunch of different classes coming out and doing a dance for people who are dying for some OTHER class to dance, one of the dance instructors wrote a ballet. It was based on "The Parable of the King" by Beth Moore. It was beautiful and it was an excellent opportunity for the Upper School kids to participate in something awesome for the Lord.

Kate's class were the animal creatures.
Cute duck...

All of this kept my mind and my heart busy. Keeping me from reflecting on what this house will be like with one less person. And not just one less person but my friend. Drew is the one that would talk with me for hours. He loved to talk politics, economics, eschatology, theology, you name it, he would discuss it with joy. He and I love to listen to Rush Limbaugh together and while I hated to listen to the extreme liberals go on and on and on, he'd love to listen to them and laugh and I realized how much of his own person he was becoming then. He's like me, in a lot of ways, poor kid. He's better though. He can have a conflicting conversation with anyone and then in the end, agree to disagree and move on to the next "event". I have never been good at conflict, I never will.

I'm excited for him. He has so much of life ahead of him, so much adventure he has no idea he's about to meet head-on. He's got a precious girl waiting out there to be his wife. He doesn't know her and she doesn't know him but God knows both of them and He has plans for them. He has places to go, people to meet. It's all one big adventure. And he will do it apart from me, apart from us. THAT is the one thing that I will have to get most used to. Day after day, I am a part of his life. It's not that I'm nosy or a nag or force myself into his business it's just that we have moved somewhat past the "mom and son" relationship to as close to friends as a mom and son can be. We talk about a lot and I know what's going on inside his head and within his life. In less than 7 days he will live day after day after day without me knowing anything about his days. I won't know about the good, the bad, or the ugly.

It's ok, that's the way it's supposed to be, that's the way God designed our families. I feel sorry for the parents who dread the day their children leave and begin their lives away from their childhood home.It'd be foolish of me to think that I won't spend some time wiping tears this summer. It's a big transition. But my heart isn't really sad. My heart is filled with excited anticipation at what the Lord has in store for my #1 son. Lord willing, the next picture I post of Drew will be in his Air Force uniform.

Oh, and I'm nursing a hurting husband just home from the hospital after hernia surgery. He's got until Sunday afternoon to feel good enough to board a plane because at 1:30 he's off to yet ANOTHER super secret location for two weeks. During that time I will be painting and painting and painting in order to move Sam into Kate's room and Kate into the room Sam and Drew shared. I am hoping that all that work helps the summer go quickly. I don't usually wish my summer away but I can say that I will be excited to drive to San Antonio and watch my son graduate from Basic Training. After that, I think I will be better able to rest in the place God has for me right now... at least for another year, when #2 son moves off to college, but that's another blog post.

And in the midst of all this, I choose to begin another blog. WHA????? you ask completely confused? After all, I've not been known to keep up with this blog as much as I should. But this one is hopefully not going to last long - mainly because it is one that I am using to help me do something that I should have done years ago. It's called Paleo Quarter and can be found at paleoquarter.blogspot.com. It may or may not be worth following. It's mostly for me to work through some accountability issues and to be honest with myself about who I really am.

I hate these kinds of blogposts... lots of talking about your kids when people really don't want to hear all of it. But right now, my kids are on my mind. So this is one post that you'll have to forgive me for. I'll get more spiritual and "thoughtful" next time.

The month of Drew....

2011-05-07T19:59:00.000-05:00

My precious first-born leaves June 1st to begin his career in the Air Force.

I have been so excited about this time in his life. Excited for him, there is so much adventure that awaits him. Excited for me because I think we've done all that is humanly possible to prepare him to live a Christlike life outside our home and, well, I'm ready to watch how our family dynamics change when he's gone. I hope it's less "out of site, out of mind" and much more "absence makes the heart grow fonder".

I can't help but reminisce about his "firsts" and remember how curious I was about his future.

His future is now....

and I can hardly believe it's true.

And so, May is the "month of Drew". This month Drew will get anything he asks for. ANYTHING!

Why can I so emphatically say that? Because he won't ask for anything that is too hard, too extreme, too expensive, or puts anyone out... That's just the kind of guy he is.

I'm gonna miss that kid...that MAN.

I love him more than he'll ever know...

well, that's not true.
He'll know,
He'll know the moment he holds his first born in his arms.
Then the knowledge will rush over him in such a way that he won't be able to contain it.

And he will call me, as he always does, just to say... "Mommy, I love you." And yes, he still calls me Mommy .

Only no one really knows that so let's just keep it between us, OK?

I'd stand in front of a train...

2011-04-22T11:22:00.001-05:00

That's what a good friend told me when we were talking 22 years ago. She had a toddler and was pregnant with her second. She said to me "Karen, I'd stand in front of a train for her". I couldn't relate, really. I had been trying to get pregnant to no avail, and needed someone to talk to. But, I didn't have that kind of love for anyone, not yet. I didn't even feel like that about MJF - after all, if anyone was standing in front of a train it was gonna be HIM for me... he's the man.

Sam is almost 18
He graduates May 2011

Drew is almost 21
He leaves for the Air Force
June 1, 2011

Today, well, I SO know what she meant. I've been given 5 opportunities to learn about what kind of love that is - between parent and child. (Rebekah Joy is living joyfully with her heavenly Father)

Josh is 13
He's the perfect mix
of Drew and Sam

This is Kate, she's 9
she gets a big picture because
she's my baby and it's my blog

I would stand in front of a train for each and every one of these delightful creatures. And yet, they NEVER think about that. They probably realize, in the depths of their being, that I'd do anything for them; really, anything. But when they tell me they love me it's

because...........

Because I have done something that makes them feel...

happy

blessed

special

better

or because they just got what they wanted.

It's NEVER because I will stand in front of a train for them.

But it's ok, I'm the mom, it's my job to enable them to feel totally secure in my love even if they don't really KNOW why they are totally secure in my love.

But on those days when we are joking or cuddling or just being affectionate and I hear this "I love you more" from one of them, I stop, hold their sweet face in my hands and say "No you don't, only when you hold your precious 1st born in your arms will you REALLY know how much I love you and how little in comparison you love me."

To be honest, they look at me with that little puppy-faced cocked head as if they haven't the slightest idea what I am saying or why I'd say such a thing. But they smile and assure me that I have no idea what I am talking about and insist they love me more.

Christ crucified.... for ME

I love you... more?

Not even close. Standing in front of a train for me would have been more palatable. It would have been EASY. NO, not only do I not know how to love Him MORE, I can't even begin to love Him equally.

...My God, my God,
why have you forsaken me?

THIS IS WHY I LOVE HIM...

yet that is not what I tell Him. I tell him I love Him because He makes me feel:

happy

accepted

special

rescued

safe

But it's only this week that I REMEMBER

that's gotta change.

Remember who was willing to stand in front of a train for you but instead was crucified - slaughtered - for you. And yet, that wasn't what He most dreaded - it was the wrath and separation from God that He most wanted to avoid and yet He said "Not my will, but yours, be done."

May your Easter be a happy one knowing He gave everything for you and yet the grave didn't hold him.

HE IS RISEN, HE IS NOT HERE, JUST AS HE SAID!

REJOICE.....

That darn video...

2011-04-18T12:00:00.000-05:00

So, last night was our fabulous Easter Music special at church. I love what we do for Easter and Christmas because it's more of an extended Praise and Worship time with a bit more glitz than it is a performance we are just siting and watching. But...

They insist upon playing, every year, THAT VIDEO....

It's always a little bit different but it's always enough to make me fall apart weeping.

As it should.

We don't remember this enough, we should, but I know why, it's an horrendous thing to watch.

For any mother of sons, to see Mary's face as she watches what is done to her son. It's almost more than I can bear....

But then, at that very moment, as I thought about Who did this and who didn't. Who deserved this and Who didn't. Who HE did this for and then... It dawned on me, there is another video....

PLEASE don't misunderstand. I will never hold the sacrifice of a human man equal to the sacrifice of the God-man, my Lord and Savior, but in a way, it was almost uncanny for me as I sat behind.... well, mostly stood behind... my oldest son praising the name of our Lord, hands held high rejoicing in the knowledge that Christ died for him.

Drew may die for someone too. Drew leaves on June 1st for basic training with the Air Force and to learn what it takes to defend his country. More than that, how to defend the freedom and liberty God so graciously bestowed upon us and to fight to the death, if necessary, to enable others around the world to enjoy it too.

He may die for people who don't even know him. That they would rejoice as they cast a vote for THEIR candidate, not the one that is forced upon them and who would force them to live a lifestyle that is the antithesis of why God created them.

He may die for former class mates and neighbors - those who loved him AND those who thought he wasn't cool enough to hang with them... it doesn't matter... because everyone deserves to be free and to retain the freedoms that they enjoy.

Our freedom in Christ is so much superior to our freedom in this country. And yet, I couldn't help but see right in front of me, literally, the closest thing to following in Christ's footsteps that I've seen in a long time.

^43-47"You're familiar with the old written law, 'Love your friend,' and its unwritten companion, 'Hate your enemy.' I'm challenging that. I'm telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the energies of prayer, for then you are working out of your true selves, your God-created selves. This is what God does. He gives his best—the sun to warm and the rain to nourish—to everyone, regardless: the good and bad, the nice and nasty. If all you do is love the lovable, do you expect a bonus? Anybody can do that. If you simply say hello to those who greet you, do you expect a medal? Any run-of-the-mill sinner does that.

Matthew relates this truth clearly: friend or foe, lover or hater, regardless of their relationship to us, we are to love them, share Christ's love with them. Do what is best for them. Not consider ourselves when we are with them.

Christ did only what His Father wanted Him to do. He gave it little thought, He just did it. Drew will be trained to do what he needs to do regardless of his circumstances. There won't be time to think about the personal implications of what he's trained to do - he will be trained to give his life if necessary for the greater good.

And I? What do I give? What do you give?

That is a question each of us have to answer in relation to the "basic training" that we've received from Our Father. It's a worthy question to ponder this week. Ponder it, see what He says to you.

The Ultimate Promise Keeper...

2011-03-30T09:25:00.000-05:00

Joshua 19:32 - 21:45

So, for the second year in a row, our church family is reading through the Chronological Bible. I think it is wise, for many reasons, that we didn't just move on to something else but that our pastor knew full well that a large number of us didn't keep up. To be honest, I didn't. I was thrilled when I realized I had a second chance to join my church family in unified reading of His Word.

pondering... pondering...

But it's passages like the ones we read today that make people shut the book before they finish and not open it up again. Of course, I can't blame God for that. I can't blame God for anything negative, really, not like we use the word blame. It's important for me to remember that the Old Testament was passed down in story form and so much of the writing was done not as we are taught to write but copied from the way it was told. they were under strict orders to include specific details. It's redundant, face it, especially when reading the the Bible in chronological order.

When the passage is really tedious you tend to get several really tedious passages all at the same time. And when the passage insists upon listing EVERY tribe and how EVERY tribe got the SAME thing over and over and over, one tends to reflect upon how the scribes could have condensed what they said and gotten the same information across to the reader. Until I read this:

43 Thus the Lord gave to Israel all the land that he swore to give to their fathers. And they took possession of it, and they settled there. 44 And the Lord gave them rest on every side just as he had sworn to their fathers. Not one of all their enemies had withstood them, for the Lord had given all their enemies into their hands. 45 Not one word of all the good promises that the Lord had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass. (Joshua 21:43-45)

I was so glad to read this. It sort of shocked me back into reality. It was a reminder that the listing of what God had given to each tribe was a receipt from a promise made to them long ago.

Can you just see an Israelite Papa sitting with his children listing tribe after tribe after tribe and repeating over and over each specific piece of land that was given to them? It was a reminder, as we so often fail to do, of God's specific promises and that He will make good on each and every promise that He makes. He is not one to just throw out words to pacify His followers and then half-heartedly try to appease them with something less than what He promised them. NO, he makes specific promises, often hard to believe promises, and delivers on exactly what He said.

I am thankful for new eyes... new insights. I am more than thankful for the Holy Spirit speaking to me when I wrestle with knowing that He wants me to know His Word but I can't seem to figure out why some things should matter so much to me, now, today, in 2011 America.

This whole experience reminds me of myself when I try to explain to Kate (9 on 4/1) an answer to her question that goes spiritually far beyond what she is wanting to know. As she tries to interrupt and move me on to another subject I get frustrated because I KNOW there is so much more to say, so many more specific details that if she knew them would make her say "Wow, what a mighty God we serve." and yet, she's not there, not now. The details don't bring her any insights just yet. They just make her roll her eyes. But they will, eventually, amaze her, when she is mature enough to "get it".

I wish it didn't take 48 years for me to be mature enough to "get this". But I suppose it's better late than never. I will take much more joy and delight in the details that before used to bore me. Just the image of that daddy... and the enthusiasm that he must have had imparting the wisdom and knowledge to his children about what a great God they serve.

Thank you Lord for being the Ultimate Promise Keeper.

I am such a loser...

2011-03-26T12:49:00.000-05:00

My friend Karen Haughton will HATE that I titled my blogpost what I did. She is one of the most encouraging people I know and I don't know many. But really, at some point we have to come to the realization that there is something that we are struggling with, we know it, we hate it, we want it eradicated, but we are not willing to do what needs to be done to handle it.

These win the prize if only for the name
of the collection.

I blame the Holy Spirit. I do. I can't lie. (well, I could but what good would it do - God already knows so what's the use of being someone I'm not to you?) I keep going to the "fruit of the spirit" verse in Galatians and say "Lord, I know I am supposed to have self control, but where is it? In some areas, I have it. For instance, I don't have an insatiable desire to go to my next door neighbor's house and steal their granite counter top even though I want it. A LOT. I don't peruse Sephora in order to find the absolutely bestest nail color ever, only to skip the check out counter and toss my discovery in my purse.

I don't think I've stolen anything in my life - maybe a flower from someone's garden when I was 5. After all, my mom deserved that flower and I had no idea what kind of work went into planting it. Of course, being the excellent mom she was and still is, I had to go and apologize.

But honestly, what are the three things I hate most? I am fat, (no, really I am - when you have to lose 40 lbs., you are fat), I hate how constantly cluttered my house is, and I hate that I still love sleep more than I love God - in short my quiet times are not nearly as consistent as my nap times... (you can't be a tabernacle mover with a life like this.)

I can't really blame all the clutter on Kate
but I sure can blame most of it on her.

The funny thing is - all of these can be remedied and it wouldn't be hard it would just be time consuming, demand that I be perseverent, and be sacrificial. Apparently I am not good at any of them because I haven't succeeded in conquering any of them the last 3 years I've had these issues. Actually, I think these issues have been mine from the beginning of time, only now do I realize how very ever-present they are.

So, if I hate them so much, why are they still such a thorn in my side?

Of course, there is a gasp quotient here. After all, how could I compare what horrible afflictions Paul endured with my own silly little issues. But I would say to you - have you considered that the "thorn" and "Messenger from Satan" that Paul refers to in 2 Cor 12:7-10, is not physical at all? I would suggest to you that it's actually unbelievers who constantly berated him at every turn. Look at this, you may be shocked to discover that possibly we've been wrong for years about the struggle that Paul was having. So possibly it was a human component that he was begging God to relieve him from and God, as He often does, insisted that His grace was sufficient. And, it is. But again... How do we attain that sufficient grace to sustain us in the midst of what bugs us the most?

Whatever his problem, Paul was being distracted. For him, lesser things pulled at him, made life difficult. For me though, they aren't lesser things in my eyes that pull me away. Things like an extra hour of sleep, a good TV show that I've been waiting all week for, a child that wants me or needs me, a chair that my feet desperately want me to sit in. All those things, although many not great in the eyes of God, are just fine in my eyes. How do you say no to a decadent dessert a friend has just pulled out of the oven. Or that bowl of snacks just sitting there while you are conversing with a friend? And then there's that 1/2 gallon of ice cream that sits patiently in the freezer while the whole house sleeps except you - you are wide awake watching a late night repeat of CSI NY. So a spoon and the 1/2 gallon and, well... isn't that what heaven is like?( That's in the same book as the one that has shopping as a spiritual gift.)

All that to say, why is it that in some things I can clearly see the Holy Spirit working. Sometimes it's "blow your socks off" amazing and other times it's simple and pure and to anyone else it's meaningless and that makes it even more "blow your socks off" amazing.

But why, in the areas that most bug me, can't I utilize the Holy Spirit's power. Every pastor I've even sat under insists we are to be able to call on the Holy Spirit's power because He lives in us. But I can't seem to sense His presence when I feel like I need him with my biggest struggles . And then, something dawned on me...

a big bunch of bananas

A friend was telling me about this book she read that told a story of a young girl held prisoner as a spy during WWII. Read just part of her story here. At one point, she saw through a hole in her cell someone receive a banana and asked God for just one. She awoke the next morning to find 92 bananas sitting in the corner of her room. I was amazed at that story and it reminded me of how small we think our God is sometimes. But suddenly I thought of her, of her condition, of her sorrow and struggle. Then I turned and looked at the front of my house, filled with 4 healthy children and a husband with a job - a good job. A bed to sleep in every day and a pillow to lay my head on. A shower AND bathtub to wash in and running water that was CLEAN. And I said to her - maybe, as much as we COULD pray for 92 bananas, we don't DESERVE 92 bananas.

So it makes me wonder. Although I COULD scream and cry and beg for the Holy Spirit to show up and totally remake me into a type A personality so that I'd organize my life to lose weight, keep up with the clutter, and have my regular quiet time. Maybe I don't DESERVE to have Him come and do that.

And I collapsed in tears realizing what I had done...

2011-03-04T07:57:00.000-06:00

Numbers 14: 13-23

And this is love,

Not that we loved God,

but that He loved us

and sent His son to be the

PROPITIATION

for our sins.

1 john 4:10

May your weekend be filled with the Joy of knowing that even though our sin should have kept us from the abundance;

His sacrifice on our behalf brought us to the

Promised Land.

I want to be a Tabernacle Mover!

2011-03-02T08:14:00.000-06:00

This morning I did the right thing. Or at least I thought I did. I was sooo proud of myself. I had to fight a bit to do it, after all, I am in a battle here - a raging battle. It's the battle between dark and light. No! not that good vs. evil thing... literally dark vs. light. See... I love the night but I am no a big fan of the morning. How could I be? If I don't go to bed before Midnight, how on earth am I gonna wake up at 6 am cheery and ready to go?

However.....

.... I do love my tea. Yes indeedie I do!
I really love HOT tea most and I especially like sipping my hot tea in the quiet and calm of a lovely candle-lit room.

some of many

One of many

Well, in this house when in the world am I gonna get a quiet, candle-lit room in which to sip my hot tea? ONLY at about 5:30 or 6:00 A.M. Yep, that's what I said - IN THE MORNING!

Elliot Ness Farhart

So, I did what I knew was the right thing to do this morning and that was to get up with the pup at 5:45 (when he decided to awaken) and just stay up. I lit some candles and made myself a cup of very hot tea (the only real way to drink it... it takes practice) and settled in at the table to inspect the new computer program our church added to it's website. I was gonna investigate the Examen Me program, listen/read (yes, the program actually reads the passages to you) our scripture for today and begin my on-line journal.

I have to admit, I was very proud of myself. I won the battle over the sleepy, droopy eyes and excitedly settled in to my chair as I listened/read along to Numbers 8-10. We are reading, as a church, the Chronological Bible and each week our pastor is preaching a message from a previous reading. I love that because as we trudge through some difficult parts of the Old Testament we know we are in good company and he shows us weekly how Jesus is in the Old Testament too. That's not new to me but I am sure it is to some. When you see Jesus there, Leviticus and Numbers aren't quite so difficult.

But no sooner did I emit a gentle "ahhhh" as I began to listen I heard and saw with my own eyes this:

15 On the day that the tabernacle was set up, the cloud covered the tabernacle, the tent of the testimony. And at evening it was over the tabernacle like the appearance of fire until morning. 16 So it was always: the cloud covered it by day and the appearance of fire by night. 17 And whenever the cloud lifted from over the tent, after that the people of Israel set out, and in the place where the cloud settled down, there the people of Israel camped.18 At the command of the Lord the people of Israel set out, and at the command of the Lord they camped. As long as the cloud rested over the tabernacle, they remained in camp. 19 Even when the cloud continued over the tabernacle many days, the people of Israel kept the charge of the Lord and did not set out. 20 Sometimes the cloud was a few days over the tabernacle, and according to the command of the Lord they remained in camp; then according to the command of the Lord they set out.21 And sometimes the cloud remained from evening until morning. And when the cloud lifted in the morning, they set out, or if it continued for a day and a night, when the cloud lifted they set out.22 Whether it was two days, or a month, or a longer time, that the cloud continued over the tabernacle, abiding there, the people of Israel remained in camp and did not set out, but when it lifted they set out.23 At the command of the Lord they camped and at the command of the Lord they set out. They kept the charge of the Lord, at the command of the Lord by Moses.

I was aware of this....

I had read this before.....

But I never really KNEW it. I never really THOUGHT about it in practicality.

THIS is the tabernacle and the encampment
with the pillar of fire at night

REALLY?

Look at how huge this thing was? Look at all the tents and what I am sure we don't see... livestock and other things that we don't realize are part of this encampment.

I had to wonder... how many people woke up on any given morning to see the "cloud by day" ever so slowing drifting away, only to whisper "Man.... we have to take that thing down again? We just put it up! I am so sick and tired of moving over and over and over again! For What? Is there really anything so wonderful ahead of us that it's worth all this work?"

And as I found myself immersed in that image I almost screamed "YES! YES THERE IS! I promise you if you persevere you will see what amazing land God has for you. ALL His promises are true and YOU are so loved by Him and in spite of what you see and hear and feel He has amazing things planned for you!"

And then, I found myself unable to breathe... I wondered those words because, knowing who I am... the lazy, selfish, wicked woman that I am... those words would have been mine. Why? because unlike today, back then they didn't have the rest of the story.

I am not a Tabernacle Mover... not yet. I want to be, I am determined to be.

This is how I would prefer to spend the afternoon
This is not the image of a
Tabernacle Mover

I realized how little I like to work. Oh, I will, when I absolutely HAVE to. When it will reflect badly on me to not work, regardless of what the work entails, I will jump in and do it cheerfully (well on the outside). I am as happy scrubbing toilets as I am anything else... as long as my doing it will earn me kudos.

But, here, in the confines of my home, not so much. What is the difference between the Tabernacle that God had the Israelites build and my own home? Granted, we usually compare it to our church building and I totally get that but to be correct, isn't our home just as much a place where God meets us? Honestly, isn't everywhere we are, our Tabernacle? Doesn't God, in this New Testament age, meet us everywhere? And aren't we to reflect that constantly?

So.... being a Tabernacle mover is as much hitting the streets of Jackson with We Will Go Ministries even if it's taking me out of my comfort zone, to picking up my house when I'd rather just shove the clutter around, because clutter makes having a calm and organized school day virtually impossible. Maybe it means that I need to give up my desire to watch ANOTHER Law and Order (which I hate to admit isn't all that redeeming - although give me a blog post on that and I could find a way to view it in a redemptive way) and grab my precious gift from God, snuggle up on the couch and read to her. Even more, give in to my new teenager's desire for me to read aloud his latest assigned text instead of him reading it himself (he's a beast of a reader) if only because it speaks love to him in a way that it doesn't to me. Maybe it means recognizing each morning that I, in and of myself, am a lazy, selfish slug and without audibly asking God via the Holy Spirit to take me and make me a Tabernacle Mover I will crawl back in bed and miss time alone with Him basking in His Word, happily sipping my hot tea, enjoying the aroma of the candle lit that morning.

These are the hands of a
Tabernacle Mover

Renew my spirit Lord, only you can recreate what I have ruined. The piece of clay that you so beautifully molded has been altered by years of careless handling. Throw me back on the wheel and do whatever you need to do in order that I may delight in the work you have for me. Whether it be moving a Tabernacle when I'd rather be relaxing in front of the TV or reading to my precious children when I'd rather be reading for myself.

Don't let me lose sight of YOUR BEST for me and my family and my life as you have created it. Yes Lord, I want to be willing to be a Tabernacle Mover!

Prayer in the PET scan....

2011-03-01T16:38:00.002-06:00

So, today I realized that there's even a weirder place to pray than the tanning bed... the machine you slide into for a PET scan. Now, I realize that there are probably many people who pray in those machines because they are face to face with illnesses that they are scared of. Some pray for healing, some pray for strength to confront whatever they will learn after their scan, some pray that when they die their kids won't fight over their stuff. Hopefully, some pray that Jesus will take their old wicked heart and make it new. If that machine would lead someone to their knees (figuratively) at the feet of Jesus then that experience would be worth it. But I doubt that most do "bow the knee" in the place where it makes even the toughest seem weak-kneed.

This is what they put my Gman in today.

How do I know this? Because my Gman just had a PET scan today. To give you the full picture let me start at the beginning.

I didn't accompany him. He and I are not very "needy" people - he's gone into and out of surgery before without me there and I could easily do the same if it wasn't his intense need to protect me that draws a line in the sand for him. He had an abnormal stress test which led him to have this procedure done.

We take Paul's command seriously in that we are

"... not anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. (Phil 4:6)

Neither of us felt there was anything to be concerned about so I went about my business homeschooling the kids and he left for his PET scan appointment.

He arrived and waited to be taken back to have a portal-type needle put in his arm for them to add fluids during the test. Unfortunately the girl who did the injection didn't connect something fast enough and his blood spewed out everywhere. He joked with her not to stress, he's seen worse before and as her interest in his comment was piqued she asked him to explain what he meant. Stories, one after another, of his interesting escapades while in state and federal law enforcement ensued and by the time he was laying on the scan table, the nurse had shared them with the tech as well. By the time he was strapped in, he was definitely BMOC in the eyes of the medical staff.

They had previously asked him if he was claustrophobic before they even made the appointment and did so again today. Both times, he told them he wasn't. They asked him to lift his arms and lay them in little channels that kept them still over his head. I suppose that stretched his upper body to enable the scan to be viewed well. Then they slowly moved the bed into the machine. He closed his eyes to protect them from the laser that was at the front of the machine and was promptly told he could open them again. What happened next shocked and embarrassed this man that carries a gun for a living. The man that breaks people's doors in to arrest them and dons bullet proof vests like surgeons wear scrubs.

He began to absolutely FREAK out inside!

He politely asked if they could move him out again and wondered if there wasn't another way this scan could be accomplished. He admitted, mortified, that he "just didn't like being in there". But, because I hadn't gone with him he couldn't be given a drug to calm him and that was the only machine in the state of MS that could do the scan that he needed. So, the big tough guy that was moved into the scanner came out minutes later the not so tough guy that realized he was pretty claustrophobic.

There was nothing he could do, and so, he took a deep breath and said "Come on then, let's do this". Thirty minutes seemed like hours as he closed his eyes and prayed diligently for God to calm his spirit. While laying there he realized that it was more than the claustrophobia that bothered him, it was the vulnerable position he was laying in. Arms locked above his head, straps around his body, inside a machine that was so close to his face that he barely could move. Gmen just don't get put in those positions.... E.V.E.R. .... or they are dead. Then, to make it worse, they injected medicine in his port to make his heart race. He went from feeling vulnerable, to anxious, to light headed and dizzy... Those 30 minutes seemed like 5 hours. For the first time in his memory he was totally submissive - totally and completely submissive - anyone at anytime could have come up to him and done anything to him and he had no power over it. He finally knew what it was like to submit himself to God.

⁵ Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
⁶ in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight

(Prvbs 3:5-6)

This is my Gman.

Another real life lesson was the realization that although God got him through that experience it wasn't in any way easy, smooth, quick, or tied with a nice neat bow. It was an agonizing experience. Every second of every minute that he was in that scanner was breathtaking and not in a good way. How often do we recognize that? We so often think that just praying through something will give us ease in it's midst. He never promises that. Sometimes we have to trudge through something that He's put in front of us like we are struggling to walk a mile in knee-deep mud. Does He get us through it? Sure. Was it a miraculously easy thing to get through? Not one bit.

He is feeling much better now that the scan is over. It's not been read yet so we really don't know what the specifics of his issues are or if he will ever have to undergo that procedure again. It's precious of God to love us so much that He will put us into positions on occasion (or regularly in my case) that make us realize who WE are and Who HE is and that there is no comparison.

None of us like to feel or be vulnerable, especially in the extreme way the Gman was today. But if our Creator God wants that vulnerability from us it is only because He knows that only in that position will we be able to be fully free.

What I've learned fromThe Pioneer Woman, Teil drei

2011-02-18T23:31:00.000-06:00

This is The Pioneer Woman,
but alas,
I am NOT the Pioneer Woman.

I picked up the cookbook again. I am trying to decide what to make first. Fully expecting that I will fail to get the kind of delightful response from my family that I am sure she gets from hers, I have to choose carefully.

While looking through the many pages of delicious offerings I came across one that had a picture of a young, handsome man next to a horse with a cowboy hat on. The title of the page was:

My Pesky Brother-in Law, Tim

I don't have a brother-in-law named Tim. Mine is named Scott, he is famous (see here) He doesn't wear a cowboy hat or hang out with horses. He wears scrubs and hangs out with women, many of them, all day long. He's an OBGYN. He's not even close to being pesky because he lives too far away. I would like him to be pesky, I would like him to be the peskiest brother-in-law ever because he lived right around the corner. Some would say that I only wanted Scott to live around the corner and be pesky because he'd bring his wife Sandy with him whom I absolutely A.D.O.R.E.

This is Dr. Scott Farhart
He is famous.

Ok, some might be right but not totally. I wish he lived around the corner and was pesky because he and MJF deserve to live closer to each other. They only lived together for a short time when they were young and lived the majority of their teenage years apart. They would be good for each other.

This is Joshua Scott.
He is almost as funny as
his uncle.

Having them around here would

be good for my kids. Son #3 is named for his uncle Scott. He is just like his uncle. It's uncanny. The older Joshua Scott gets the more I see it. Joshua is hilarious. Scott is hilarious too. And Scott can be hilarious in only 1 sentence. My favorite emails are ones sent to me by Scott. I don't get them often and they usually come as a response to something I have said. Most often they have me laughing out loud. Joshua has me laughing out loud every day - really, every stinkin' day.

Scott's got this incredible daughter named Jordan. She is the example every mom would want to have for her daughter. I feel, in some ways, Kate is missing out not having her older cousin Jordan to watch live out the life of a Godly woman in front of her face. I am missing out not having the example of HOW to guide my daughter into living a life of a Godly woman in front of MY face.

Then there is Jared, their son, born only 6 weeks after our oldest son Drew. Jared and Drew could not lack similarities more than they do. I think the only thing they would agree on is their love for Jesus Christ. And yet something tells me they could have learned a lot from each other. Like his father Jared is hilarious. He has been gracious enough to let me be his friend on Facebook and it's all I can do to not comment on his status updates... I have been told by #2 son that there is nothing cool about that so I try to refrain. Still I wish we knew those incredible kids better.

And to have Sandy closer would be more than I can imagine so I will not get myself worked up trying to imagine it.

I am learning a lot from The Pioneer Woman, just paging through her cookbook has made me think about things that I have never spent even a minute pondering. I am so glad I pondered this though. What I have been reminded of is that we can't always have the people that make us happy nearby. But somehow, just knowing how much I wish they were nearby makes the little time I get with them all the more sweet. And even moreso, because we share Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior, we will be together, forever, in eternity.

So, will we get mansions nearby? If so, will they get sick of US? Wow, I'd not thought about US being the pesky ones....

What comes out of your grinder?????

2011-02-18T15:00:00.001-06:00

Himalayan salt in grinder

Do you have any idea what this is? THIS, my friends, is a grinder full of Himalayan salt. "Of course!" you say, " because it's posted down below the picture." What a doofus...

Anyway, I am posting this because this is how I feel today. I feel like I am being put through the grinder.

Now, the truth is that I am not sure I am REALLY being put through the grinder, I just FEEL like I am.

So what?

   Right?

   I mean, who really cares?

   Suck it up and take it like a man, right? After all, that's what I tell my kids. But here's the rub...

   What happens to my food when I grind this wonderful stuff on it?

IT TASTES BETTER, LOVELIER, YUMMIER, DELICIOUS.

   Regardless of what grinder I come out of, I am supposed to be salt. I did not come out that way today. I was not only NOT SALT, I was something altogether different, I am not sure that there is an herb that is totally gross, yucky, disgusting, hurtful. If there is, that is what came out.

   I hate that I went through the grinder and came out yucky. I am sorry. I wish I could go back in and do it again.

   Alas...

   I cannot.

What I have learned from The Pioneer Woman, Pt deux...

2011-02-14T16:32:00.000-06:00

No, I am not The Pioneer Woman. She cooks. She CAN cook. I bet everything she cooks is wonderful. I bet everything she cooks LOOKS wonderful. I bet every time her kids walk into her house after working on the ranch all day they smell what she's cooking for dinner and actually jump for joy.

I am not she...

OK, so I do cook, occasionally, much less than my family would like. I don't like it. No, that's a lie. I DO like to cook. What I don't like is the less than unanimous feeling about what I cook. No, that's a lie, too. What I don't like is the less than unanimous, bowing down and worshiping at my feet because I am such an amazing cook reaction that I get when I do cook for 3 teenage boys and an 8 year old girl. The Gman doesn't have to do those things because he never complains - E.V.E.R.

This is the Pioneer Woman,
Unfortunately, I am not
The Pioneer Woman

I should still cook more. I really should. It's hard to do things that you know you should do even when you know you won't get the reaction that you'd like. Even when you know you won't get the reaction you deserve.

Everything in life is like that. Why we let a select few dictate our direction, our joys, our desires, our endeavors; it's beyond me. There's really only ONE that should dictate those things. He's the one who created us to want after things. Not things we hold in our hands, things we strive after. Adventures, ambitions, occupations, dreams... Only HE should be the one to discourage our pursuits. He's not a discourager. For those who KNOW Him well know what pleases Him and therefore know the directions we are supposed to go.

I really don't think that He tells us right away though. I think he allows us to stew on things. I wonder if He serves a lot of Stew in Heaven because I find myself having to stew on things, chew on things, pick things apart - move around the carrots, separate the potatoes and the tomatoes - to find the really excellent piece of meat; and it's the meat that I want so much.

I found myself stewing for about two years after reading this. He let me stew. It was good for me. I tossed potatoes and carrots but hung on to the tomatoes. I never found the meat until I went here on Saturday and met Amy Lancaster. For the first time in my life I met someone who could actually see people with Jesus' eyes. I knew that through the power of the Holy Spirit it was possible but I never thought I'd see it in this part of the world. I didn't think it was something an American could actually possess. She is the most amazing woman I have ever met and I've met more than a few amazing women. If I could have coffee (well, I'd drink tea) with her once a week I'd sit and listen and never speak - never - not one moment I was with her. I'd be afraid I'd miss some amazing truth about Christ because she knows Him in a way that I wasn't sure was possible.

He spoke to me through her on Saturday. He not only revealed meat to me, He revealed a whole pile of it that was hiding under the tomatoes I'd kept in the bowl. I tossed those tomatoes because there was so much meat, I'd gotten full and couldn't eat a bite more. And although there was more meat there I didn't partake. A stomach can only hold so much. It's gotta digest and when it has, I will go back because there's a banquet waiting for me. Right in downtown Jackson. In the roughest part of the city. A banquet available any day of the week, any time of the day. Open for anyone who is willing to show up and say "I need...." And they never have to tell her what they need because she knows, that in reality, ~~they~~ we, all need the same thing... Jesus. And she's got a stew pot that never empties full of Jesus.

The Lord used Amy to speak clearly to me. He clarified some thoughts I had about ambitions, adventures, occupations, and dreams. After all, He created me. He knows what He wants me to do and He made me to do just that.

I have decided that being a foot model isn't in my future. After all. He created all of me - my feet included.

My feet

They are fat feet, not pretty, not long and lovely. He did create me to "go and do". These feet, although not lovely will take me where I need to go to please Him. So I will digest the meat He's given me and watch for the growth that comes from feeding my soul.

I bet the Pioneer Woman has pretty feet. She may live on a ranch but I bet she gets mani-pedis once a week. But it doesn't matter that I don't have pretty feet. They still do the job they were created to do. And besides, my feet will be pretty in Heaven and I will live there a whole lot longer than I will live here.

Do you think they carry OPI polish in Heaven cuz I am sure we don't wear shoes there.

What I've learned from The Pioneer Woman, Part Uno

2011-02-10T02:15:00.000-06:00

This is the Pioneer Woman,
it's unfortunately not me...

So, I have an unbelievable sister-in-law. There are so many things I could say about her but I haven't the room... Well I do but she wouldn't want me to go on and on about her. I have wanted to be her since the day I met her in July of 1983. She was a week away from marrying MJF's brother and I was about 6 weeks away from marrying MJF. They were having something like 5,000 people at their wedding (I could be exaggerating but is sure seemed that way) and we were having 100. She was (and still is) itty bitty, cute, and bubbly. Me... well, let's just say none of those words describe me. She had everything going for her, I had, well, I just didn't know. What I did know was that I wished I was her.

Twenty-seven years later and many days I still wish I was her. For many of the same reasons I wish I was her but some days, for very different reasons.

Today, because of something she did, something really unbelievably special and totally surprising to me, I have decided that, at almost 50 years old, I was going to have to come to terms with who I am and I was going to have to learn to embrace it. Yes, I said embrace it. Not just be happy with it, not just be satisfied, but I needed to learn to EMBRACE all of me, in just the place God has put me.

What did she do? She sent me the Pioneer Woman Cookbook. Now I know what she was thinking by sending it to me. It was a splurge and she knew I wanted it. She knew I didn't need it but that it would be so much fun. And that's how I felt about it today when I opened it. Little did I know that reading about Ree, The Pioneer Woman, who she was before she hit the ranch, how she has become a ranch-lover, and how she has EMBRACED her life... it was like a brick hit me between the eyes. I really think it was the story of how she met the Marlboro Man and how to this day she still calls him the Marlboro Man and adores him, that really got to me.

This is my Gman.

I don't have a Marlboro Man. What I do have is a Gman. A Gman is tons better than a Marlboro Man. I have not been enjoying my Gman the way I should. I have not been bragging about my Gman the way I should and reading her talk about her Marlboro Man really convicted me that I have been taking him for granted, a lot. Look at him... he's pretty darn awesome.

There are more things that I want to say about how reading The Pioneer Woman's cookbook impacted me. It will take several blog posts to do it. That's a good thing though because I promised to do a better job feeding my blog. Pioneer Woman reminded me of that as well.

This is me. Obviously I am not the Pioneer Woman.
It is not the best picture of me.
It's actually sort of silly..
I decided to EMBRACE silly.

Put it in your pipe and smoke it.

2011-02-07T23:52:00.000-06:00

So, my blog is like my baby. Abandon it and it starves to death. I apparently am starving my blog. Forgive me for starving my blog. I will do a better job, really I will.

Pap-pap's pipes... that's me with him when I was 2.

I have a confession. I am letting my two oldest sons smoke... Yepper, actually, they have gotten into smoking cigars. It started as a desire my oldest had for his 20th birthday, he wanted to smoke a cigar with his dad and a few friends, out back, around the fire pit. It turned out that my 16 yr old, (at the time) just had to participate too. But I'd have none of it. So this year, when he became 17, I let up. And for a couple of weeks he smoked a cigar once a week. I wanted to say something; tell him that he should stop. The more I thought about it though, the more I figured it would end on it's own. And sure enough, it has. Whims, fads, all those things find themselves whisked away eventually.

But one evening, #2 son came to me and asked if they could smoke Pap-pap's pipes. I think he thought I'd gasp and cry "No, don't touch those icons that I hold so dear!" Instead, I smiled and said "Only if there's Captain Black smoked in them." He was visibly shocked. "What are you so shocked about?" I asked "Pap-pap would be in shear delight knowing you all were smoking his pipes." And if I close my eyes and imagine I can almost see his tobacco-tainted smile at the thought of it all.

They honored my request and that week bought a pouch of Captain Black. They all sat out back and packed their pipes - each pipe smoked lovingly by my grandfather years before my oldest was even born. I could see the pride they took as they packed those feeling like they had arrived. THEY were smoking THE pipes. And one by one the Zippo lighters flicked on and reddened the tobacco as they each drew deep to light their smokes.

AND ONE BY ONE THEY COLLAPSED IN FITS OF SYMPHONIC COUGHING.

And every now and again, as I walk by the display I lovingly created in honor of my grandfather, William Edward Harris, I can smell the Captain Black and it's all I can do to hold back my laughter.

Just let me have one more week...

2010-12-26T23:07:00.000-06:00

I so want to enjoy one more week...
   Usually I take down my decorations by now...
   Usually I am ready to move beyond the holiday...
   Usually I am tired of looking at, feeling, smelling
     Christmas

This year I just want One More Week to bask in the glow of my Savior's birth...

Then I will pick myself back up and shake out the cobwebs and push forward into 2011.

But, until then, one more week will taste as
sweet as honey.

Have yourself a Merry little Christmas...

2010-12-24T08:26:00.000-06:00

Our biggest challenge this season is to put the focus on Christ, where it should be. And even more difficult is to put the focus on Easter within this Christmas celebration. After all, He was born to die and in dying gave us life.

I think this year I am going to ask my kids to share what they would do if they were kings and queens. I am sure that none of them would say

"become poor, live a life of great hardship, be restrained from being all that they have the power and authority to be, and then die in the most offensive manner for all to see for people who, even though they say they love you push you aside for the majority of their lives only to call on you when things don't go their way"...

Perspective; something we clearly lack most of our days.

I pray that you and I change our perspective in 2011 and put our King on his throne.

Merry Christmas to you and a prayer for an exciting and Christ honoring New Year.

Karen

Who Inspires You?

2010-12-18T00:54:00.000-06:00

So, Facebook changed my wall page again. I am pretty frustrated. Just when I was getting used to the old new one now there is a new new one. One addition to the Info page was "Who inspires you?" Mysteriously, they don't allow you to just add any names you want, you have to add names it's database recognizes. So, unless it's someone like Tom Cruise or the Pope or John F. Kennedy, then you can't add a name.

Well, that just doesn't work for me. I'm not inspired by the people that we often see in front of our faces on the Theater Screen, TV screen, or in Magazines and Newspapers. I admire the people that live lives just like mine and yet manage to do or be or accomplish things that I ~~think~~ know are amazing because I live their lives and I fail miserably at what they are successful at. And all those successes are honorable, lovely, pure, and good.

(For example... my friend Karen: http://waistingaway.wordpress.com/author/pinkcamojeep/ )

When we lived in Charleston, SC we went, one year, to the Air Show at the Air Base there. I watched as the Blue Angels flew those planes at speeds that I can't comprehend and although I know they were yards apart, to me they seemed inches from colliding. At that time Michael Jordan was "all that" and I remember thinking to myself, "Why do people make such a fuss about Michael Jordan when these are the guys who should be paid the big bucks and held in high esteem." After all, those guys not only entertain us but they would drop everything to protect our country; with their lives if necessary.

I am inspired by a little girl who, days before her 4th birthday, laid stone still in the dentist's chair while the profusely perspiring dentist had to pull one of her front teeth because it had been damaged by a fall. All the while the hygienists and I, her mom, held back tears as we watched her tears stream down the outside of her eyes and down the sides of her face. Then, only 6 months later, this same precious little gift from God held back perfectly acceptable screams of pain and terror as she was sedated in order to remove her left pinky toe because she got too close to the weight machines her brothers and father were working out on. To this day (5 years later) I am amazed at the bravery such a little girl had within her and I still see this bravery solidly a part of her. And I wonder, in the depths of my being, why God felt the need to create such a strength in her. And I prepare myself for what I can only imagine will be the molding and shaping of my only living daughter.

I am inspired by two sisters-in-law. They have nothing in common except... CANCER. One ovarian and one breast. One had to undergo a year's worth of Chemo, twice in 5 years, and in spite of losing her hair and being sick as a dog, she didn't let the lack of complete healing deter her. She picked herself up and chose to find another avenue. Today she is a Master Chef with one of the premier Raw Food and Natural Healing organizations in the world. She is starting her own business and teaching others how to prepare their foods more naturally and what to look for in foods that might be dangerous to our bodies.

The other was blessed to have her cancer discovered before it was necessary for advanced treatments. She still had to have radical surgery and her recovery wasn't easy. Just a few years have gone by and she has recently finished her first half-marathon... at 50.

I am inspired by a friend who struggled for a couple years not knowing how to convince her husband that she was trustworthy. Month after month he pulled away and no matter how much she tried to love him he saw just the opposite. And day after day she prayed. On her knees, on her face, crying to God for answers, for guidance...not to change him but to change her. And week after week I sat amazed as she would tell me of her pursuits of holiness, of patience, of striving for the marriage she knew was there but seemed unreachable. And then, one day, out of the blue, he got it. A year later we still can't understand what happened, what led him to realize he had bliss sharing the same home with him but he did and so we say... It's just a God thing.

These are just a few of the people that inspire me. They have names like Kate and Pam and Na and Sandy and Karen and if I gave you their last names most of them would be unrecognizable to you. Facebook wouldn't let me enter them because their names are meaningless to those who programmed it's database. But, honestly, that's OK because they wouldn't be appreciated for who they are.

But to me: They make me hang on, dive in, and look up.

... and Toto, too.

2010-12-18T00:03:00.001-06:00

if I ever

go looking

for my heart's desire again,

I won't look any further than my own backyard.

Because if it isn't there,

I never really lost it to begin with. (Dorothy, Wizard of Oz)

Please don't hold it against me.

2010-11-04T00:42:00.000-05:00

I have to be honest, I am a Calvinist. And before you stop gasping, there's more... I'm a 5 pointer. I'm not writing this to invite anyone to explain why I shouldn't be or how mistaken I am or what scripture I'm ignoring to bring me to this conclusion. It took 15 years to come to this realization and there's nothing that is going to change my perspective.

I am writing this because I realized something about myself while reading in my quiet time this morning...that there is no way I would have come to Christ on my own. I would have thought He was a bit over the top for me. While reading Luke 10:21-24, I realized I'd have been one of those who would have shied away from him, assuming there was at least one or two who hung with him for awhile until he got to be "too spiritual" for them. Actually the more I read, the more I learn, the more I hear from others the more I realize that my coming to Christ would have been impossible for me, in my sinful state, to do. I am way too all about myself to succumb to and submit to all that Christ demands of me as his disciple.

It was almost scary reading that scripture, I'd not seen before what I saw this morning. I imagined Jesus having a serious but subdued conversation with his special ones, telling them what authority they had when they needed it and then, suddenly he breaks loose in this over the top praise and worship time toward heaven. Nope, there is no way I would have hung around for that. It would have embarrassed me. I would have quietly escaped unnoticed - hopefully. It was at the moment I read that that the heat was put to the wax and sealed for me what I have known for years. I, Karen Farhart, in my sinful, selfish, me-focused state, could never have chosen on my own to submit to the Lordship of Jesus Christ. E.V.E.R.

I am glad for that shock. Going to a Southern Baptist Church these days, the "old guard" don't like people like me. Some think I am part of a big problem because many of the younger SBC Seminary grads are coming out of school Calvinists. I can't quite figure out why it's such a scary thought though. Do they really think that the average Calvinist would end missions? I mean really... Calvinism doesn't supersede Scripture and God's Word is very clear on where we go and what we do. I know some on the extreme would consider it but generally the extreme don't end up in the SBC sanctuary.

I think a Calvinist has a phenomenal understanding and thorough grasp of God's Sovereignty. If we don't believe we can accomplish anything apart from Him, especially our salvation, then it's easy to rest in His arms regardless of how questionable our circumstances.

I needed that reminder, the image of a naked, undeserving me, having nothing to offer and yet the God of the Universe reached down His invisible hand of Salvation and grabbed me with a vice grip and brought me into His Everlasting Kingdom. For that I am eternally grateful and will never be able to serve, honor, glorify Him enough.

And that leads me into another gut-wrenching topic for another day... can I, as a "blessed" American, really serve, honor, glorify Him at all? And if I can, what does that look like? That is an issue that is eating away at me like a vulture picks away at the dead prey left for him to endlessly nibble on.

So yes, I'm a Calvinist, I am out of the closet and although I am way beyond wearing it as a badge of honor, (although, to be honest, I am dying to buy one of those nifty TULIP T-shirts) I will confidently admit to it if I am "caught" in conversation. Please don't hold it against me, love me in spite of it.

...like a flower in a compost pile.

2010-10-29T07:48:00.000-05:00

This is how I have felt lately... I found this flower growing in my compost pile. Flowers aren't supposed to grow in proper compost piles. What does that tell you about mine? I have all kinds of excellent intentions but I rarely carry them out to the proper conclusion. So, even my compost pile is ineffective.

But, still, it's filled with our garden cast-offs, cut grass, and sticks and leaves that have dried out and need to be put somewhere. There's not enough decomposition going on so it's just a pile of outdoor trash. But somewhere in the pile was exactly what was needed to grow these morning glories. From the depths of a pile of junk something pretty, albeit not unique or special, grew up and out for me, and anyone else to see.

I feel like this because I know the truth about who I am. I am disappointed in who I am, I think I always will be. I do know though that because Christ lives in me there is something beautiful that is growing somewhere in the depths of my being. I would just like to see it. I would just like to, one day, feel adequate to be the mother of my kids, the wife to my husband, the child of my Lord. Maybe it's just as well. So often we get to thinking we are "all that" and screw everything God has worked so hard for (in us) up. I guess the important thing is that we realize WHO we are here for, WHOSE work we should be about, and WHERE we are headed. If we are too happy here, as aliens and strangers, we miss it and lose our Kingdom vision.

Or maybe that's what I tell myself to make myself feel better. I don't know that, right now, I have anything to say or to think or to feel that will make me change my focus or adjust so that I see things about myself any differently. I guess it's just that time in life, some call it a mid-life crisis, some others may call it introspection, I just call it a whole lot of disappointing confusion about who I am and what I'm doing. No, it's not one of those "I have to find myself" events. Geezzz, shoot me if I ever speak those words. But I do find myself struggling as I view my life the way God must see it and wonder if He's even remotely happy with me.

Maybe that's the O.N.E. thing He is happy about... that I am not complacent, not satisfied in myself, not so sure of myself that I think I have it all together. Maybe by going through this time of questioning He knows I will come out on the other side more like the mom, wife, woman of God, He wants me to be. Maybe the one thing I have to come away with is not just realizing that I feel like that flower in the compost pile but here on earth I AM that flower in the compost pile of sin and decay. Maybe what I need to be reflecting on is how to practically live amidst the compost and be seen and enjoyed in order to bring HIM glory.

I am not sure how to do that. I am not sure... well... about any of that in today's culture and economic climate.

But I do know this. He will never leave me or forsake me (Josh 1:5). I am His masterpiece and He prepared things for me to do, I must not be worthless to Him (Eph 2:10). I must be able, with His Holy Spirit to accomplish those works. And if He chose me before the foundation of the world (Eph 1:4), He certainly knew the kinds of ups and downs I'd have. He surely was prepared for my inability to do what He really wants me to do. He surely realized that I'd get caught up in this American Dream and complacency of this American Christianity. Yes, I believe He is not at all caught by surprise.

I am though...

The joy of cockroaches...

2010-10-21T07:40:00.002-05:00

The most important person in my life isn't here... she's far away. And I haven't seen her in years. Maybe 18 years. I would give a lot to be even an hour away. I think I'd get insight and advice and encouragement from her that I'd want to drink in daily like the MacAlister's unsweetened tea that used to have me in it's grip.

She's important to me because, through her blog... the most beautiful blog I've ever seen (http://waistingaway.wordpress.com/2010/10/21/roaches-make-me-happy/#comment-876) I have lived her life, or as much of it as she'd let me. And I've realized a lot of things about me - good and bad. I admire her in more ways than I've admired almost anyone in all my 47 years of life.

Ironically, her name is Karen, too. But right now, at this very moment in time, except for knowing completely the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ, there is little else we share. A year or two ago there were a lot of things that we could discuss that we'd laugh about and realize the commonality in all of it. But her world has since been turned upside down and well only I am upside down. Interestingly, I get the impression that in spite of her world she is anything but upside down; she's standing firmly on her own two feet.

I know, if she were to comment on any of this she would remind me that it's not her that is standing so firmly but the Holy Spirit in her which is all the more reason that she is important to me. When I read what she writes I know that everything about her is focused on Christ. I know that the perspective she takes daily is because Christ lives in her and I know that she lives an "in spite of" life because she has an eternal perspective that has left her free of the hindered life. She has walked through the narrow gate and down the narrow road and although I know that there were times she was teetering on the edge, she persevered and has since found her balance and no longer looks to the left or to the right but straight into the eyes of Jesus.

She has encouraged me in more ways than time allows me to say. One thing though, I am taking more pictures. She is a masterful photog and I marvel at her work. I can produce occasionally good pictures of my kids and the shocking "Wow, that picture turned out pretty good" photograph once or twice a year, but she... well, she's amazing. And she's artsy-craftsy, in the way I wish I was. She's made me want to have pictures of things that bring me joy on my hard drive just to have around "in case". So I spent my very early morning taking pictures of stuff that may be meaningless to you but not so much to me. Or pictures that I know I will want to place strategically in my future blog posts.

I hope she sees my adding more pictures to my blog as a compliment to her and not as "copying". Nah, she won't even consider it from a negative perspective... I think she'll be happy for me that I am storing pictures away to bring me joy later. I think she will be really happy to know that what she thinks are her simple words about her struggles with life, the joys, the pain, the adventures, the inconveniences, all give me in a very odd way, a glimmer of hope that when all is said and done I too will wake up one morning and be able to find happiness in cockroaches.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening...

2010-10-21T01:10:00.000-05:00

Whose woods are these I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

No one would argue that this Robert Frost poem is most likely one of his best. Tonight, it became the definition of my life. Until tonight, I couldn't articulate why I have felt the way I have and why I seem to fight who and what I know I am.

Tonight, I was simply watching Criminal Minds. A show that I really like but I find gets increasingly disturbing every season. At the end of each show the character most focused on throughout that episode has a short soliloquy and often ends it with a famous quote. This night the show ended with "But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep." And suddenly, in the midst of ironing one of the 2500 shirts piled on the chair beside me, I began to cry. Well, that's how it started anyway but as the tears began to flow, the complete and total understanding of what I had just heard sunk in and crying turned into weeping.

I have this poem in a children's book that is beautiful but I couldn't bear to take the time to weed through the hundreds of books lining the shelves of our dining room turned library, I ran to the computer to look it up.

And as I read I remembered all the bizarre explanations of what Frost meant by "this" and "that". What a way to ruin a great poem. No, I am convinced I know exactly what the rider on that horse was doing. He was a man of action. One that was typically in demand and on the move. Obvious, because his horse was confused by the premature end to their mission.

It wasn't an end at all though, it was a respite, it was a wish that bubbled up from the depths of his being. He had been there before; he had ridden past that place many times. But on that night, that deep, dark night, the snow reflected off the moon in just the most wonderful way that even he, a man of many responsibilities couldn't resist.

And he stopped...

He stopped and took it all in.

He stopped, took it all in and realized that he'd been missing a lot. He realized that there was more to his world than what he knew living the life that he chose to live. He realized that should he have the time to slow down, breath deeply, and really look at the beauty of the world around him, that somehow it all might be a little different.

And yet...

He couldn't succumb to the temptation. He had made promises and a man of action, mission, and honor (which he must have been because he rode away from pleasure for work) must not sit idly by in a dream world but must forge ahead to fulfill the commitments he had made. And he appeared to do so without resentment or hesitation.

And what brought me to tears? Realizing that I am that man but that I don't have the honor that he had. I have made those commitments; my own important commitments. What I do have is the resentment and a hesitation that only exacerbates the helpless feeling I am currently wrestling with. I want those commitments to go away and I want to stay basking in the beauty and quiet and unencumbered nature of... well, nature... and my own selfish desires.

I want more than my requisite 15 min of vitamin D each day, but home-school beckons.
I want to sleep later than 6am regularly, but the puppy whines.
I want to do what I want, go where I want, eat out whenever I want, but the children, the husband, and
the budget require my presence and self-restraint.

I want to sit out in the woods on a deep, dark, snowy evening, wrapped in a warm blanket with a huge cup of hot tea watching the snow glisten off the moonlight... alone... in complete quiet... for an amount of time of MY choosing ... lost in my OWN thoughts...

but I have promises to keep
and miles to go before I sleep
and miles to go before I sleep.

Psalm 68:3

2010-10-13T21:34:00.007-05:00

Look it up. It's good for you. I'll wait.....

OK, so you are asking what word in that verse do I care enough about that I am willing to write a whole blog on? Actually, it's the word that varies depending on your translation and to be honest, varies depending on any particular day, time, or present company (or lack of company). It's the word Happy. I am trying to decide if I want to remove it from my vocabulary, at least where it describes me. I have already eliminated Fun but that's because I have as much use for that word in my life as I have for my appendix. Oh, yeah, I had that removed 8 years ago. I think Happy should join Fun and my appendix in the abyss of worthlessness.

I know, you are asking yourselves, "Is she PMSing or what?"... no, I'm not but all this probably began then. I can get too introspective... or maybe not too... maybe just right. I think we all should take a good look at ourselves honestly. We like to think about ourselves positively but we aren't always being honest. And I realized something about myself a couple of weeks ago... I am not Happy. Actually, I am the furthest thing from Happy.

At first I was really bummed. I hate thinking that about myself. I have a great life, great kids, great home, great friends, great memories... I have no right to even speak those words... I'm not happy. But the truth is what it is and I have to decide what, if anything I have to do about it.

I laid in bed a couple of nights thinking about the reality of not being Happy. And then, the question popped into my head... "Does Scripture even mention the word?" Off the top of my head, except for some versions using Happy instead of blessed, I didn't think so. I really didn't spend time looking thoroughly through the Word of God but I did do a quick Crosswalk.com scan and there are a few but mostly Happy is used instead of some other words and not correctly translated. Psalm 68:3 is about the only one that really uses that word and means it.

The deal is that Happy is really a temporary feeling based on immediate circumstances that can change in an instant. I've seen my own kids go from laughing to crying in a matter of 20 minutes.

So, is it something that I should even be pondering? Let me think about other emotions that Scripture speaks about... Love... there is a lot that I have for people and a lot of people that have it for me. Joy... yes, to be honest there is rarely a moment that I wouldn't use it to describe my inmost being. Peace... that passes understanding, baby! Content... I'd be sinning if I said I wasn't. So, who really needs Happy?

I think I do...at least I feel like I do, just right now, just at this time in my life.

It may be a temporary emotion that can't be counted on to carry me through like the previously mentioned emotions can, but for some reason I can't break out of a funk that has been hovering over me like the dark, rainy cloud that hovers over Eeyore, Pooh's ever-depressed donkey friend. I do think I have been given a glimpse into what I need to do to get a handle on the way I am feeling. (frankly, I find it hard to believe I am devoting an entire post to "feelings" UGH)

I am 47 1/2, and yes, the 1/2 matters as much now as it did when I was 3. Only it makes me feel worse not better.I have aches and pains that scream "You are a pitiful old lady". I have 4 children of varying ages who are going in different directions and need me emotionally more than they ever have. I have begun this school year with my school-aged children at home so I am now their teacher. I have a husband who will be 50 in a couple of weeks and if he were to say he is not bothered by that he'd be lying. I have a home that is wonderful, beautiful, and incredibly cluttered with no light at the end of the tunnel. I have 20 lbs to lose by Christmas that will most likely go the way of all other previous attempts - my hips and thighs - they are very happy there. And to all this (and so much more) I have added a puppy. Here's the kicker... I HATE RESPONSIBILITY. I am very good at it but I hate it. And on Sunday one of my Pastor's told me that I had to give it all up to God.

There's only one problem, God gave it all to me... I don't think He's got a tithing plan for responsibility... I think He's expecting me to handle all of this, I just don't think I am handling it right. I feel sure I have been ENTRUSTED with all this responsibility not DUMPED UPON.

So, here's what I think the permanent solution to get back my temporary emotion is: change my vantage point. "A position that affords a broad overall view or perspective, as of a place or situation."

So, let's review from a different vantage point:

I am 47 1/2... most people are shocked when I tell them that, they think I am much younger.

I have aches and pains... but I know that I can change my eating habits to aid in eliminating that pain and if need be there's always medicine.

I have 4 children... who need me... I think taking out the negatives from the original sentence makes all the difference.

I am homeschooling... Praise God that I live in a country/state that allows me to do this. What a difference it will make in their lives.

I have a 50 yr old husband who is bummed... we've been married 27 years and he's still alive and kicking...

My wonderful home is a cluttered mess... I have a home, 'nuf said.

I have 20 lbs to lose... I have what I need to nourish my body and more,

I have added a puppy... truth be told, he's a wonderful animal who has added a lot of joy to our home and Kate needed him

I hate responsiblity... Obviously God thought it was just what I needed and that I'm perfectly capable of handling it.

Thanks, I needed that... I think I will put up a Post-it Note (b/c, after all, I am the Post-it Note queen) to remind myself to adjust my vantage point each morning before I confront the world. That should bring a little Happy back into this old woman's heart.

DUH....

2010-09-16T00:07:00.003-05:00

Ignorance is bliss. My mom used to say that all the time. I had no idea how right she was when I took this picture. I was 17 and a Junior in High School. What did I know? Well, I thought I knew a lot! Funny how you look back on pictures, events, experiences, adventures and you realize the truth you thought you knew was a lie.

I bet I don't go a week without saying that phrase. I wonder if she even realized what she was saying all those years ago. Truth be told, she was so young then. She was only 38 when I was 17, I am just shy of 10 years older than that and I have only just realized in the last several years what a blessing ignorance is.

Like so many other women I know I was always anxious to know the "scoop". It's not really that I couldn't wait to tell the world and be the first one to do it as much as I just hated being "out of the loop". The more I knew about stuff in the family, at church, in the neighborhood, etc. the more I found myself stewing. I couldn't let it go. I thought about what I knew day and night and it was especially bad when I couldn't unload this information on anyone. Thankfully, my husband made it clear that I wouldn't be hearing any scoop from him. Not only was it illegal and unethical to share it with me but if he told me he'd have to shoot me... (not really, well, maybe...).

What made me realize the blessing in ignorance was an event at church in which I honestly stumbled upon some information and shared it with ONE friend. Before I knew it, that one friend shared it with someone else who had an ego problem and was livid I knew something he didn't. Keep in mind, I found this out very innocently and shared it innocently... I ended up caught up in an egotistical drama that had me feeling as though I was being scolded like a school kid. I think that was the turning point for me. I decided that I liked the idea of shrugging my shoulders much more than finding myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That was over a year ago and I am a happier person because of it. I try to stay away from information that is not necessary to my life and the life of my family. I try to stay away from the people that insist upon gossiping, spreading rumors, and being the first to tell the world anything. And when I find myself there I just try to keep my mouth shut and find a happy place in my mind to fly off to.

To say it's not hard would be a lie. We all have this desire to know stuff. At least women do. I do love to have the scoop and I do love to be the one to "correct" the wrong story because I know the right one. But nothing good comes from it... nothing. I remember when we found out we were moving back here from West Virginia. I was so excited, I wanted everyone to know. That wasn't hard because I knew the 2 women to tell that would most quickly spread the word. It took 15 minutes from my email to them for me to start getting phone calls. Granted, I was thrilled people were happy about us returning to MS but if I knew I had the reputation for spreading information like that, I'd have been mortified.

If I have ever had that reputation, I hope I have proven that I'm not that person anymore. It's not that there isn't worthwhile information to disseminate. After all, if a friend's child is ill or there's been an emergency, I'd want that to be spread far and wide for intense prayer. Otherwise, though... there's all kinds of information that we can live without knowing. My brain has enough running around in it. Other people's problems and behavior can find another place to dwell.

At 47...

2010-09-11T23:26:00.009-05:00

I hate getting old. No, really, at 47... believe me, it is old. I just uploaded my wedding pictures to my Facebook page and I was reminded, as I scanned them and then auto adjusted them to get rid of the yellow tinge that had permeated them, just how young, thin, and pretty I really was. Of course I had no idea at the time just how wonderful it was to be young, thin, and pretty.

It all really hit me the other day when I realized that my bathroom mirror had been lying to me for years. I found myself staring into the decorative mirror that is in my kitchen only inches away as I cleaned it. Why I hadn't noticed before, I'm not sure but I looked... O.L.D. I couldn't take my eyes off just how bad I looked. And then I couldn't stop thinking about how sad that made me feel. I had to just face the facts and admit the truth. I was no longer the youngest one in the room as I used to be but now I am the oldest. Almost every time I find myself in conversation I am the oldest. I really think one day I am going to cry about that.

When I get up from sitting for more than 15 minutes my feet hurt and my knees scream to stop trying to straighten. After a night's sleep I barely stand up straight upon rising and if I do it's not without pain. I have age spots on my hands and cheeks and I'm afraid to admit that my ankles are getting thick. Could I really one day be the butt of jokes about "cankles"? Please Lord, let it not be so.

A recent Gall Bladder attack got my attention. For the girl who never even had heartburn I thought I was having a heart attack. It was on the way home after a two week trip to Ohio to see family when it happened and it's a pain I never want to experience again. The blessing behind it is that during that trip my sister-in-law Na introduced me to the Raw Food Lifestyle. She found that after two rounds of Chemo for Ovarian Cancer, 5 years apart, that how she took care of her body might have a lot to do with how her body took care of her. I learned a lot not knowing how much of it I would soon put into practice. God was gracious and allowed that attack to happen only after I was securely in the home of my good friend and her husband who are both medical professionals. But as I stared at the clock at 1:23 am, I promised myself that I would never eat the same way again.

It's odd what God uses to get our attention. It's also odd when we look back over days, weeks, even years to see how He's prepared us for that particular place we find ourselves in. So, at 47 I am looking at everything differently. I have learned from my body that if I want health from it I have to give it healthy things. I have learned from my sister-in-law that it's not hard to be healthy I just have to be committed. I have learned from my friend Karen H. that life is too short to dwell on the bummers but to take hold of the best of life and run with it. I have learned from the tragedy of a dear couple at church that every moment with our children must be treasured because we are not guaranteed tomorrow. I have learned that my mother was right when she said "ignorance is bliss" and "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it". And I learned from my own experiences this summer that it may be easier just to sit and be comfortable but it's not the most fun and inevitably I'd be missing something spectacular.

So, this year I am homeschooling my two youngest and delighting in the fact that my two oldest haven't flown the coop yet. I have forsaken my innumerable lunches with friends, my afternoon snoozes, my shopping trips, and my hours of doing whatever I wanted whenever I wanted to. I have decided that I have to take care of me and part of that is taking care to enjoy my family and my life. It's been hard. I'm inherently lazy and selfish. There is a lot of work involved in this and I have committed myself to my kids in ways I haven't done in years. None of this is new to me but it's shocking how my "inner brat" is fighting me.

What I have to learn, at 47 is that it's time I appreciate what I have and who I am. It's not all about being young, thin, and pretty - although I still yearn for those days I will admit - it's about so much more. It's all good. It's all hard. It's all how it's supposed to be. I will muddle through and be the better for it. I won't regret a minute of it in the end and I'll be thankful for a heart that desires obedience to God more than trying to dismiss His call.

“DECIDE, v.i. To succumb to the preponderance of one set of influences over another set.

2010-04-22T07:25:00.003-05:00

I knew it had been awhile since I posted but didn't realize the last time was the first of 2010. Wow. I hate that I'm such a procrastinator. I look for that trait in my kids and try hard to quash it. What I am realizing is that some traits are just there to stay. Born in, bred in, heck, I have no idea, they just aren't going anywhere. And me? I go to bed each night playing out how the next day is going to go and seeing the checkered flag waving at the end of the next day only to awaken so tired that attempting to fight off the impulses that would bring me down seems impossible. And almost before I begin my new day, I'm disappointed in my outlook. A month ago that would have led me back into my bed, or worse, to a half gallon of ice cream and a spoon. This month has been a different story. I am fighting it, with all I've got. I may be an inherent procrastinator and type-B personality but I know that I don't have to succumb to the negatives of those traits.

Last night, about 9, I decided to take a walk. My oldest son, Drew, almost 20, after working an 8 hour shift at Chick-fil-A on his feet chose to go with me. I felt guilty about it but he wasn't going to let me walk in the dark alone. Being that he is leaving for the Air Force in the next several months, I relish each moment with him so I didn't try to talk him out of it. Plus, as a man, he should have that reaction as a natural part of his being, I was glad it was an instant reaction on his part.

Drew and I have a special relationship. He is me with testosterone. Sometimes I feel horrible about that, he's got all that I hate about me. It's gonna be a long road to work through. But we also have conversations that could last hours and we both get tremendous joy from them. Last night it was all about his desire to know for sure that he had a place in heaven. What it really boiled down to was his understanding that he never did enough to please God. It wasn't really a works thing so much as it was a relationship thing. He knew his quiet time left a lot to be desired. He knew that throwing a prayer or two up before bed wasn't sufficient. He knew he wasn't always mindful of the presence of the Holy Spirit. Knowing all of that, was he worthy?

I had to admit it brought a smile to my face. I was delighted in my heart realizing that he had questions about his end of his relationship with Christ. I realized that those questions would only lead to increased holiness as he plowed through his daily time with God and worked at carving out more time to build the most important relationship he will ever have and the one that will sustain all others. I found myself pulling from memory a conversational technique one of our former pastors impressed me with; questions. So, I asked him questions. I asked him questions to help him clarify his faith for himself instead of relying on my words to reassure him.

In the end, the flaws of procrastination and a type-B personality reared their ugly heads. Just as I had been wrestling with those same issues in my life of daily housewife rituals, he allowed those negative traits to impact his relationship with Christ. Add to that the grace-heavy American perspective on sanctification and he had been cooking up complacency. Just as I had decided to fight what was keeping me from achieving a better and more effective day, he was going to have to choose to fight that which was keeping him from having a better and more abundant life in Christ.

For Drew (and maybe for all of us), holiness is the key. The deep-down need to grow the sprout of holiness that is pushing through the flaws, moving it aside to stretch out and grow closer to the Son. Water and sunlight and fertilizer aren't the answer here. It's study and prayer and deeper relationships with other believers. Throw in a mature Godly mentor and he's got the makings of a spiritual walk like he's never imagined.

It was a conversation given to us by the Holy Spirit. It was one I was chewing on for awhile. I have no fears for his safety once he leaves here and gives his all to fight for the freedom and liberty bestowed on us by our Creator. What I do ponder often are the decisions he makes when he has no one but himself and God to answer to. I pray this conversation helped him to consider his decision-making process before he leaves to make his way on his own. Maybe when decision time comes, it will be easy to know which fork in the road to take because he'd already studied the map.

Happy New Year Everyone...

2010-01-01T16:50:00.003-06:00

Just a little note to say Happy New Year. It's been fun to read what some of my friends are planning for themselves this new year. I am excited for them. I am very poor at making resolutions, mostly, I think, because I am relatively unmotivated. MJF makes 3 or 4 at the beginning of any given year and within a week he has achieved his goal. It makes me want to slap him silly.

This year I just want to keep my family happy. Going back to school has presented a whole host of difficulties keeping my home in order and I will have to create an organized system like never before. I'm thankful for the Flylady (www.flylady.net) in that area. I also have to lose A LOT of weight. More than I have since having kids. I am counting on Bruce Ammons (www.lose17in17.com) and Atkins (www.atkins.com) and Couch to 5K (www.coolrunning.com) for help in that area. I'm also committed to cooking more at home which I hope will help the bank account. That is the hardest challenge for me since I am not a good cook and I am very bored with it. Of course the more I try to enjoy myself with the chore, the less my family enjoys what I serve. I have yet to find the help I need with organizing my meal plans although I've been given a couple suggestions from friends. I will probably end up with index cards and the grocery store fliers to help me in that area. Of course my studies will take the most work and I have included study time into each day's schedule. I am counting on my brain to keep me at the current 4.0 I am at. I am also counting on prayer to keep College Algebra from ruining that 4.0. Most importantly though is supporting our church family in the Bible reading and scripture memorization planned for 2010. Ironically, although it will be the easiest, most enjoyable, and most beneficial to the whole family, I know it will be the most challenging of all to keep as a daily part of our lives. Why is that?

There's a lot on my list but it actually fits. I add in a couple hours once a week to scrapbook and my weekly visit to Kate's school library to help shelve books and our Wednesdays and Sundays at my favorite place on earth - Colonial Heights Baptist Church - and I have a schedule that, should I enlist my Holy Spirit given fruit of self-discipline should provide all that I and my family need to end 2010 happy campers.

Today I feel excited and motivated - tomorrow I will feel something very different. And that, alas, is the problem - FEEL. I have always struggled with succumbing to my feelings more than following what I have known to be necessary. Setting goals and writing To-Do lists have always ended in bitter failure because I am not motivated by those things. Actually I am not sure what motivates me at all. So in spite of the list I gave previously, encapsulating all I must accomplish in 2010, the reality is, there is only ONE thing I need to accomplish. I need to end my insistence of allowing emotion to dictate the direction I go. I know how to set good goals and write good To-Do lists. I need to look at them and work them and stop thinking and start doing.

So, in 2010, I am going to find out how to tap the promise of Self-Control that I have been given as a child of God and use it. I will let you know how I manage. Pray for me. It could be a rough year!

"Please remember about a good Christmas."

2009-12-14T22:52:00.003-06:00

My Christmas will be merry. I can't remember a time when it hasn't been. Even now, I can reflect upon different Christmas celebrations before and after my parents divorced and they are always merry thoughts. Well, happy thoughts. Kate wrote "Happy Christmas" on something she was making the other day and Josh told her she was wrong. "It's Merry Christmas, it's supposed to be MERRY!" Hmmmm. Nope, Happy Christmas is exactly what it is. And from her perspective THAT is what a good Christmas is.

Kate came home with a note she wrote in school. She was so proud to show me that it was supposed so be a note to Santa but she crossed out the "Dear Santa" and wrote in "Dear Mom and Dad" She was proud of that because we don't do Santa and she was threatened within an inch of her life to keep the truth about Santa to herself. We told her that was for each child's parents to decide when to tell their children. Now, in second grade, she has found other children in her class that don't believe in Santa. The fact that these other children are Muslim and Jewish seem to be lost on her and the kids that do believe in Santa don't seem to be phased that there are kids in her class that reject the celebration of Christmas altogether. I guess the truth is, if our kids want to believe in Santa, they will regardless of what other kids say or do.

The point I am taking a long time to get to is what she wrote in her letter.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I want more Wii games. Can I have a little dog? Can I have a nice Christmas?
I love you.
Can I have an American Girl Doll? Can I have a My Twin Doll?
Thank you for everything.
You are the best ever.
Please remember about a good Christmas.
Love, Kate

She handed this to me and as I read it I thought "well, she's not getting new Wii games but Josh is so she'll be able to play with them. And she knows better than to ask for a puppy! and yes, she is getting an American Girl doll but not the one she asked for but she'll realize why I got her the one I got her. And NO she already has a My Twinn Doll and for heavens sake does she think money grows on trees? And of course we are the best ever because it's almost Christmas and she knows she getting presents and she is happy with us." Then I said to her aloud. "Kate, what do you mean you want an nice Christmas? You also said later you want a good Christmas. Do you mean you won't have a good or nice Christmas without the toys you want?"

"Oh no mommy" she explained. "I mean a good Christmas, one where we are all happy and get along and no one is upset or disappointed and we all have fun together and you know..... "

And yes, I knew what she meant. She meant like last year when we all spent Christmas in Florida and we had no agenda, no one calling or coming over or close quarters. A Christmas where a 19 and 16 and 11 and 7 year old could all be in the same house together doing the same things TOGETHER and everyone was laughing all the time. That had to have been the best Christmas by far that we all had together.

How could I tell her that there was most likely not going to be that kind of perfect scenario this year. It's not that we don't have "happy" Christmases as a family it's just that there are 6 of us and we each have our own personalities and there's nothing new here. We have the same stressors and the same people to deal with and the same responsibilities. Being in Florida was like an escape to a special heavenly spot. I almost wish she didn't remember what it felt like to be us when we were there.

This year will be a bit different for us though. We have a 19 year old who is seeing an Air Force recruiter this week which means by Christmas he will have an idea of how many days he has left as a permanent resident in our home. I have a 16 year old college freshman who, as exciting as it is that he was able to get into college early, the reality is that he will be leaving home early too. I had a conversation with Kate about how in less than two years our home will instantly be a family of four. She is diametrically opposed to this fact. But, as I told her, it's the way it's supposed to be. She and Josh beg to differ with me on that point stating emphatically "We will live with you forever. We will never leave. I promise" Thankfully, I spoke those same words to my mother in 7th grade. I can remember saying them as clearly as I remember yesterday and I remember what house we lived in at the time and that I was on the screened-in porch when I said it. She told me "You will leave and it's ok because you are supposed to and I will be happy for you when you do" or something like that.

I had a better answer for them. "The Bible says you all are supposed to leave. That God created you to leave your mom and dad and fall in love and get married and concentrate on making your own wonderful family. And I am always happy when you do what God tells you to do." What is it about children that makes them think that if they leave their mommy will be lonely?

So, in reality this will most likely be the last Christmas we will be together in the same way we've been together for years and years and years. Maybe that is why I have been crying for a month. Me, the woman who hates crying more than almost anything and I can't stop. I can't have a conversation about anything without crying through it. I cannot understand it except to say that my heart understands the reality of my changing situation and although my head is thrilled about it all because it is the way life is supposed to be I am not sure my heart can hold back the implications of the way it's supposed to be. I had a dear friend once tell me that I was the best compartmentalizer she's ever known and she is absolutely right. But the truth is that I think my compartments are full and I have no where else to hide my emotions.

So, Kate, my sweet precious daughter. I will do everything I can to give you a good Christmas. Because from now on, our Christmases will never be the same.

MOM!!! You're Embarrassing Me....

2009-11-14T16:32:00.004-06:00

I love Emma, no, you're right, my daughter's name is Kate, but Emma is her BFF. I really mean that, they are closer than almost any two girls I've ever seen in my life. To be honest, not only can I not imagine Kate without Emma, I can't imagine me without Emma. She makes me smile. Just seeing the back of her head brings a smile to my face. She is the tiniest little thing. She and Kate are only 30 minutes apart in age but Kate is a whole head taller. They have almost everything in common and it's amazing to me to watch them together.

The other night Kate went to Emma's for dinner. We went out and left the big boys in charge. I told Sam that Kate would be home shortly but by 8pm she was still not home. I called Emma's mom and she had totally forgotten Kate was there. That's the definition of Kate and Emma. They are so happy together that they make everyone else around them happy, whether it's because they play so quietly and happily together or because they are just so much fun to be with.

Today Emma came over for a couple hours. As is typical for them, they immediately found some clothes to change into so they looked like twins. Oh, if you saw them you'd laugh at the thought! Of course, they had another plan, they were writing a song. They ran outside to the trampoline and in about 20 minutes they came in with a song written on a piece of paper. They wanted me to read it and as I did, I noticed a real obvious chorus. I asked them how the song sounded and they didn't have any melody for it yet so I added one of my own. It was actually pretty good and Emma just laughed and laughed. Kate laughed too but through her laughs she giggled "Mom, stop, you are embarrassing me!" Normally, that would have stopped me in my tracks and really almost hurt my feelings but I could tell that whatever embarrassment she was feeling it wasn't severe - she had her bff with her and Emma felt perfectly at home here with us. They just continued to laugh and skip off to Kate's room. Within minutes they announced they were going to Emma's. Then they bopped out the door and down the street.

When Rebekah died and I found out I was pregnant with Josh, my mom was sad for me. Oh she knew my little baby boy would be beautiful and wonderful and fun but she insisted that there was nothing like a little girl. I found that hard to believe because all I knew were little boys and I adored my little boys. I was sad that I didn't have a daughter to raise but I couldn't imagine that they would be so different that she was actually sad I didn't have one in my life. Of course, God knew exactly what He wanted to do all along and having a daughter was part of His plan for me. Just months after Josh's 4th birthday Kate was born. And almost immediately I learned the differences between the genders. As my dear friend Cindy, the mother of 4 daughters, said to me "Girls will rock your world!". And she was right.

I can't imagine my life without her. She adds something to my life that I can't explain. One thing that excites me is how much we enjoy being together. She is becoming quite a pal to me. I miss her when she's gone and am excited to see her walk through the door on her way home from school. I love the person she is becoming and delight in the comments other mothers and her teachers at school and church say about her: she's sweet, kind, welcoming to all new students. She plays well and has compassion on those who she thinks are being left out. She's polite and respectful and they all love having her around. Notice they don't say that she's cute, popular, or oh, so talented... although she is cute and talented, popular is not an impressive thing to me. I am delighted in how others view her, she makes me so excited to see what God's got in store for her, she's got what it takes to follow Him to the ends of the earth. I hope that's what she wants to do.

Had we not been blessed with Kate, I wouldn't fully understand my mom's sadness for me. But now, I understand what she was feeling. My daughter is doing for me what her daughter did for her. Although I think having Christ in common takes my relationship with Kate much deeper, my mom and I love each other very much and we really enjoy being together. I hope Kate and I don't have the friction that my mom and I had when I was a preteen but a lot of the struggles she and I had are not part of the life that Kate and I share. I am thankful that Kate has the examples of her brothers to watch. Three much older boys who love their parents and are just as happy to hang out with us as they are with their buds. Of course they will choose their buds over us if that decision has to be made (a decision I think is just fine - we like their buds) but they don't feel a constant pull away from home. And they have rarely had lapses in judgement to the degree of disrespecting their parents. I pray that she sees what a wonderful family she is a part of and delights in us as she grows into adolescence as we will delight in her. God's got quite an adventure planned for her, I can't wait to see where He leads her.

It's just safer that way...

2009-11-06T09:44:00.003-06:00

I'm so thankful it's November. Not for the obvious reasons, MJF's birthday, beautiful fall weather, Thanksgiving holiday... but because October was the month from Hell for me. I am usually, at the end of a hard time, thankful for what I have learned and encouraged by the person I had grown to become through persevering and allowing God to work in and through my experiences; this time, I learned absolutely nothing... some rules on how I interact with my kids were confirmed though and I guess that is a good thing.

One rule, that I learned the hard way was to understand that teenagers will rarely "diss" themselves. Therefore, whether they lie purposely or not, they will rarely share the truth about a bad situation they get themselves into. I'm not even talking about getting in trouble. But if they find themselves in a negative situation that they need their parents to help them out with, especially if their negative situation involves another adult, parents, I am telling you, you will not get the whole story. I have found teenagers, boys AND girls, to be over emotional, easily embarrassed, and lacking realistic perception of their situations.

If they are telling you about something that happened to them with an adult involved and you hear that this adult did "this", said "this", failed to say "this", embarrassed them like "this" chances are you are not getting the whole story. We allowed this to happen ONCE and assumed we were getting completely accurate information and by the time the circumstances were laid out on the table, MJF and I were crawling under it in embarrassment. I am just thankful that the relationship we were dealing with wasn't one of great importance or emotional connection. It is hard to look at your child and explain, in the midst of tears, that before you are going to rise up to their defense, that you want to hear what the calm adult has to say about the circumstances. Many times not only is the problem not as severe as they are making it out to be but more often than not, your precious child isn't giving you the whole story.

These are hard things to read, I know. They are even harder things to write. We all want to believe certain things about our kids but we also have to understand who they are, at least as teens. I have found that understanding my kids' true natures at particular ages has helped me to move them from being "self-focused" to "other focused". When I make it clear that I want the WHOLE story they realize that there were two or more people involved, then they have to look at what part they played in the interaction and not just what someone said or did to them.

I am not saying that I wouldn't stand in front of a speeding train for my kids. I would, in a heartbeat. I am also not saying I would never believe my child over an adult. What I am saying is that I have learned the hard way that "everything is not always as it seems" and I don't want to be quick to sacrifice or damage a relationship because I don't want to admit or realize the true nature of my child. I am still on my child's side - always - I just want him to learn that there are consequences to his behavior and he will have to accept what comes his way based on his words and deeds. I am very thankful that this learning experience took place in a "business-type" relationship. I have found, and am guilty of myself, that friends don't always want to tell you the truth about who your kids are. In this instance, we were given a pile-ful of information on our child, most of which was hard to hear but it explained quite a lot when all was said and done. It was at that point that we determined we needed to take a good look at all our kids. We needed to understand their strengths and weaknesses. We needed to take a look at our parenting and if we were being honest with ourselves about who our kids are and was our image of our children more than it should be. It's not easy to size up your kid but it has helped us, when any of them have been in trouble of any kind, to know for sure if we felt they were capable of doing what they were being accused of. Sometimes we've just responded with a big apology and knew immediately that, yes, they were most likely very guilty of what they were accused of and we knew what had to be done to fix the problem. At other times we were able to say, "No way did our kid do that" and in the end, the truth prevailed. To be honest, I have found very few parents willing or able to do this. I can tell you, it will be worth more than words can say, if you come to terms with the realities of who your kids are. You will never regret it.

Another rule that was confirmed for me in October was one I came to on my own. I had read enough over the years to develop this rule and it surprised me when I vocalized it to someone, only then realizing it was something that was part of how I parented my kids. Never allow your child to become your best friend. Yes, I know, I said Never - YIKES. Aren't we told that "never" and "always" are two words we should stay away from? Of course, so then, OK, to appease some of you - "almost never" - how's that? I guess when they are 60 and you are 80 it's OK. Notice, I didn't say "don't become your child's best friend". That my friend is a different story, maybe equally as problematic but I've not seen the damage from that that I have seen from the other. Why do I say this? Because, they can't handle it. Understand that for most teens and young adults, regardless of how they act toward you at any particular phase in their lives, they adore you! They love you to the point of wanting to defend you and protect you in a way similar to the way you want to do the same for them. By the time they are teens they feel they have the strength and intelligence to be able to do that for you so the "mode" kicks in. But they are still very immature. They rarely understand idiosyncrasies of words, phrases, and relationships and still view many of them literally.

Here's where things get complicated. Ladies, your need for a best friend comes from your need to just dump your thoughts, feelings, emotions, trials, tribulations, etc... If you choose your teenage or young adult child (boy or girl) to share those thoughts with you will find those thoughts repeated to another. Worse, you will find them repeating the thoughts you shared about someone TO that same someone. Here's the rub, most of the times, the thoughts you shared about another won't have been shared in the manner in which you meant then but in the manner in which the teen perceived them. Therefore, what you end up with is, in a negative situation, regardless of how it got there, your teen, in protection mode, throws out your dirty laundry and the comment you made about the adult she is speaking to. Hard to follow? yes, I know, it's hard for me to follow too and I wrote it. But the point I am trying to make is that our teens aren't mature enough to handle the mess that we need to occasionally unload and before you know it, you have found yourself in a situation that in irreparable.

I have to check, often, my conversations with my oldest boys. At 19 and 16 they are good buddies to me. I love taking them to lunch and talking about their thoughts and ideas. But I have learned to rarely share many of mine with them. Not only do I not want them burdened with my "junk" but I also don't want their perception of anyone to be skewed because I have an issue with someone that they may take out of context or even if it is in context, they don't need to have negative thoughts of. Once I plant a seed in their minds, I can't take it out. So I save my deep-seated thoughts and emotions for MJF or Pam or Cyndi. Not only can they separate my issues from their own and not take them upon themselves, but they also know how to perceive them. And I trust that they will not only be honest with me in our discussions but keep them to themselves.

So, for those of you who think that I have some gift at advising you on parenting (that is always questionable) I hope that you chew on these things right now, especially if you have yet to hit the teen years with your kids. Some of you are going to be aghast and will have a hard time imagining a relationship like "best friends" with your child going awry.. if you choose that route, I hope it goes well for you. But although my children will all tell you we are friends, and the two boys, I am sure will tell you we are great friends. There are a lot of things in my heart that they will never know. Even when they are much older. I think it's safer that way for everyone.

Revelation 21:4

2009-09-14T10:47:00.003-05:00

I saw a girl in my Intro to Law class meltdown today. She didn't have her act together. She was missing classes, not ready for the test, and couldn't handle it when I mentioned a paper I thought was due today but not due until next week. I felt bad for her but I didn't know what to say. We all, in the class, have had some opportunity to melt down. Whether it's been on campus or at home, we are, some of us more than others, hanging on by the skin of our teeth. Most of us have our meltdowns because we are behind on our laundry, forgetting to fix dinner, not attending to our classwork because we have to attend to our children's classwork. Or just feeling like we can't put the right amount of time or attention into all the things we've heaped onto our plates. We as women, more so the older ones, like me, heap way too much on our plates. We have this intellectual knowledge that we can't do everything but our hearts have a big "S" for Superwoman branded onto them. And those were the very reasons that her tears were flowing. I didn't have it in me to say "Hey, hang in there, you can do it." Mostly because I didn't think I should. Maybe she shouldn't be doing it. Maybe what she imagined she was capable of right now isn't what she is capable of. Maybe she needs to wait a few years, until her children get older and more independent and then it will be the right time. It's not that I didn't think she could handle the coursework which would lead her to a good job, I just wondered if she should be attempting it at all right now. But then, maybe I was wrong and I should have put my arm around her and encouraged her. Maybe my own desperation to have one more look at my index cards to cram just one more bit of information into my head to be successful on my test that morning kept me from being the support she needed. Maybe my own selfishness blinded me to her hurt and I was able to find a good excuse to make me feel better.

And that brings me to something I've been wrestling with for a month now. Why do I choose to behave differently from one person to another? Why did I not see in her the need to hold her but maybe would have considered that for another? After a month of seriously pondering this and even losing sleep over this I still have no answer. I can only think that I see every situation differently. And even then, I still will rarely hold someone while they cry. I don't think I've held one of my crying children since they've been 9 or 10. It's not that we aren't affectionate, we are all very affectionate. I guess it's just, having boys, I've had to almost have it beaten into me that I have to be very careful about how I manage their emotions. Granted, I'm not the most compassionate woman in the world; that has been made plenty clear to me by many, many people. But I am not heartless or devoid of the ability to feel tenderness toward anyone.

So, I guess this will just be something that I wrestle with for the rest of my life. I have never turned away my crying children, I've never left a crying baby in a crib all night because I care more about my sleep than my child. I've never let my preschooler dry his own eyes after falling down on the sidewalk and skinning his knee. I have always held my daughter close when the girls in 1st grade made a "club" during recess and wouldn't include her. There's just something that happens when they get older. I guess it's almost a feeling that I have that I don't want them to cry. After all, I NEVER want to cry myself. I work very hard at not crying even in front of my closest friends and even in front of my husband. I was even very uncomfortable with MJF when he cried as he held our daughter Rebekah Joy after her death.

I guess the question is this... what is wrong with me?

It's not as if I haven't asked this question of myself before. Not regarding this particular issue, there are many.

I don't anticipate knowing what is wrong with me but I do know one thing. I am not a heartless, calloused person. I never have been and I never will be. I have a very private part of me that will most likely never be unearthed by anyone. I will die with thoughts and feelings and parts of me never being known by anyone but God. The lesson for me here is to remember that if I have those parts of me, most likely others do as well. For me to jump to a conclusion about anyone because of who they appear to be is folly. We are all so complicated, and we put so many expectations on ourselves and others.

I am truly looking forward to heaven where all is clean, honest, and pure. Where our relationships are joyous and our eyes are all on the same prize. I can't wait for heaven. I can't wait to restore broken relationships and be reunited with old friends in Christ. I am excited to realize that I won't do anything to hurt someone's feelings and that there's not a person in heaven who will disappoint me - EVER.

And in heaven, I don't have to be concerned with whether or not I think to comfort a sobbing acquaintance... no one will be just an acquaintance and no one will be sobbing.

Ta-daaaaa...

2009-09-11T14:29:00.004-05:00

It is Friday. I have come to love Fridays. I have a rule in my home, have had it for years, that no one, upon returning from school, is allowed to mention the word homework. I hate homework because of the responsibility I have to make sure it's done and put in the right spot so that it gets handed in the next day. To be painfully honest, I hate responsibility period, but that is a post for another day.

Although Fridays usually start with me going back to bed after the little kids leave for school, it didn't work out that way today. So I found myself sitting in the big, comfy, recliner listening to Laura Ingraham interview Andrew Breitbart (he rocks); sipping hot tea in my jammies. Out of nowhere I heard a "ta-da" and realized that it was a cell phone text or calendar alarm. I knew it wasn't mine and that it came from a pile of old cell phones MJF was organizing to send to some organization that pays you according to their worth. Anything to make a few extra bucks!

I pulled Drew's old cell phone out, opened it up and there it was in bold letters: 9/11/09 NEVER FORGET, and I started to cry. My precious 19 year old son, only 11 at the time those towers were hit, had set this reminder to go off every year.

That's really why I couldn't go back to sleep this morning. That says a lot since I relish being able to climb back under my covers and doze on and off listening to my favorite morning radio guys Rick and Bubba. The memories of 9/11/01 flooded my mind and the sadness of how far down the slippery slope our country is going just made me unable to relax and rest. So when that "ta-da" sounded and I saw that my son had made sure he would NEVER FORGET, all the emotion that I didn't even realize was still there flooded my heart.

That day 8 years ago changed our whole family. With MJF being a special agent in the FBI he was immediately taken from our home and told to be clear with his family that a return date could not be given. I didn't know on the day he left if he'd return in a week, a month, or longer. We had just moved into a new home in a new town and didn't have phone or cable television yet (that was immediately remedied). I was pregnant with Kate and very, very sick. The boys - 11, 8, and 3 were still not completely unpacked and I was homeschooling. I knew no one, most of my home was still in boxes and I was using all I had to be "supportive" to MJF who had a huge mission ahead of him, pulling bodies or what was left of them out of the pentagon. Each night he was gone I fell asleep to Fox News playing and replaying the towers being hit and woke throughout the night and each morning to the same pictures. I had to decipher what was best for each child regarding what they'd watch and what they wouldn't. But the one thing we would all watch was our precious President George W Bush give one of the most moving funeral messages I'd ever heard.

By the time MJF returned I had arranged for Josh to be put into preschool and told him that upon getting off the train (planes were still not flying) he was to go to the elementary school and arrange for the boys to be enrolled. Ten days without MJF wasn't difficult. Ten days without MJF immediately following the 9/11 attacks was unbearable. That event changed him in ways I will never understand. It changed me in ways I can't articulate. It changed the entire course of our family dynamics.

Of course there are many, many people whose lives changed in far more serious and sad ways than mine. I write this not to in any way assume that what the attacks on 9/11/01 did to change our family and ourselves mattered at all to anyone but us and God. I write this to share my thoughts and my memories.

Ronald Reagan said many years before that horrible event:

I believe with all my heart

that standing up for America means

standing up for the God who has so blessed

our land.

We need God's help to guide our nation

through stormy seas.

But we can't expect him to protect

America in a crisis if we just leave Him

over on the shelf in our day-to-day living.

I firmly believe in God's total Sovereignty. I believe with all my heart that not a germ goes by or a thought is expressed that isn't known to God. I am convinced that He allows whatever He wants to allow for purposes that we may or may not one day understand. He is God and we are not. I can't help but wonder if our leaving God on the shelf in our day-to-day living as Americans had something to do with God allowing those planes to hit the towers. I, of course, will never know on this side of heaven but it wouldn't surprise me. What is so terribly disappointing is that for the few weeks that followed the attacks it seemed we, as Americans, were going to get our lives together and focus on eternal things again. Sadly, in the end, that didn't happen.

For we must consider that we shall be as a City upon a hill.

the eyes of all people are upon us. so that if we shall deal falsely with our

God in this task we have undertaken and so cause

Him to withdraw His present help from us,

we shall be made a story and a byword throughout the world.

john winthrop,

governor of the massachusetts bay colony 1630

America was born a Christian nation. America was born

to exemplify that devotion to the elements of righteousness, which

are derived from the revelations of Holy Scriptures. Part of

the destiny of America lies in their daily perusal of this great

book of revelations. That if they would see America free and pure

they will make their own spirits free and pure by this baptism

of the Holy Spirit.

president woodrow wilson

Our strength lies in spiritual concepts.

It lies in public sensitiveness to evil. Our greatest

danger is not from invasion by foreign armies.

Our dangers are that we may commit suicide

from within by complaisance with evil, or

by public tolerance of scandalous behavior.

president herbert hoover

I pray that these words from men who long ago had no inkling that anything like the attacks of 9/11/01 would ever take place, would pierce our hearts and remind us that "If My people who are called by My name will humble themselves and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land.

(2 chron. 7:14; italics mine)

May we truly never forget.

Let the Boys Be Boys, Please!

2009-06-16T20:02:00.004-05:00

I have been thinking a lot about boys lately. And I've been realizing something, not all parents are cut out to be "boy" parents. Maybe it's more like not all moms are cut out to be "boy" moms. Most of the women I'd put in that category don't have boys, or if they do, those boys are grown men today. I say that because the women I put in that category don't know how to pick their battles. I find they wear themselves out over things that are just plain meaningless. It may take me a bit to elaborate on this, but hang with me, hopefully by the end of this post I will have made my point.... hopefully.

Years ago when the liberals were working harder than ever before to damage the morale of the military, Rush Limbaugh quoted a friend of his saying "The purpose of the military is to kill people and break things". I bring up this quote because I think we have to keep this in mind when we raise boys. Yes, I know, we do have women in the military and I appreciate all Americans who are risking their lives to further democracy all over the world but the reality is that it's our boys who were made for that kind of work. Many a doctor, psychologist, or even a pastor will make the statement that failing to give our sons guns to play with will only result in them creating guns out of their own fingers and thumbs. Our boys were created to be rough, to be loud, to be fast, and to be reckless. It's our job to smooth out the edges not to completely flatten them.

Boys don't care what they look like, what they smell like, or who they are running after. They don't even really care who's running after them as long as they can either outrun the other kid (or animal) or if they turn and face their "attacker" that they can "take" them. Boys are funny like that - when they get upset with each other they beat the snot out of each other and then get up, dust themselves off, and go about playing what it was they were playing to begin with.

Of course as their mom (I have three boys) I did care what they looked like when they went off our property and always cared what they smelled like. I worked with them on this in the midst of compromise. I had one dresser drawer full of play clothes that they pulled out and put on whenever they were around the house or in the yard. Once we went somewhere they had to pull clothes from another drawer and match. They had to be clean before they went to bed and when we went out but otherwise I told them that if they returned from playing outside clean I would send them back to get dirty, clean meant they didn't play hard enough. They learned there were times and places for every activity but they could always look forward to being boys every day.

I tried really hard to not shriek when I thought a jump from one item to the other (of course no jumping on the furniture - a line has to be drawn somewhere) might cause a tooth to be knocked out or a lip to bleed. There are just some injuries these boys are going to get. A scar on the chin of man is rugged, shows he was a bit of a risk-taker as a child, and there's always a good laugh that comes from the telling of where that and other scars came from. Let the boys get roughed up. It's good for them.

They also need to be allowed NOT to cry. Of course, we want our sons to be able to cry when it's appropriate... it's rarely appropriate and truthfully, as they age, they need to learn when it's not appropriate. My favorite saying around here is "Suck it up and take it like a man" My seven year old daughter doesn't really like it when I say it to her though. The boys don't need to quiver their chins every time they fall and skin their knee. They don't need to cry each time their feelings get hurt. (Although the tears I get from my sons when other people they care deeply for get hurt emotionally or otherwise warms my heart to say the least). They need to realize that although frustration may make them want to cry, they can't, they have to take a deep breath, pray about it, and advance.

They have to learn to do all these things because one day there will be a wife and children that will look to each of them for rock solid stability when something happens to make them wonder if their world is about to crash around them. Because when the world is crashing down around them their wives are going to want to be held by them while they sob and know that until it's all over they have one who is stronger than they are seeing it all through. Because those children will learn to view their heavenly Father in a way based on how they view their earthly father.

Don't misunderstand me, there will be times when my boys will become men (2 almost are) and they will want to cry; they will have to cry. But it's my job, our job, to help them learn when to cry.

I don't want them to be afraid, not for one split second. If I spend my time saying "Oh, honey, don't do that you could get hurt. Don't do that it might break. Oh, Oh be careful" then they will be afraid of everything. I want them to grab onto a rope and swing as far and as fast as they can and free fall into the water. I want them to try to go further and faster and have more fun than they had the weekend before. I want them to try to do everything that they can and attempt to do things that they never thought they could. I want them to do that because one day they may need to protect their families from an intruder. Because one day they may need to stand their ground in opposition to something that is important to them. Because some day their wife or their children will need them to stand up to something that could define my son's character for a lifetime and they can't be afraid to do that. The implications are endless and I don't want to look back and wonder what I did to hold them back.

Of course, all of this comes with guidelines, common sense, and balance. When our daughter Rebekah died, my sons saw their daddy cry, but it wasn't until the funeral. They saw their mommy cry much more often. And they saw their mommy and daddy comfort each other as well. When our children got injured we worked hard to be calm and make clear how there was never a reason to get worked up. When it was something as meaningless as a cut on the knee we put on the band aid and sent them on their way. But when we needed to go to the ER we went. When Kate's toe got cut off by the weight machine, all three boys witnessed it and they screamed all the way up to their rooms. It was a horrible experience and it was appropriate for them to react that way. But they saw their parents being calm and in control in spite of what had happened.

I don't want the boys throwing knives at each other for kicks but if they want to get a bucket of ping pong balls and wing them at each other while shirtless to see who can cause the biggest, reddest welt then by all means, have at it. The only rule is: if you join in the game, there's no crying afterward. The best story of all is when Michael took Sam to play paintball and within the first 5 minutes ruined the whole game by shooting Sam in the groin with his first shot. Sam went down and rolled on the ground in pain for 15 minutes or more. Michael hit the ground as well, he was laughing hysterically. Both Sam and I learned lessons from that experience. Sam's lesson was that playing any shooting game with an FBI agent was probably not a good idea. My lesson was that although he was in excruciating pain and he never wanted to play paintball again (and he never did) he was more than delighted to share the story and hold up the pants with the white paint stain on the crotch. To this day, almost 5 years later, he still tells that story with pride.

I debated on writing this but a story I heard recently led me to this point. It was sort of the straw that broke the camel's back. The story was from a missionary couple I know who before their retirement watched young missionary couples come and go year after year because the parents of those young couples would call them and whine and complain about how far away they were and how they'd never see their grand kids or how dangerous it was. It broke their hearts as young couples who believed God had called them into the mission field couldn't stand firm in their resolve because their parents didn't want their children so far away and in possible danger. What have we done? What have we become?

My oldest son wants to become a full time missionary. He wants to go wherever God leads him, that might mean to China, Africa, South America, or maybe San Francisco (yikes). It's my job to make sure he's ready to leave our home, able to confidently say good bye, and know that his parents are praying for him, loving him, missing him, and available to him. But never should he worry that we can't get along without him or that we worry about him so much that we would tell him we need him to be here with us.

I don't know for sure what the other two boys want to do with their lives. Whatever it is, we will support them. Most likely it will take them away from us. But then, a long time ago, when they were small enough to fit in our arms from head to toe, we brought them before the Lord and our church and gave them to God. Yes... we GAVE them, with our whole hearts, with our whole minds. We GAVE them knowing full well that God would have His way with them.

We need to realize that boys NEED to be boys. We don't allow them to be disrespectful, uncaring, calloused, disobedient, or rebellious. But we do need to raise our sons to grow up to be the men that they are created to be. We need to raise the kind of men that God called to be judges and that Christ called to follow Him.

Marley and Megan

2009-06-15T21:01:00.002-05:00

I really am not much of a movie watcher. I don't know why. I don't inherently dislike movies, some of them I adore. Shadowlands, the story of CS Lewis, is one of my all time faves. But then so is My Cousin Vinnie and X-Men. I know, what a combination. But I rarely love movies like Shadowlands because some parts are sad, very sad, and I think there is enough sadness to go around in real life, I don't care to experience the sadness of others very much.

Two weekends ago, I didn't have a choice. Megan died on June 2nd and we left on the 4th to drive to Jacksonville, AL for her visitation and funeral. We stayed with some of my favorite people in the world so we decided to stay for several days. Sam had been there for two weeks with Bradley, Megan's brother, trying to be supportive through Megan's last days and I really missed him. Plus we were going to bring Bradley home with us, I was looking forward to that.

So we spent a lot of time watching a lot of people shedding a lot of tears. It was hard but it was good, in some ways. I sat in the funeral, with plenty of time before it started, watching the power point presentation of Megan's life loop over and over. Many of the pictures on that loop were from her trip to Disney just before she was hospitalized. It was at that moment I realized who those "Make A Wish" trips were for. Those left behind. That memory of Megan having a blast at Disney and Sea World and all the places she went to will be forever with Gary and Ian and Bradley. It was good because I saw my 6ft 185 pound almost 16 year old virtually cradle his 7 year old sister on his lap during the funeral as tears streamed down his cheeks. I knew then he related to Bradley in a way he didn't realize he could relate before. I knew then that he realized that could have just as easily been him burying his sister.

But then, one day a long time ago, it was him. He did bury a little sister before. To my surprise, I realized a couple weeks ago that Rebekah was born the same year as Megan. Those girls are the same age. I wonder if Sam had any memory of the day he sat at the graveside of his sister as they buried her. We've been through our own times of sadness and I really don't enjoy living through other's whether they are real or imagined even if it all ends well.

Unfortunately I found myself last night watching Marley and Me. I'd not seen it, I never planned on seeing it. I love Jennifer Aniston but not enough to see a movie just because she's in it. But it was on my TV and I wanted to cuddle with my daughter so I sat through the last half. The only problem was as I watched the tender scene when John stared at Marley, knowing he was about to die, and told him all the wonderful things about him; then John laid across Marley's body in pure sorrow as his beloved pet died before his eyes, I couldn't help but think of Gary and Megan.

I wondered if Gary sat next to her bed and held her hand as her eyelids fluttered while she was unresponsive. I wondered if Gary told her all the incredible things that made her Megan. I wondered if when they pronounced her if he laid across her body to try to make a lasting imprint of her on him, that somehow if he laid on her long enough he'd forever have her with him. I wondered those things because that is what I did with Rebekah, I thought if I put my hand on her face long enough that her face would forever be etched in the palm of my hand. It wasn't, and Megan will fade in a way over time for Gary and Ian and Bradley, too.

On the way to Jacksonville I was thinking about how this long haul with Megan was finally over. She was in Glory with her mother. Gary and the boys, although incredibly sad, would be able to pick up the pieces and move on and maybe after 10 years of battling cancer, they could get a break. My thoughts were interrupted by my cell phone. It was my mom. My sweet sister-in-law, Na just received word that her cancer had returned - after almost 6 years of being clean. They are all devastated. I am devastated.

See... life is sad enough.

Wake Up To Shouts of Joy... With Friends.

2009-06-03T11:58:00.003-05:00

Psalm 30:5b says, Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning."

Megan died yesterday. I spent a lot of time thinking about writing this blog today. I had held off until this day because I just haven't been enthusiastic about anything lately. I have been thinking about Megan, wondering what she was thinking as she was getting weaker. I wondered if she was curious about heaven, if she was excited to see her mother again who died 3 years ago from breast cancer. I wondered mostly if she was scared.

I spent time thinking about Gary. I wondered if it was true, that missing a child that you've had years of memories with wasn't as bad as missing one you never had a chance to build memories with. I think it would be worse. I realized after 1am last night that Megan died just before her 13th birthday and Rebekah will celebrate her 13th birthday in heaven next week. Well, not really, I don't think there are birthday celebrations in heaven, but that's for a different post. I wonder if Megan and Rebekah will be friends in heaven.

I was thinking about Ian, Megan's big brother. His birthday is today, June 3rd. I think he's 20 today. He just finished his second year at the Univ. of Alabama. How, more than ever, must he want to be a little boy again and just cry like a child. I bet he doesn't think he can. He can, there would be an awful lot of shoulders more than willing to bear his tears.

I was thinking about Bradley, Megan's other big brother. His 16th birthday was Monday - the day before she died. Bradley, as many of you know, has a special place in my heart. It's a special God-made spot that I don't understand but am so thankful that God can do that and is happy to make that place for him. I worry some about Bradley. He's not really emotional and very few of us will see his tears. And there will be people that won't approve of that. I told him that he can't pretend to be someone he's not. But he does need to be honest with someone about his feelings - all of them. I have been trying to be that adult that he talks to. I really have no agenda and since I'm not related I'm not defensive about anything he says. Mostly, I want him to understand the perspective of the adults in his life so he's not rebellious against them and I want him to have a correct perspective about God in the midst of all of this so that he doesn't hate God or think God has something against him.

I have been thinking a lot about Sam. We took Sam out to stay with Bradley almost 2 weeks ago. He had a lot of jobs for an almost 16 year old boy. He was determined to be Bradley's accountability. Bradley would have had a lot of alone time; with Sam, not so much. But in the end, Sam, the huge hearted young man with compassion the size of Texas, was to be there to love his best buddy. Sam has been there through a lot of this with the Brittain's. As young friends, when we lived in Alabama, Sam and Bradley used to go into Sharon's room and lay on her bed when she was too week to be in the living room with her kids. When Sharon died, we had already moved to WV. I can remember like it was yesterday the phone call from Bradley telling Sam his mom had died. Michael rushed Sam to Bradley's side - telling the school that Sam was leaving for a couple of days and to get over it. Driving all day long for Sam to put his arms around his dear friend and stand beside him as they watched his mother's body lowered beneath the ground.

And now, 3 years later, Sam will once again stand beside his best friend as they watch Bradley's sister's body lowered beneath the ground. I think about my precious Sam and wonder if I will ever know all that God is doing in his life even as I write this. I wonder if Sam really has any idea. I pray that as he pours his love out into the life of his friend that God will pour more of Himself into Sam and that this will be a turning point in Sam's life.

This is my commandment that you love one another, just as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends." John 15:12,13

The Dancing Sparrow....

2009-05-16T18:50:00.004-05:00

Are not five sparrows sold for two cents? Yet not one of them is forgotten before God. Indeed, the very hairs on your head are all numbered. Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows. Luke 12:6-7

I am amazed by God often. So often that any form of "Amazing Grace" brings me to tears. But today put me over the edge. It was Kate's first dance recital with Ballet Magnificat! There's very little in the performance of 7 seven year olds that should bring a grown woman to tears but there were several times when my composure was pushed beyond it's limits and it was all I could do to not look visibly emotional.

About 20 years ago, married only 5 years and with children far from my mind, I sat in a small Christian school auditorium in Fayetteville, NC watching a performance of a dance troupe I'd never heard of before. Ballet Magnificat! hailed from Jackson, MS and gained fame among the Christian community as a dance arts group that performed for two reasons only - to glorify God and bring people to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. It was a small group of young women performing and I adored the music that they chose. Some contemporary Christian (at that time) and some classical but always pulling me in to their message through beautiful movement. I sat there thinking, "If I have a daughter, I would love her to dance with this company."

What a silly thought though. I had no idea when we'd have children or if God would even bless us with a daughter and to be honest, I had no intention of ever living in Jackson, MS.

Children came... first a son, then another son, then a daughter... a very sick daughter who God took home to be with Him. We did move to Jackson, MS and while there we had another son and we decided to be happy with our sweet little, healthy family. Still, when we saw little girls dancing in church it was very hard to not weep. In our minds, our little girl would dance - it always reminded us that God was raising our daughter, not us.

Then, to our surprise, we were blessed with another daughter. By the time she was three she was dancing with Doxa Dance Company in West Virginia. Terri Stutler, her teacher went every other year to Ballet Magnificat! for classes. WOW, I remembered all those years ago watching that performance. Isn't God weird? In a good way, I mean. She danced for two years before we found out we were moving... back to Jackson, MS.

She sat out a year from dancing. She wasn't sure she wanted to dance under anyone else but after seeing DVD's of "The Christmas Dream" performances of Ballet Magnificat! she decided it was time to get back in the game.

Less than one year later, I sat in an audience of hundreds watching my daughter fulfill MY dream. But really, it wasn't she that fulfilled it - it was God. Oh how true that He cares about the smallest of hopes and dreams. So now, we watch little girls dance to music that worships our Lord but we don't cry because our second daughter is dancing with them. Well, that's not true, I cry but it's because I am amazed at His grace, His love, His pleasure at gifting me with the realization of a little hope I had over 20 years ago.

Would I?

2009-05-14T23:39:00.006-05:00

So, I'm reading Trial and Triumph (stories from church history) by Richard M Hannula during my quiet time. It's not all I read, obviously, but it's a great end to my time of scripture reading and prayer and by reading one chapter at a time I am able to get the whole book read in a couple of months. Seventeen years ago, that last sentence would have made me cry. Taking several months to read a book sounds awful. How could I have let my life get so busy? Kids. 'Nuf said.

It's been this book that I think may have exacerbated my little "funk" for the past 6 weeks that I have talked about in a couple previous blog postings. This book begins with the story of Polycarp (69-155 AD) winds through the Middle Ages, the Reformation, and into Modern Times with the closing story of Richard Wurmbrand, the founder of Voice of the Martyrs. From the first to the last these men and women of Christ found themselves tortured day and night for one thing and one thing only, loving Christ with all their heart, mind, and soul.

Day in and day out these men and women were beaten within minutes of their deaths but kept alive and in severe pain and encouraged to renounce their commitment to Christ. I use that word carefully - commitment - we have no idea of the true meaning of the word. Not all of these martyrs were older adults with years of experience seeing God's hand move in their lives and thus building the faith of a mountain. No, many were young, some no older than my own son Drew who although I think has a stronger spiritual foundation than most his age, I wonder if he's seen enough of God to enable him to stand against any "power or principality".

The question really is, could I? I have spent a lot of time thinking about it. Of course, here I am in what is currently a country that allows the freedom of worship. Certainly, there is a chance of getting teased or heckled or maybe on a really bad day, getting spit at but unlike in most countries in this world, my life isn't on the line because of Who I trust in. So it's relatively easy to say "Absolutely, they could burn me at the stake like they did Polycarp or they could imprison me and beat me for years like they did Richard Wurmbrand but I'd not recant, no way!" But really? Would I be as brave as I'd like to believe I would be? I don't know. And those three words bring me to tears and almost to nausea. What I think is true for all of us is this - the Holy Spirit is powerful in those of us who call on the name of Christ. It's the Holy Spirit that will lead me to say, like Polycarp said to his captors:

You threaten me with fire that burns for a little while

then goes out. But you are ignorant of the fire of

eternal punishment which is prepared for the

ungodly. Why do you wait? Come and do what

you want with me?

And then, once the wood and straw was doused with oil and the torch was being carried toward him, he lifted his head toward heaven and said:

Oh Lord God Almighty, the Father of your beloved Son,

Jesus Christ, through Whom we have received the

knowledge of You: I bless You for granting me

the honor of this day and hour that I might be

numbered among the martyrs. You are the

faithful and true God. To You be glory both now

and for the ages to come. Amen.

Convicting Innocence...

2009-04-10T15:16:00.007-05:00

I began this post close to the Easter holiday. I wish I would have posted it. This was the beginning of what grew into a 6 week funk for me and had I posted this, it would have been in my face to remind me of what I needed to remember for the last several weeks. I rarely like to come to terms with my disappointments, mostly because I don't like to admit I have them. After all, look at my life... I live in America to begin with and the rest is just icing on the cake. Of course the most delicious of all is that I've been adopted by the King so who could look at any part of a life like that and see any disappointments? And yet, I'm guilty of it and find myself using that term to describe circumstances in my life lately far too often. Maybe that word, disappointment, should be stricken from my vocabulary as another word is that you will read about here:

I've gained a new understanding about what Jesus said to the rich man when he wanted to go back to earth to warn his siblings about hell. .... I say that because I tried to clear my name the other day and it was a big mistake. I generally don't believe in defending myself because I've felt for many years that my history, my behavior, my words should be all the defense that I need. I even think this way about my kids. Last year Sam was accused of defacing property. I about fell out of my chair laughing. The truth is that had he been accused of kissing a girl I'd have totally believed that - but defacing property, come on! There is no way. I know what my kids are capable of. I am honest about the faults of my children and have rarely if ever shouted "Not my kid!" but I know what their issues are and defacing property is not one of Sam's.

I should have followed my own rules. When I break my own rules I shouldn't be surprised by how things fall apart. I had just had enough of being some one's scapegoat and felt that there was a chance that this particular issue could have damaged my reputation and possibly affected what some people thought of MJF as well. But I learned some valuable lessons from this experience and had other truths validated:

The biggest thing I learned is that ultimately I have to trust God to reveal truth to other people. He will orchestrate situations that cause the guilty to get punished. He promised that in His word and I don't need to doubt it now. I only get in His way and it's my job to just step back and watch.

I realized that in the end, those who I care about the most will either not believe what they hear or they will come to me with questions. Even I am smart enough to realize when people are being falsely accused. I've often said to others "That doesn't sound like something "?" would say or do. I wonder if your facts are wrong?" If I think that why wouldn't others think that as well regarding me? Once again I have to trust God to work in the hearts and minds of my friends.

As I wrote this I realized that this is a story of Christianity in a small way. I can in no way believe that I have been persecuted and treated in the same wretched way that Christ was but we are, at this time, celebrating the crucifixion of an innocent man... an innocent God/man. He always did the right thing - always. He rarely defended Himself but just spoke truth about who He was and who God was. In the end, He trusted His Father through the Holy Spirit and His friends to tell others about Him so the TRUTH could vindicate Him and so other's would believe in Him. It's times like these that bring me comfort and make me realize that Christ is not unaware of my negative experiences and that He can turn those into positive ones even if it's just by teaching me a lesson. It also reminds me why I hate the word FAIR and why I don't allow my kids to use that word and why I need to stop allowing that word even in my head. The punishment of the innocent is never fair but His definition is probably a bit different than ours.

I've Become My Mother...

2009-04-10T01:08:00.003-05:00

Yes, it's true what the title says. I can't decide if I'm glad about that or not. After all, I adore my mom. And she spent most of her adult life sacrificing in many ways for my brother Jimmy and I. I love to spend time with her when we visit and I love when she comes to my home. I get to ask her suggestions on decorating and she gets to see me in my element. We both love hanging out together even though the definition of that changes each visit. She's aging, just like I am, and our time together has to adjust to allow for that.

I remember how literally devastated I was when a few years after MJF and I were married she came to visit. I was so happy to see her I wrapped my arms around her neck and as I leaned away from her and saw her shoes and then her purse I declared "Mom, I love your shoes and purse!" and no sooner did I utter those words when I was crushed... HER tastes hadn't changed, MINE had... I felt that was the beginning of the end for me.

Once I got over that shock I vowed to be my own person. I thought about all the things I loved about how she mothered me and what I wanted to pass down to my kids. I wasn't raised in a Christian home but none-the-less there were basic truths that were part of my upbringing that my parents knew I'd appreciate when I was a parent. They were right because truth is truth regardless of your age. I have held on to some of those things especially the work ethic that both my parents instilled in Jimmy and I and I am thankful for that daily as I see how rare that is today. But there were things that I didn't want to bring into my mothering. Thinking back on my senior prom made the vast differences jump out at me.

I went to a small private school for my senior year. We had just moved to the area and my parents thought that might make my transition smoother if I was able to go there instead of the public school. They thought I'd make friends faster there which would be nice because I was a senior. And they were right, by the end of my senior year I had enough friends that I felt like having the "after-prom" party at my house was a good idea. It was at a time when many were worried about the safety of the kids from midnight until 6 am and I thought that at my house there could be some control. We had a big, beautiful home and with the furniture pushed aside on both floors it'd be a nice place to celebrate.

And celebrate we did. Without any thought my mom went to the local liquor store and got 2 kegs of beer. Of course, like a responsible parent she took everyone's car keys as they walked into the door. And then, in order to leave, they had to return to her up in her bedroom reading, to get them back - not all got them back. Honestly, I cannot believe we really did this. Not just because as a Christian it wouldn't dawn on me for one second to allow alcohol at one of my kid's parties but the fact that it was flat out illegal. I am not sure that that truth was realized by us for one minute. If it did cross her mind, she never let me in on her thoughts but I think we were totally oblivious to it.

It ended up being a good party. My mom, to this day, expresses her amazement that there wasn't a stain on the carpet anywhere when the kids left. Except I wouldn't agree. I think that a lot of kids left with stains. It was true that more kids ended up in my mom's room talking the night away with her than were anywhere else in our home, but in spite of how cool they thought my mom was - they should have realized there was something terribly wrong that night. Why didn't either of us realize that it was wrong to have that beer there?

I often ask myself that question. Almost 30 years later, that behavior haunts me. Isn't that bizarre? I wonder why I even remember that or think about it, but it's pretty true to my character to be concerned with what impression I leave on people. I have friends who think I obsess too much over that but my thinking is that the only way to get credibility is to have integrity.

So, I'm sitting in MY bedroom tonight at almost 1:30 in the morning but the difference is that I only have 4 prom-goers in my living room watching Slum-dog Millionaire and drinking Dr. Pepper and bottled water. They won't stay to watch the sun rise and as they drive home they will pray and thank God for a fun and safe night. And hopefully they will thank Him for Sam's "not so cool" mom who loved them enough to provide her home for them to hang out in and loaded them up on junk food and soda... and that is all.

Have I got a deal for you!

2009-04-01T15:39:00.004-05:00

God amazes me... I know, MJF hates it when I say stuff like that - it's all so simplistic. Of course He amazes me, He's God. But there are times in any given day that He does something that doesn't matter to anyone else but me and if He didn't do it, well, it really wouldn't change my life in any measurable way. It's the fact that He does do those little things, for me. My goodness why, after all, I am nothing. But then again, to Him I am everything because, after all, His Son did die for ME.

Let me elaborate. I had a very hectic day. Wednesdays are full every week but this week even more so because it's Kate's birthday. So I had to leave early from the house to get the cupcakes to take to her class at lunch. Then I had to leave my Precept study early to get to her lunch period to eat with her and pass out the cupcakes. Then I had to go early to my library duties so that I could leave early from my library duties so I could go to the store and get some balloons to put out front before she got home. When I got home from my library duties, before I went for the balloons, lo and behold my 19 year old had just gotten up - yes, I know, it was after noon and that's another story. The begging in his eyes told me everything so off we went to MacAlisters because, frankly, where else would we go for lunch?

I had time. I figured if I left for Kroger at 1:55 then I could get her balloons and be home before they (Kate and Josh) got home from school. It was a beautiful day and they rode their bikes. So, right on time I went to the floral dept and discussed with the girl there what I wanted. While she was filling my balloons we got to talking and realized that we were both Christians and we both had a large family and had kids about the same age. We were encouraging each other and sharing fun stories and I was desperately tracking the time and realizing all my planning was going down the drain as I continued to talk. The truth was that I had to go to make MY plans work out. And with proms coming up she alone had 120 arrangements to make TODAY! She didn't need to be talking to me because SHE had her own plans.

But, obviously, God's plans for us were different. It was clear that she needed to be refreshed and I was glad to do it. And I needed to be reminded, as I shared about my kids with her, how wonderful my kids are. So as I glanced at my watch while I was fighting a sprint to my car I just asked God to allow me to make it home before the kids did because I SO wanted to have those balloons there for Kate to be surprised by.

The truth is - if I got home after they did it wouldn't matter a bit. BUT, I pulled into the subdivision and there were no children anywhere. I drove into my driveway, pulled into the garage, pulled out the balloons and tied them around the mailbox. I looked around and still, no kids. As I leaned against the mailbox I marveled that He even cared. I guess I knew He did or I wouldn't have even asked but what I do know is that He doesn't have to care. I also know that sometimes He doesn't work things out the way I'd like.

In the end I love knowing that I don't have to live this life all by myself. He loves me enough to let me get the balloons up before Kate got home. He loves me enough to let me go through a big hassle because I told someone something I shouldn't have even though it was meant with the best of intentions. He loves me enough to allow my daughter to die in order to show me how powerful He is in my life if I will let Him be. He loves me enough to adopt all of my children so I can rejoice in knowing that no matter what else He allows to happen in my life, we will all be together in eternity. For a woman who loves being wrapped up in security, I couldn't ask for a better deal.

46 Candles

2009-03-29T22:16:00.004-05:00

I turned 46 on March 1st. I really can't believe it. To be honest I am not sure how this happened. If I close my eyes I can remember how horrible I felt turning 20. I was no longer a teenager and couldn't fall back on that anymore to explain my immature behavior (although at that time I would never have admitted that I had any) but I wasn't 21 and therefore was still not old enough to be considered an adult.

Only 6 months after I turned 20 I got married. Seven years later I began having kids. Just last August MJF and I celebrated our 25th anniversary. And now, I'm 46. WOW. Thankfully I can say I've learned a lot. I've become a better wife, a better mom, a better woman, most importantly a better disciple of Christ. I've been thinking this week on some of those exact roles I just mentioned and how my behavior in those roles have changed over the years.

I've been, since adulthood, a very black and white person. I wouldn't describe myself as legalistic but I find security and comfort in rules and guidelines. I have no desire to be a leader but if forced to, I will acquiesce and become one (although that still seems like following to me). I dread disappointing anyone but I won't compromise the truth in any form to please anyone. And that last bit about me is what I've been reflecting on most this week. I've actually become more determined to hold firm to The Truth than ever before. I am not sure that can be said about most people as they age. Honestly, I can say, I understand that.

The more experiences that I have, the harder it is to remain so black and white about everything. I know many people that as they age, as their experiences take them from valleys to hilltops and back again, say that there is more gray but I don't agree. I believe that although gray exists I have to be careful that I don't mistake compassion and understanding and love for those that matter the most to me for lies (for lack of a better term). It's not that I would ever set out to lie to anyone about anything but there's a big difference between telling a friend that she doesn't look fat in a dress that she absolutely does look fat in and telling someone that her child is just a little "challenge" when he's got serious discipline problems and she needs to get to work on clearing those up.

Of course we all have to have earned a place in any relationship to offer truth up to anyone but then, maybe not. The older I get the more frantic I get when I realize that pastors and lay people alike are "taking their time" sharing the truth of what expectations there are of us as believers. We, for some reason, don't want to step on toes or turn someone against us or make someone upset or worse, we don't want them to go to another church. It's like throwing a life preserver to a drowning man but leaving the attached rope untouched so that although he floats and avoids drowning he's left to wander in the sea (as the sharks begin to circle) without help to reach solid ground. Whatever the reason this is dangerous territory that church leaders are treading on. The truth is that everyone wants to see people "saved" but for some reason few want to pull the line that's attached to the life preserver.

Few would argue with me that while building their child's first bike, it's best to read the instructions carefully. If something isn't put together in the way the manufacturer intended there is a good chance the child would be injured, in some cases, severely. In the same way, if we get all excited about a visitor "walking an isle" or someone we meet praying to receive Christ but fail to disciple that person honestly about changing their behavior to become more Christlike, we run the risk of allowing that person to believe they can come to Christ without repenting of sins that they might not even realize are sins at all. What's worse, as a church body, we run the risk of seeing our church become exactly what Paul was disgusted about in the church at Corinth. It seemed that he was the only one brave enough to be honest with the church body there. By the time he wrote his second letter and referring to his 3rd visit, he acknowledged that some who were living immoral lives had repented but that there were still some who were reluctant to do so. Why, I couldn't tell you but none of them could claim they were ignorant of God's expectations of them as believers. Paul told them that they could choose to do what was right and pleasing to God and he'd come in grace and peace. If they chose to rebel, he's going to arrive with a nightstick (Ok, so he didn't say nightstick - but you know what I mean). I find it hard to believe that Paul's threats weren't all Paul's idea. I am pretty sure that whether Paul shows up or not we are in trouble because God has his own nightstick. He won't let his church get mired in sin. One way or another He will cleanse the body.

That is why, for the most part, I am not bothered by people leaving our church. Some leave for pure logistics. They move to a new community and there is an excellent church that is far closer and participating in a community church is one reason why "there is a Baptist church on every corner". Others, for one reason or another, find something they don't like about what is currently going on. I have my own problems with that because your church should be your family and most of us wouldn't leave our blood family just because we didn't like what our sister wore to school or what poster our brother put up on the wall. Most wouldn't leave even if mom or dad created a rule or a requirement they didn't like. Most would stay because as long as Christ was honored they could adjust - after all - there were probably some things about them that their sister, brother, mom, or dad didn't like but put up with because they loved them. All that said, in the end it doesn't matter what I think. I have learned though that the grass is NEVER greener. But lastly, and mostly why I don't usually shed a tear over a church defection, is because there is a great chance that the defection is going to leave our church more pure. There's an element of spiritual immaturity that comes from defecting for reasons that are purely emotional and have no basis in scripture. It's not that I don't understand defection - we've done it - but we left a church, only once, for purely Biblical reasons - mostly because much of what was being preached was becoming more and more UNBiblical as each week progressed. We did confront the pastor in a mature and loving way but could make no headway, so we left. It was horrible, it was gut-wrenching and we fielded a lot of phone calls and let a lot of people down. But to not do that would have been sin on our part. I do understand being bummed about something here or something there but if we are praying for our church leaders and on our knees for our staff and pastor, shouldn't we be assuming with great confidence that the vision that is progressing is a Godly one? After all, God is the same yesterday, today, and forever but He certainly didn't perform in exactly the same way from one generation to the next. He used different people, different tasks, different approaches, all to reach the same goal... people recognizing who His Son was and to give their lives to glorify and honor Him. I find it amazing that people expect everything to stay the same in their church from year to year to year even they everyone around them is growing and changing and NOTHING else around them is staying the same. After all - stagnate anything breeds disease. We should all -regardless of age or history - be delighted to see our pastors and staff develop new ways to reach our communities for Christ. His truth doesn't change, it NEVER changes, but we do... constantly.

Which leads me back to being 46. I've never been more excited than I am now to see the man God is bringing to our church. We have been just under a year without a Senior Pastor and it's been harder than I had ever dreamed. I have been more disappointed in my fellow believers than I thought possible and disenchanted with the lack of trust, faith, and confidence that so many around me have displayed openly without hesitation. I have prayed for our Pastor Search Cmmt. I have prayed for the man that God wants for our church, therefore, I am assuming that should our cmmt follow God in His leading, the man that He blesses us with is exactly who we need to bring us through this time in our spiritual journey. Is he going to "move our cheese"? Absolutely, and I hope he does. It's his job to look at where we are and to encourage those who are doing a great job and to speak honestly to those who aren't. For anyone to expect less is only encouraging our church toward the Corinthian model. I want God to send us a Paul, nothing less will do.

So, although my life experience pulls me toward emotional responses, I must resist. Nothing good comes from that. I don't discount what I've experienced in anyway. Understanding people at their most vulnerable is important, but leading them down a path of destruction is unforgivable. Those of you who know me... know me... Those of you who don't, or have yet to spend quality time with me will be able to count on at least one thing. I will let you cry on my shoulder until the tears dry up and then I will tell you how to get yourself up off the couch and on toward living a life that is Christ honoring in spite of what brought the tears in the first place. Well, maybe I won't wait for the tears to dry up...

The Problem with pancakes...

2009-03-14T12:24:00.005-05:00

I have a love-hate relationship with pancakes. They are horribly inconsistent. Today we began our Spring Break period and I wanted to make breakfast, not pour it. All the boys wanted to do was eat Lucky Charms (rarely found in our pantry) but I made them eat pancakes. And whole wheat ones at that. The problem is the process never starts out right. I only had enough chocolate chips for two pancakes (OK, so the chocolate chips cancel out the whole wheat but after all it's spring break). I made the mistake of using up the chocolate chips in the first two pancakes which never turn out. That's all Kate wanted was chocolate chip pancakes. When she saw the burn on the bottom of the first two she shrugged her shoulders and settled for less.

I got to thinking about the book of James and the verses that talk about how we are not to be like waves tossed in the wind; inconsistent.

And so this much of the post has sat here for over two months...

So now, it's not spring break anymore but just days before the end of the school year. It makes my observations no less accurate. However, I suppose, being the person that I am, I began writing this out of frustration I was feeling about an other's behavior. Today, I write realizing that I am the one who needs to be reminded of consistency. The reality is that I struggle with the Sovereignty of God. Not does it exist but maybe it exists too much in my life.

How does that equate to consistency? For me, it's the basis of it. Resting completely in Christ's saving work and God's complete control over everything allows me to look at the unsaved world and be relatively unscathed. It's not that I'm not disappointed or discouraged or just plain bummed out -especially right now, but I'm not surprised. It's the believing world - or more particularly, those who claim to be believers, that absolutely throw me for a loop. After all, only God REALLY knows who are saved and who are not. I can look at the lives of some and question based on their behavior or what they hold dear or how they respond to situations, to be completely honest, that's a guess that I admit I make but isn't really mine to confirm. So since I don't hold the unbelieving world to standards that Christ is clear about they can't surprise me. But do I not have every right to hold brothers and sisters in Christ to standards that Christ Himself made clear?

And so to me, there's not much to get worked up about, really... because God's got it. It's short and sweet and not very intellectual (which is how I prefer to view the world most of the time) but it's true. So when I see people who claim to know and love Jesus to the depths of their being totally lose control over circumstances that they can only leave in God's hands... I come unglued, really, I do.

So why then did I spend the last 5 or 6 weeks behaving as if I suddenly had the responsibility to make sure everyone handled themselves correctly? Correctly, as in MY definition of the word. I wish I could say that's unlike me, it's not. I constantly have to fight the "30 minute sit com" syndrome. That is to say - I have just the right words for every situation and in a sweet 3o minute time slot, with my help and excellent guidance, every situation can be resolved to the approval of all involved. I am constantly reminding myself that I possess no such ability and most likely rarely have just the right words for anyone let alone everyone.

But I do have to say that for the most part, the last 6 weeks have been a struggle for me emotionally and spiritually. I want so much for God to SHOW me his plans for precious Megan and her family. I want to SEE that He's got something incredible that He's working on. That's a tough thing to admit since as the "queen of sovereignty" I'd like to keep those thoughts in the closet. I have struggled with some heavy "christian" hitters in my life lately doing and saying things that have totally thrown me for a loop and will forever change my view of them and to some degree "the church" as a whole. It's made me more determined than ever to dig deeper and deeper into the word and allow fewer people to influence my understanding of my walk in Christ. Actually, I am not sure that's a bad thing. The initial sting of it all was less like a bee and more like an ice pick but if the end result is spiritual maturity and growth in biblical knowledge then Rom. 8:28 won out again! Of course there is also the graduation from high school of my first born. I have been waiting for this day for 5 years. Tapping my watch semi-jokingly letting others know that I'm ready for this young man to move on. There are many reasons for that and I've been completely sincere in my desire to see him advance to another stage in his life. Except... now it's here and I am realizing that the day he gets an apartment and moves out is the day that I must realize that I could go days without hearing from him. College was the most fun part of my life and I am excited about this time for him too. I just didn't realize there would be so many tears that come along with that. I thought I was tougher than that. I'm having trouble admitting the truth of that as well.

So, instead of resting firmly in the arms of God, the thing I love to do and thought I did so well, I've been eaten up by one thing or another for 6 weeks. I finally realized that it was my own inconsistency that had me unglued this time. And I also realized why my first two pancakes never turn out - I have the heat up too high from the very beginning. Once it's too hot the cakes can't cook through without burning first. The key to a good pancake is to allow the pan to heat slowly and gradually so that the temperature is consistant throughout. I need to remember that for myself, too. When I rest in God's arms, I don't have to turn up any heat. My emotions don't rule my behavior only the truth that comes from His word. He IS sovereign so it's not my job - period. Like my good friend says "I have no dog in this hunt". It's my second favorite saying these days. Those who know Craig Brown will know my first! So, it's time to discover what hunt I am on and pursue that with a vengeance. I can leave myself out of everyone else's.

New Comment Settings

2009-03-10T08:57:00.003-05:00

I want to apologize to those of you who have wanted to post comments but weren't able to. I had a blog troller make comments several posts ago and I wanted to delete his post and ban him from posting. Unfortunately, by doing that, I somehow managed to keep everyone from commenting. I have changed the comment section to allow posts with the least amount of trouble but to run through my email for approval so that I have some control over the trollers. I am not trying to quash dissent, if there is any, but I am trying to keep people who spend their days googling topics so they can thrust their skewed opinions on us from posting a comment here.

Thanks for reading. Comment away! Have a great week!

Karen

Well done....

2009-03-09T20:14:00.008-05:00

Bob and Catherine are in my Lifegroup class. That's the new term for Sunday School. I guess there are too many negative connotations that go with Sunday School so they have changed the name. Good luck, it's still Sunday School to me. Ewww, I'm old now - I've just admitted I can't adjust. I've got to do something about that.

Anyway... I like Bob and Catherine. I got to know them before we were in Sunday sch.. er... Lifegroup together because their son and Josh are in 5th grade together and they are great friends. I figured that if their son was such a great kid, they must be pretty great as well. And they are. They are both engineers. I really didn't think that two math-types could co-exist but they do and they've done it well. Neither of them are big talkers. Everything they say in Lifegroup is well thought out and worthwhile. I don't think they talk to hear their own voices. I'm always enthusiastic when they begin to discuss something they uncovered from our assignments for the week. They are just great people and folks that you are so thrilled to have as part of your church family.

Well, last week, Bob's grandmother died. I'm glad for her. She was 90 and according to Bob, had a great life. I'm glad for her because of what Bob had to say about her. I am not sure that she lived a day of her life without Jesus as her Lord and Savior. Of course there were one or two days but I'm not sure that there were more than that. To hear Bob talk about her, and he had a lot to say, she was what Timothy's mother and grandmother were like as Paul described them in 2 Timothy 1:5. Paul talked about the faith he knew those influential women had in Timothy's life and how it was modeled and passed down to him. By they way Bob spoke of his grandmother, I am sure that most of his knowledge and trust in Christ was beautifully modeled by this woman.

When I talked to Catherine on Saturday she and I discussed what she thought the funeral would be like. I couldn't imagine that it would be anything less than a glorious celebration. Who could be sad on such a day? Of course those she left behind will miss her for all that she meant to them but think about what she left behind. The memories, the advice, the example... I can only imagine. I wonder what her entrance into Heaven was like for her. Knowing the woman Bob said she was, I will bet she fell flat on her face before her wonderful Savior and He gently picked her up to face Him and said "Well done, good and faithful servant." I hope that all those in her family who are sad about her passing will think of that and be glad, no, delighted in the knowledge that she is in the presence of the One she's been longing for since the day she became a new creation.

I long for Him too. More and more as each year goes by. Most of the time I long for Him when I think things are really going poorly. I don't mean in my personal life, I mean in the life of the church, in the life of the country, in the life of the world. But the way Bob talked about his grandmother made me rethink my longings. Of course we should all long for our Father in Heaven but I'm not sure that it should be something that we rush to verbalize. After all, I will bet Bob's grandmother showed her faith masterfully during the most dreadful of times. If she died at 90 in 2009 that means she was born in 1919. Only history class gives me some idea of what she lived through and how she lived through it. I am sure that her faith in her Creator and Redeemer held her fast when she wanted to give up. I am sure that her children and grandchildren saw her confidence in her Provider which led them to have confidence in Him as well. I want to be that woman to my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. I want my funeral to be a celebration. I do hope there are some tears, after all, there's no positive relationship that doesn't draw a tear when it's over, but I pray that it's a celebration too. I want everyone that loved me and that I loved to KNOW that being with my Father is where I ultimately want to be. But in the midst of the celebration, during the after-funeral gatherings, I hope everyone has a story to tell about my faithfulness to my Lord and Savior. I hope that all those that I loved will be able to point to at least one particular event in my life or a conversation that I had with them that led them into a deeper relationship with Christ.

Blood, sweat, and tears.

2009-03-05T21:45:00.007-06:00

I have been putting the finishing touches a women's Bible study I teach on Friday mornings. I am using Elizabeth George's Woman After God's Own Heart loosely as a guide. The chapters I am teaching on this week are about "making a home", and "watching over our home". In the middle of reviewing I became convicted about the clutter that was coming close to getting out of control. Michael has been away all week and will be home on Saturday. Knowing what I want the house to look like when he arrives, I knew if I didn't do even a little picking up it would get out of control and I'd spend my entire Saturday morning cleaning house before he arrives.

So, I started with our bathroom, picking up the things Kate got out while bathing in our big tub last night. I saw my shaver there and a memory flashed from long ago. You see, Kate came out of the bathroom, towel dried with her arm cut and bleeding. The fact that she didn't scream for me (girls plus blood equal screams) from the tub meant that she got cut doing something she thought I'd not approve of. It had to have hurt, I've sliced myself like that many times and it was really bleeding. She told me that she used "that thing that I use to shave my hair" on her arm and it cut her. I bandaged her up and explained what it was for, why it cut her, and when she most likely would choose to start using it. But, I told her, whenever she felt that she needed to shave, she needed to come to me and I'd show her how to use it.

My memory flashed to the day my cousin Barbara and I decided to start shaving our legs. Barbara and I are only 2 months apart in age. She was one of 5, the youngest child, who's dad was killed by a drunk driver when she was 5 and her oldest sibling was 12. Her mom, my dad's oldest sibling brought her family to our town where we lived within blocks of my dad's parents and his youngest sibling and her family. We cousins, there were 10 of us, would spend time together constantly. Even in school, the Andersons were together and occupied every grade and every school. As Barbara and I grew older we often watched, no stalked, her older sister Linda. We pretty much got our cues from her. I even chose to play the clarinet in band many years after we moved away because Linda played it. That's another blog post...

So the day came when we discovered that Linda shaved her legs. I can't remember the details, just that Barbara handed me a shaver and away we went. It wasn't long before Linda caught us and told us that we were too young. I didn't know why we were too young and don't remember if I even asked her why she thought that, I only knew that I wanted to appear to be "older" so I kept shaving my legs. It wasn't until my father started to complain to my mother that she was ruining his shavers by using them on her legs that my mom deduced the truth. She came to me and asked me if I was shaving my legs.

Honestly, the whole thing wasn't a big deal and she really didn't care, she just didn't want me to use dad's shaver anymore. She told me that it never dawned on her that she needed to talk to me about shaving my legs and told me that her mother never talked to her about anything and the first time she shaved her legs she thought she had to remove the whole top layer of skin in order to get rid of the hair. OUCH! Mom really never talked to me about much of anything. Her mother didn't and I guess she just thought I'd figure it out. Mom and I are great friends but I think about the things that she and I missed out on because she allowed me to discover them on my own.

That's not what I want for Kate. I want her to realize that if she wonders about anything she can come to me without me "freaking out". I have learned to pick my battles and am comfortable with the battles I've chosen to pick and those I've chosen to let go. Others may battle things that I wouldn't. It's OK because the Holy Spirit speaks to us in different ways and every family is different. I work hard to make sure Kate, and the boys, know that asking me about things doesn't indict them. And I work hard, sometimes REALLY hard, at masking any emotions that may make me appear less then confident. I want them to come to me, to us, for answers, opinions, even to vent. Of course, ultimately I want them to go to God's word for those things too but we are the first step in that process and my confidence in the answers I give from His word convince them of the confidence that they too can have there.

I want a relationship with Kate and my boys that far exceeds the one I have with my mom. I want it based on the foundation provided by God and it doesn't happen without a lot of work. Blood, sweat, and tears is an understatement but when we have the conversations that really matter because they wouldn't consider discussing those issues with anyone else - THAT's when it will all be worth it.

All the bells and whistles

2009-03-04T18:56:00.006-06:00

So, I'm reading Tim Challies blog (linked on this site to the left) and his latest post is talking about all the choices we have and if we really need all those choices in everything from food to cell phones. He made me think, a lot. And I had several flashbacks - almost like in the movies but with not as much make up.

I remembered an economics professor (remember now, I was in college before Reagan brought the Iron Curtain down) discussing the USSR. He talked about a young man who was able to escape to the United States only to feel like he was losing his mind just going into the grocery store. To his dismay, when he went to choose a can of beans he was completely befuddled. There were baked beans, green beans, french cut green beans, waxed yellow beans, kidney beans, pinto beans, on and on they went. There was an entire section in the store with hundreds of canned beans. He left in tears because he wasn't capable of making that decision. Whew, I was floored. I had never known a time in life when I wasn't able to make a decision. Not all my decisions were good ones (mom finally had to give me only three choices of outfits daily because left to myself, I'd have not made good clothing choices)but because I was raised with the practice of decision making daily and parents who had the presence of mind to teach me how to make good decisions, I usually did pretty well. And most of the time, when I didn't, I knew full well that they weren't good decisions but did them anyway...

Another flashback reminded me of a huge revelation I had in my life when I was only 30. I say only because I am far from that now. Michael and I owned our first house. It was modest but in some ways not so much when you considered others in the same age category. He made pretty good money and we got a good deal on the house. We weren't living above our means but we did have debt and I was thinking that it'd be a good idea to get rid of it. I didn't know how to go about that. (I'd never heard of Dave Ramsey at that point, actually he was probably neck deep in debt at that time anyway). I found myself at my friend Ginger's house. She lived down the street from me and her house was more modest than mine, she and her husband were older than Michael and I, and they had their house furnished much more sparingly than we did. Until that day, I sort of felt bad for them. But on that day, she revealed (I'm convinced led by the Holy Spirit just for my benefit) what their mortgage payment was and that they were debt free. I felt like I was hit in the head with a baseball bat. I looked around at her house. Sure, I thought that mine, overall was prettier, maybe "fancier", maybe more "decorator-looking" but it served them well. They had plenty of room, they lived in the same nice subdivision we did AND they knew exactly how much money on any given day they had to spend if they wanted to go out to dinner. They had money in a savings account to take a vacation - actually 3 if they wanted to. It dawned on me that maybe, less IS more!

Then I thought about my sister-in-law and a conversation she and I had several years ago when she was building her house. She and my brother-in-law were building quite a nice house, on a beautiful lot and to be honest, they could have purchased the highest end appliances that they desired. Although I assumed money was no object to them, in their minds, it probably was, maybe a little. But she is reasonable and she knows where their money comes from and to her, being stewardly was and still is important regardless of how much money is in her bank account. So she told me that she chose one refrigerator over another because the price difference was astronomical and because the cheaper one looked the same, performed the same, it just didn't have all the bells and whistles and to be honest, she didn't need the bells and whistles.

I just got off of the Sears.com site. Do you know you can save 500 dollars just choosing a decent stainless dishwasher over a top of the line maxed out dishwasher? I had no idea you could spend over 1000 dollars on a dishwasher period. Of course, stewardship includes buying wisely, not all brands are equal, but you know what I am getting at. Why do we buy what we do? And should we not look at our purchases more wisely?

I say this because if I had budgeted 1000 dollars for a dishwasher and chose to be more reasonable and bought one for 500 dollars, I could give that extra to the church building fund, to an organization like Samaritan's Purse, or to a youth in my church trying to afford to take a mission trip to Peru. (More on that later since that is where Drew is headed in June) The point is that these times are hard times and hard times call for us to examine ourselves. What or Who are we living for? It's wonderful to drive a nice new car but if you had one that was used and performed just as well but cut your payments in half, wouldn't it be worth it to do that if by tithing the left over you provided space for 5 more babies in the nursery? Or if sending that boy to Peru meant confirming his call to missions which over his lifetime meant he had the chance to lead hundreds to Christ? What if being committed to a building program instead of Ruth's Chris's on a regular basis meant expansion of the worship center which allowed for hundred's of family's who wanted to hear the pure word of God preached to sit comfortably and grow in their Christian walk?

I went last weekend to a thrift store in Alabama with a friend who's husband makes more money in a week then we see in months. She is a thrift store freak. She is always dressed beautifully and looks like she stepped off of a magazine cover. The other day - she found a black sequined gown for a formal gathering she had to attend, at a thrift store, for 15 bucks. I can tell you that the extra couple hundred she could have paid went to sending someone on a mission trip.

I guess our emphasis on tithing last Sunday has me focused on how we, Michael and I, and we, the body of Christ view our money, our possessions, and our talents. I guess I am remembering that they come from our Heavenly Father and I know so much about Him that my life is different than it was 25 years ago when I first met Him. And most of my growth has come from church or Bible Studies attended at church. I want that for a whole lot of other people. But if I think that having all the bells and whistles, the best of everything, the most state-of-the-art electronic device is the most important thing then I am going to have to come to terms with the fact that I may not hear God say the one thing to me that I long to hear Him say. That is "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

Can't afford NOT to tithe...

2009-03-01T21:43:00.009-06:00

Please forgive me for not writing recently. It's been a hectic week and I've been scattered. My brain that is, not so much my house. Actually, it's been a blessing the way my house has been in order (thanks to the refi and flylady). It's funny how keeping my house in order has made my kids want to help make sure it stays that way. I think that they have found the peace that comes from an uncluttered home, bedroom, kitchen, etc. and aren't willing to cause it to return to chaos. It's been an interesting lesson in being an example. I haven't added anything to my occasional rants of "pick up your closet", or "make your bed", or "put those (add whatever is to your liking) away". And yet, just the other day the two little kids came to me and asked if they could clean their bathroom. Since that is their job anyway, I was delighted they WANTED to do that. Then they took my "control journal" (flybabies will understand what I mean) and looked up my routines for that day and started DOING MY JOBS! After I picked myself up off the hard, cold, tile floor, I gazed through my glassy eyes as they maneuvered around the furniture with the vacuum and swiffer duster. If only time could have been frozen.

Fast forward to tonight. In church tonight we celebrated a 95% success rate at the end of our capital (more like debt reduction) campaign at church. That is often unheard of and it deserved a celebration. But much was said about what our responsibilities are. I was aghast to find out that 57% of our congregation tithes nothing or what would be acceptable for poverty level giving. We aren't even close to being a poverty level congregation. And less than 20% of the congregation give more than 80% of the money to the church. As a deacon, Michael knew these figures and to say he was disappointed is an understatement.

We have been tithers almost from the beginning of our Christian walk. We understood quickly that everything we have is God's and He asks for almost nothing in return. Ultimately, how can we expect to be blessed when we don't obey? Of course, there are other areas of obedience but He asks for obedience in all areas of our walk. I have found it interesting that we are so secure in our eternal life, confidently believing that God's promise of heaven is ours because He says so when we commit our lives to Christ and accept Him as our Lord and Savior. That is HUGE! That is FOREVER we are talking about - that is the difference between heaven and hell. BUT we are soooo not believing that He really means what He says about our finances when we obey Him regarding tithes and offerings. I can't get my mind around that at all.

But as I wrestled with the figures I was hearing I looked over at the youth section, curious at how many of them were really listening. They needed to be because our biggest problem right now are the young marrieds that "just can't afford to tithe". (And it won't be long before the youth of today are the young marrieds of tomorrow.) That terrifies me. If they don't trust Him with their money how can they REALLY be trusting Him with their eternal life?

So, do my 18 and 15 year olds get this? They know we are faithful tithers and understand that we have parachurch organizations that we also give to monthly. We also support 3 little girls from different organizations overseas. But do they get how all this fits into their life? I am not sure. What I do know is they see us put that money into the plate every week. They are old enough to understand the figures being presented and have lived long enough to see their parent's commitment to tithing and more. They have their own envelopes and I remind them weekly to bring their tithes with them. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't but ultimately they have to choose to obey because the Holy Spirit convicts them not because their parents did it.

Here I would like to add that Megan was able to be released from the hospital in time to leave today for her Disney trip. Please pray that she stays well this week in order to enjoy fully her time there and that her time with her brothers and daddy are precious memories for them all.
Thanks for your prayers for her.

I just have to rest.

2009-02-24T20:40:00.005-06:00

I've been in the tanning bed two weeks on and off, now. I love feeling the heat from the lights beating down on me. It feels like the sun, unless I'm in tanning bed room 2. It feels like a stuffy, warm overcast day. That's not what I go in there for. I barely go in there for a tan, mostly I want to feel that feeling... the sun beating down on me. And usually, as the title of my blog suggests, I have a great time of prayer. Just me and God closed up in that machine. Except today, it's not surprising I ended up in room 2. Megan is on my mind. She is always on my mind. And the latest update isn't encouraging. I'm officially at the place of begging God for mercy. I'm not sure who I want to see God have mercy on more, her, her daddy, or her brothers. There are more people of course who could benefit from a little bit of God's mercy but I don't know them and to be honest, they aren't on the top of my list.

I tried to pray for other people. I really tried to pray for my kids. Each of them have their own struggles, hopes, visions, but to know avail. Megan is all I can think about. And because of that I feel frozen. Maybe I'd have felt better if I'd been in bed 3. I'd have felt that heat that makes me think the sun is going to bore a hole through my stomach but today it was just a stuffy heat. It seemed to go on forever too. I thought that the girl up front didn't set the timer right. My mind was racing with petitions for Megan all the while wondering if I was secretly frying. Just as I was about to open the bed it cut off. In spite of my frantic concern I still felt that cold let down that comes with the lights turning off.

I am glad that I am well aware of how finite my mind is, especially compared to the infinite mind of God. I have to dwell on that otherwise I'd dwell on the fact that the more I pray, the more people that I get to join me in prayer, the worse the reports of Megan's illness is. I have to rest in the knowledge that God is my creator, Megan's creator too. Nothing is happening to Megan that He isn't well aware of. He was aware of all this before the beginning of time. I can't fathom that, I don't need to. I just need to rest. Rest in the knowledge that He controls everything. Rest in the knowledge that obedience is my job. I'm not responsible for her healing, He is. I'm not responsible for anything but being obedient to Him. Then I just wait to see how He chooses to use that obedience.

So for now, in my frustration, my disappointment, my confusion, I must press on in prayer knowing with confidence that My Lord, My Savior, My Provider, My Healer is the same Lord, Savior, Provider and Healer to Megan, her daddy, and her brothers. He will do what He will do and in the end we will praise His name because He is worthy.

Please join me in prayer for Megan. Her trip to Disney World is supposed to take place beginning this weekend (2/28) but she is still in the hospital with pain, fever, and extremely low cell counts. We are asking God's mercy on her, that she'll be released Wednesday and able to leave this weekend for her trip. Thanks in advance for your petitions.

What is fun?

2009-02-20T17:43:00.005-06:00

I really like Facebook. I'm a bit surprised how much I like it but it's great to keep up with friends especially the ones that I don't get to see very often. I love looking at the pictures that my friends post of their kids. It's wonderful to see how their families have grown. I'm happy for them. After all the work they've put into their families, that their almost adult children are still bringing them pleasure and excitement for the adventure that is their future, makes me realize the worth of all the hard work and prayer. Some of my friends have become grandparents already - YIKES! It is fun to see them with their grand babies and more fun to see what they have decided to be called. Gone are the days of Gramma and Grampa. I wonder who I will end up being.

What I don't like about Facebook is how many times I've felt like almost everyone is having more fun than I am. I have almost always thought that everyone else's family has more fun than our family. I think son #2 feels the same. I don't know what makes one family more fun than another. I don't know what makes a family more cool than another either. I don't think we are unreasonable parents and I try to be as welcoming as I can be. Maybe I don't have enough junk food. Maybe the house isn't big enough. I don't know. Maybe it's the moving. We just haven't established relationships with our children's friends and therefore have very few really close relationships with them. Maybe that will change the longer we are here. I hope so.

But I really wonder if my feelings of inadequacy in the area of fun will ever change. I'm really not bothered by much but I am bothered by this. Maybe I've let my kids get under my skin. I don't know. All I know is that I want to be more fun. Maybe I need to figure out the definition of fun first. I am not sure what that is. Anyone that's read my 25 Random things will know that I don't use the word fun very much. The definition of that word is not very broad to me and there aren't many things that I think are fun. Maybe that is the foundation of my problem. Maybe I'm too serious. Michael accused me of that years ago, many years ago. I guess I've not fixed the problem still.

Looking back on my childhood though, I'm not sure I had a lot of fun. I have a tremendous amount of adventure and experiences. To be honest, it wasn't an easy life but I'd only give up the poor decisions I made as a teenager. Most of my upbringing helped mold me and led me to the place that I am today and for the most part (except for fat thighs) I'm pretty happy with me.

So maybe I need to keep my eyes open for how to be more fun. I definitely think choosing Buffalo Wild Wings over Arbys is more fun (sorry boys but I had nothing to do with that decision). So, being that I recognize this gives me hope.

I rarely see the fun in things. I see implications, consequences, situations... I need to spin fun. That will be my challenge. I think I am going to work at that seriously - no, bad choice of words... I'm going to work hard at seeing the fun in what goes on in this house. I'll let you know what I come up with. Pray for me - pray for my kids. Who'd have thought that having fun would be such a hard thing...

Refi Reveal

2009-02-16T19:15:00.003-06:00

So we have been going out of our minds working to get everything we've ever wanted to do to our house done. We've done months worth of work in 5 days. There were breaks for church, school activities, basketball games, and of course, Valentine's Day. But none of those breaks were rest for me because I just spent my time thinking about what I needed to do. I really couldn't enjoy myself and that's not a good thing - ever.

We've been working like this because we are refinancing the house. It's a good deal for us but we didn't really have a huge interest rate to begin with. The only problem is that appraisals aren't what they used to be. The appraiser made it very clear what he was going to look for and that it wasn't going to be any different than an appraisal for a house that was going on the market next week. UGH! It's not that we have a problem with that... well, we do have a problem with that, after all, it's not like we are putting our house on the market next week. Actually, we are hoping that God would see us as permanent residents here just as we do. We don't see ourselves moving any time soon (I've said that before...). So we felt like we should just dive head first into everything and just finish it all now.

I have been painting for days on end. I love to paint - rooms that is. I will leave the artistic stuff to my friend Molly and my mom. But I am officially sick of it. One day I was painting over the marks left by the two bathroom mirrors that Michael ripped - literally - off the wall. There was much patching and sanding that evening and after hours of drying the wall could be painted in preparation for two beautiful framed mirrors just perfect for the room. I thought about that appraiser and all that he was going to be looking for. It's not like he's going to ask us to take those mirrors down to prove that the wall is in perfect condition behind the mirrors. Actually, he's going to assume that wall is perfect because it looks so good from in front of the mirror. The truth is that the wall is fine but even with two coats of paint you can still see the nine places where the drywall had to be fixed.

Those marks on the wall can be hidden from anyone who looks at the finished room. But we know the truth. Behind the beautiful mirrors now hanging above the sinks are walls with permanent damage. I wondered how many times I appeared like that to people. The reality is that I am very good at being "beautiful". Not beautiful as you and I may define it but "beautiful" in the sense that no one would know if there was anything "ugly" going on in my life.

No matter how hard anyone tries though, God knows. We can't hide it from Him. Just as Michael and I know the truth behind the mirrors, God knows the truth behind our smiles. It's rare that I have days like that. I've lived long enough that I put just about everything into perspective and rarely let things so alter my state of being that I have to fake a smile. But I know a lot of people who do. It's a sad thing. Either they don't feel secure enough in any of their relationships to let someone in, or they don't believe God knows their heart. Either way it's a tough road to walk. We can only hide our true selves for so long. Eventually God will reveal the truth to those around us. It's our job to not let it get to that point.

The Coach

2009-02-15T16:44:00.003-06:00

Today was an interesting day at church. To say I was tired is an understatement. I have got to set some kind of rule for myself regarding when I go to bed on Saturday nights. Being that tired just isn't fair to my family or to God. Consequently, I was almost unconscious for most of the service. I sort of felt "dreamy". At one point, our worship pastor was introducing a song and telling us, the congregation, that this was our time to lay ourselves at God's feet. To come to the alter to pray. And only a few notes into his song, people came. It was a wonderful thing to see my brothers and sisters in Christ make themselves vulnerable. Some of them I knew well and I knew exactly what they were beseeching God for. A husband went forward and hit his knees. I was almost in tears as I watched his wife come after him, almost running to embrace him while he prayed. I prayed for them, hoping that he was asking God to build their marriage into what it was "before". Then the teenager came. He was a tall, extremely handsome young man. I only know him to see him. Not much about his family but the youth group had just returned from a retreat, I was hoping he was laying himself before the Lord, committing all he is to Him. Then she came, the girl who finds herself at the alter every time it's "open". The girl who goes down front to "recommit" her life every time it's suggested. I want to run to her and put my arms around her and ask her who in her life is making her feel so insecure. The young daughter of a friend of mine rushes to her mother's side at the alter. It's the most precious thing I've ever seen. She may not even know what her mom is praying about but she knows that her mother needs someone to stand with her, to lift her prayers to heaven with her. I feel my eyes begin to well up at this point... except... my eyes are drawn to strong, powerful hands raised to the sky in the front row.

It's the coach. To be honest, I don't know this man at all. But the incredible thing is, I don't have to. Everyone knows his booming voice. Everyone knows when he's in the building. A believer on the other side of the world would recognize him as a brother in Christ just by the look on his face. Even if he's not smiling, the joy of the Lord flows from his eyes.

I have a great friend who's the pastor's secretary. I was in her office one day when the coach came in to say hello. Being there for the 10 minutes he visited was one of the best days of my life; hands down. He quoted scripture with such authority and confidence. He laughed as he shared about a discussion with a total stranger and marveled at how the Holy Spirit could lead even him to someone who needed to hear the Word of God. He loves being a child of God and you could tell that his entire being constantly praised Him. I even wonder if his blood cells cried out praises to God.

He left as joyously as he came in. The coach, according to my friend, was going through some struggles. Some things were going on at the school he coached at and it's not been easy on him. She didn't go into detail. I was floored. HE? THAT GUY? The COACH was having some serious issues? "You have got to be kidding?" I said. She smiled, she knows him far better than I. Apparently that's his "blue" demeanor.

What a challenge that man is to me. As I watched from across the sanctuary I saw a man who raised his hands to the Lord with such all-encompassing love and devotion that I wasn't sure if he was raising his hands or wrapping them around his Savior's neck. My tears and sadness for those at the alter almost immediately dried up. The coach had me laughing under my breath. Had I not caught myself, I'd have laughed out loud. I suddenly looked at those people at the alter and realized that all of them, regardless of what they were beseeching God for, if they truly understood who God is, would soon be sitting with the coach on the front row lifting their hands high to their Holy, Heavenly Father. They too would realize that in spite of their heavy hearts, their Father was right there with them lightening their load.