Exodus 33:15

It was 12 years ago this month that we were packing up our house in Brandon, MS to move to Jacksonville, AL. I can't deny it. I was pumped. I didn't love Mississippi. I don't know why... well, let's just say I didn't know why. Now I could give you two handfuls of reasons why I didn't love it all those years ago but even then, I knew, something may not have been right about moving.

I had spent the previous 6 months praying about it. At some point I ran across Exodus 33:15 and it hit me like a ton of bricks...

Then Moses said to him, "If your presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here."

It is unlike me to not want to go on and on about why Moses said what he did... read it. It's beautiful.

That's exactly why I chose to pray those words as well.

I didn't care for Mississippi but I did love our church and I loved our friends and the thought of leaving them made me sad.

But...

Sam, Josh, Drew... shortly before we moved away

I had left friends before. I had left friends all my life. I was a professional at leaving friends.

The Gman had a fantastic job opportunity and I just didn't think we could pass it up. I had decided many years before that I would not ever be the reason the Gman accepted or turned down a job. I'd much rather have to learn to love a place I didn't particularly like than feel a sense of resentment from the man I was planning on spending my whole life with.

Still... I had small doubts about how I was praying about moving, why I was praying about moving...

So, I thought, I will pray this. I will pray this because I believed it. I wanted it. I didn't care what the outcome of praying it would be, I wanted only that God go before us. If I didn't know that He walked ahead of us, leading us, I couldn't go with any confidence.

It didn't take very long before all of our hopes for our AL move panned out and we were saying our goodbyes. Goodbyes to some of the most important people we'd had the privilege to share life with.

Literally our last stop before driving out of town.
One last picture with our favorite people in the world
Randy and Faye Cress

I hadn't thought about that move in so long. Kate had yet to be born - we had put more babies long out of our minds. Elli wasn't even on the radar - I am not sure we ever thought about adoption for our family since the couple of years early in our marriage when we were unsure we'd be able to have children.

Then, very early this morning, when I should have been sound asleep, I heard  Without you by Shane and Shane.

Album Cover of the Shane and Shane Album
The One You Need

All the memories of that move flooded back.

It's the flood, something that is usually synonymous with danger, death, and damage that in my case is just the opposite.

I moved excitedly to Alabama. We were in a little quaint town. We didn't have a Colonial Heights Baptist Church there but we did find a sweet fellowship and dove right in. We decided to build our first house and I found out I was pregnant, very unexpectedly... it was an exciting time.

And Then...

The towers were hit. I was left alone with 3 boys, homeschooling, unpacking a brand new home, vomiting with a 5th pregnancy. Feeling quite old and very tired and without many friends.

I began to tear up, then I began to cry, and then the floodgates opened and I began to weep. I began to weep for what I had walked away from, what I had so selfishly left behind. Before we had been gone for 3 months, I was begging God's forgiveness. Begging God to somehow, someway, send us back.

We had made a big mistake and we needed to go back...

It would take over 8 years, two states, and some really difficult times before one night, at the dinner table, in front of my children, I began to weep again as I saw the Gman walk into the kitchen from a phone call he received from Headquarters. The smile on his face spoke volumes and I could not hold back. I cried so profusely that my kids thought a close relative had died. Eight years of begging, hoping, praying and here it was, the day that I had waited for. I was going home.

I never had a home. As a child I moved every 2 years give or take 6 months until I graduated from High School. Then I married before I finished college and moved colleges. Then proceeded to marry a man who determined to move me every 2 to 4 years.

I realized that day, that I had a home. Home really is where the heart is and my heart was in Mississippi. A strange place for a girl who spent the first 20 years of her life above the Mason-Dixon.

The reality was though, that it wasn't the place I was going back to, it was the people. My family was there, my brothers and sisters in Christ that I so dearly treasured. Randy and Faye Cress who we so loved that we combined their first names into Kate's middle name Raye.

I remembered the first day we drove to church. The day we were going to go forward at the end of service to join - re join - the church we yearned 8 years to return to. My stomach was fluttering and my composure was tenuous at best. But it was a feeling I promised myself I'd not forget.

I didn't. Just yesterday, as I drove onto the church property, I remembered that first day back, all over again. I felt those same flutters and smiled to myself.

Do I think it was a mistake to leave? Did God really go before us?

I don't know but yes He did. I know He did because I don't believe, on our own, we would have followed the difficult path necessary that led us right back here... right back home.

There's no place like home.

Reflections of a 50 year old (part Two)

It's 4:22am.  Not untypical to be sitting in the kitchen at this hour having not slept at all. One can lay in bed staring at the ceiling trying to solve the world's problems only so long before one must move on. For this "one" it's popping in the headphones and putting on a podcast hoping to be lulled to sleep hearing scripture or some phenomenal preaching from the Word of God.

I don't lay in bed thinking that much anymore. At my age there's too much to mull over. Too many losses and not enough victories for me these days. When the kids were younger victories consisted of one child getting more food in his mouth than on the floor. Another child successfully reading a page in her assigned textbook. A third merely toddle-ling through the day without breaking an older child's Lego creation. Back then, I could lay in bed for, well, minutes thinking of victory after victory after victory while drifting off to sleep and sleep well.

These days I'm not remotely as physically exhausted as I was then. I have even been known to tell younger mothers who are not looking forward to the teen and above years how much better it is when you are not so tired all the time, when you can communicate with your kids at a much more mature level, when you can have expectations of them and hold them to those expectations because you are no longer worried about their level of understanding. I've been known to mention how much I adore moving away bit by bit from parent to friend. I am pretty sure I still believe almost all of it.

I have been known to say those things 2 years ago. Two years before my oldest son moved out and far away with the US Air Force. Two years before my second son moved out, not far, but out none-the-less, taking college classes and working almost full time. Two years before my third son's musical talent and desire to serve God professionally became too obvious to deny, and our responsibility regarding that became too large to ignore. Two years before my youngest child, our only living daughter, spoke to the Lord about adopting a little sister. Two years before I flew with part of my family to China to bring home the daughter I didn't know, two years ago, I had and was desperately missing. A daughter that has sent me back to sections of our church building that I'd long ago said good bye to.

Now, I lay awake at night wondering about the decisions my two oldest are making. Wondering if they fully understand that each decision they make will have some sort of impact on their future and maybe even the future of our entire family. Knowing that I've spoken those exact words to them many times and hoping desperately that they hear those words like a clanging gong in their ears with each step they take.

I lay awake knowing that they know the Word of God. That they know life as a believer, the implications, the peace, the refuge... the struggle. I lay awake knowing that at any point in their morning, noon, or night that struggle might become too hard. I pray that God will put His hedges around them, that He will speak powerful words into their heads, that the Holy Spirit will remind them of the power they have in Him. I pray they aren't too exhausted from the struggle to hear.

I lay awake and plan my strategy in case.

Finally, tonight, I reached for my earphones wisely attached hours ago to my phone. I shoved the phone deep under the covers and looked at my podcast options. Al Mohler... I have come to adore listening to him. I listened for over an hour to "The Briefing". His daily 20 minute podcast that sums up the events of the day with a Christian worldview.

Upon realizing that I'd gotten up to date on all of those and I was still wide awake I figured I'd take a stab at listening to his other podcast called "Thinking in Public". These are usually interviews with well-known (to him anyway) authors from various venues speaking about issues that should be on the radar of anyone with a serious Christian worldview.

Tonight's choice? "Economics as a Moral Enterprise" the author? Arthur Brooks.

I had no idea that right there, in my bed, at 3ish am, questions, concerns, conundrums, oh so many things, would all come together for me during the hour that I listened to their discussion. Suddenly I heard this man articulate exactly why I have not been able, in 20 years, to understand "the left" and why they do and say and think as they do.

You cannot understand how desperate I've been to realize this. I have carried a weight of incredulity on my shoulders, more correctly, in my gut, for what has seemed like forever. I have carried these feelings because I have refused to believe that "they" could really believe what they believe. No matter what I read, who I listened to, what I watched, I found no answers. To be honest, I have felt more despair this week - in 4 days - than I've felt ever, regarding the future of our country.

You might think coming from a Christian, that is impossible. I know Who the REAL leader is. Yes, of course I do. I also believe that this country I live in, that I love, was a gift from God. I also believe we have squandered this gift, we have taken it for granted, we have forgotten what it took to embrace this gift, and we have refused to acknowledge Who gave the gift. However, we still assume the gift will be ours to enjoy regardless. It is because of these latter things that I believe God's hand is no longer on our once great nation. The second half of Romans 1 has me convinced of that. And yes, sometimes I'd lay awake at night and wonder what the future will hold for my kids.

As I listened to this interview I was stunned at the kinds of things Mr. Brooks had to say. It began to make sense to me, why I always thought economics was so important, why I was always intrigued by it's implications, why I never thought it was about money and numbers but about a philosophy and way of life. Then he, Mr. Brooks, quoted Bach... he said he plays music "for the good of man and the glory of God". Can we "do economics" for the good of man and the glory of God? Absolutely!

 Specifically, the Free Market Economic System, is the ONLY economic system that would allow for this. The very system that we have embraced... until now.

The whole while Mr. Brooks demonstrated how morality is the foundation of all of economics and without it nothing can flourish.

MORALITY...

That ideal we conservatives throw out into the crowd every chance we get and the one thing that hangs us every time because so many of us really don't want to live our lives that way. It doesn't hang the liberals because they rarely, if ever, have discussed morality as a foundation for anything.

Yet, Mr. Brooks makes it very clear that the only way our country or any country can flourish at all - and the only flourishing is economic in nature - is when it's Free Market and when it's all based on morality.

Some of you are reading this, pulling your hair out, thinking that I need to give it a rest, let it go, move on. But I can't. Some of you don't remember the Reagan years, or you are letting others tell you what it was like. Some of you didn't retain or weren't taught in the first place all that was sacrificed for the creation of this country. Some of you haven't lived long enough to realize how much things have changed.

I'm 50 now. Half a century old. I hate to admit it but I'm old enough to have seen the changes. I'm old enough to wonder of myself what I, as a little girl, wondered about my Nan... "what must she think about how the world has changed in her lifetime." Foolish me, I only ever wondered and never remember asking.

Morality....

In some ways, that is exactly what makes the Christian life so uncomplicated. The decisions we are freed from making because right is right and wrong is wrong and other people matter more than we ourselves.

I think again about Sons 1 and 2 and I wonder what the basis for their morality is? I'd like to believe it's what we, the Gman and I, raised them to understand it to be. Based on the Word of God, to make their burden light, to enable them to grow old with few mistakes and disappointments.

To be honest, today, that word is offensive just like every other word that people want to avoid because it's too difficult to face.

They'd say it's easier for me. I'd say it's not, I've just had more practice.

I received few answers tonight for all that staring at the ceiling, thankfully though, I gained a realization. I learned something really important about me. I learned something more important about "them". I've unloaded a lot in the last three hours or so. It doesn't change the reality of things. I don't feel any better about our country or it's future. I do know, however, that I'll be changing how I speak of things to my children, how I will encourage them to progress toward their future.

I realize now, more than ever, that I, their parent, am the only one (along with their father) that can illuminate truth to our children.

I realize, now more than ever, that truth has to be more than just verses of scripture or stories of great men and women of the Bible. That truth has to encompass their entire perspective of the world, how it works, where it's headed. They need to know how to live "for the good of man and the glory of God".

I foresee more long nights, staring at the ceiling, praying for the right words at the right times to impart more fully what it means to live our lives for Christ. To live in this world to bring Him glory. Then, how to break the news to them that for most of their lives it's gonna feel like an uphill battle, that they are going to want to give up, that they will be lucky if they are even encouraged by the church in their endeavor. How do I let them know that one day they too will be 50 years old. Who knows what they will be writing their blogs on at that point in the technological future?

 How do I tell them that I want their blogs to say so much more than mine? 

How do I convince them that when they are 50 they won't care what the world thinks of them, what the country thinks of them, what the city thinks of them but when they sit down at the dinner table and hold the hands of their wives and children, when they bow their heads to pray, they will care only what He and those who belong to the hands they hold think of them.

If they can understand that, if they can embrace that sooner rather than later...

THAT is what will make their blogs so much more victorious than mine. 

Reflections of a 50 year old (part 1)

I dreaded this. You have no idea - really you don't. I don't know that there was ever a person who dreaded turning 50 more than me. Well, maybe a movie star here or there who like me felt that her best days were behind her and there'd be little left of her life to really enjoy.

I don't feel like there's little life left for me to enjoy. I do feel like I won't recognize it when I see it. I wonder if I've ever really enjoyed my life. I question that because as I reflect my memories are rarely happy ones. I remember disappointing people, disappointing myself, failing to see great things for what they were and therefore missing out on something wonderful. I think back to times when I should have been frivolous just for the sake of making memories but allowed myself to be held back by someone or something. I dwell constantly on whether I made choices because they were the best for me (or so I thought) at the time or whether I really believed they were the best for everyone else.

I know I have missed out on a lot. I know it because I haven't used the word fun to describe anything about my daily existence in so many years I cannot remember actually saying "That was fun"

It's possible that my definition is just too severe. I know that I have vastly different definitions of certain words than most do. Usually I attribute that to my complete faith in the sovereign will of God. A word like "crisis" for example, used to describe everything from imminent war to Obama's hangnail in the media these days, has a completely different meaning to me. My definition is far closer to the actual one. I may have thought I had a crisis twice in my life. One of those was when we discovered our daughter was going to die at birth. Even then, looking back, I'm not sure I saw that as a true crisis. After all, it wasn't like God wasn't in control. Honestly, if one really believes in the depth of her being that God really is in control is anything a crisis?

That my friends, is the root of my problem. I realized something about myself almost 16 years ago now and I have found that it's negatively affected every aspect of my life. However, it's part of who I am and I cannot disown it, disavow it, or discharge it.

I am.... The Queen of Sovereignty.

You've never heard of that position before? Well, if it's ever been held by anyone in the past, they have probably worked very hard to keep it a secret. I am not sure I share the title with anyone these days, but I may. They, obviously, have chosen to hide it themselves. Or, if they were lucky, they were able to discard it before it took hold too deeply in their being.

Of course I have coined that title myself. It may be known by another name.

This title comes with quite a bit of inheritance. You'd think knowing that, I'd be psyched about it. After all, who doesn't want an inheritance? How many of you have ever thought of an inheritance as being a burden?

Thanks to my pedigree, I am a Calvinist. There is no other option. I don't mind being a Calvinist. Actually I don't ever battle with myself over that issue. This is one part, maybe the only part, that I don't feel is a burden to me but it is a great burden to most of my friends. Being a Calvinist in a Southern Baptist Church is difficult at best. I have found that there are just some conversations I cannot have, with anyone, it's sorta sad.

I lack appropriate compassion. Well, maybe I don't. I probably really have more than appropriate compassion, my brain just gets in the way of knowing how to express it. I have had this problem for a long time. I want to say, for all of my adult life. I think that is so because I have been a believer for my entire adult life and once I trusted my salvation to God, I assumed I could completely trust everything else to Him to. I think this is why my definition of crisis is so extreme. If God is in control, if I really trust Him in the midst of every circumstance, if I believe that He has allowed something good or bad into my life... then why should I fret? Why should I fall apart? Why should I handle any of it in a negative way?

Well, because I am human, because things are sad, because tragedies call for tears, they call for sadness, they call for aching hearts that can't be soothed - at least for awhile. But see, that's just the point... that is my burden... I can see that for so many, I can't allow it for myself.

But here's the rub. It's not because I think I am better than anyone that has fallen apart when tragedy strikes. It would be like me thinking I'm better because you drink out of a water fountain with your mouth and I use my nose. It's pure idiocy. It's my burden because I cannot overcome what I know is inappropriate for that which is appropriate. My brain has the key to my heart and it's not unlocking it anytime soon. That's also why I struggle with empathizing. It's not that I don't feel your pain, understand your grief, or desperately want to hold you while you cry. I am there, right there with you, I really am. But when it's time I want to say something profound, something I am sure will make all the difference in how you perceive your circumstances. I want to say to you what my brain says to me when I am in a place of hurt.

And every time I open my mouth I stop the words. I stop them because they aren't words that will help. They are truth, yes. They aren't words that will help. There are no words that will help. I know that. So I freeze. I either just stare at you, or I ask what I can do... I can run errands, I can watch kids, I can wash clothes, I can clean a house. What I can't do is hold you while you cry because if I do, I will end up saying something like Romans 8:28.

Do you know how much you have to keep inside when you are the Queen of Sovereignty? That realization was what made me realize my lineage and understand what I was stuck with. It also helped me understand myself a little better though.

It was almost 17 years ago, in Charleston, SC that Michael and I buried our oldest daughter and third child, Rebekah Joy. I think most people that knew us then would say that in the midst of tragedy we managed to muddle through exceedingly well. They'd be right. It was completely genuine. We didn't try to pretend to be people that we weren't. We saw God's hand in everything and He held us closely the whole way through. We ended that experience in victory and have, to this day, an amazing testimony of His Greatness to show for it all.

Within 6 months of that tragedy Michael was at the FBI academy while I stayed home with 2 boys alone  for a little over 4 months. I met each day with enthusiasm and each night with exhaustion but never really slept. Then one day, I got a phone call. Michael told me that he had injured himself and it may be serious enough that it would prevent him from graduating.

I collapsed in tears... oh, of course not until AFTER he hung up the phone. I was inconsolable. I probably cried for hours. Obviously the boys were in bed because I'd never let them see me like that. I cried and cried and cried. Why? after all, I just buried my daughter. This was nothing compared to that.

It was at that moment that I realized I had just been crowned. How could I ever share my honest concerns about having to live through another 4 months of the FBI academy while Michael got recycled? After all, I spent months telling people in testimony after testimony of God's grace and sufficiency in the midst of such sadness. I championed His Sovereign Will in our lives and explained how THAT alone was what enabled me to move beyond the sadness.

HOW could I possibly speak to ANYONE about my concern, my worry, my fear that I would have to manage another 4 months as a single mother? Where was my faith?

It was at that moment that I said to myself "You are the Queen of Sovereignty, you have to wear the crown." I think that at that moment I could have rejected the crown. I really think I could have, but I didn't. Once I accepted it, there was no turning back.

So many of my reflections are what they are because of my royal position. Unlike real royalty, I am not sure there is a way to lose the crown. There are just some things that are so much a part of who I am that the best I can do is to recognize when it is standing in the way and try my best to work around it.

I do have some hesitations about writing this "series". I really don't even know what will come of it. I am, however, struggling with being 50. I am thinking that maybe, if I can put it in writing - my thoughts, my feelings - and share it with a few I might be able to make sense of it all.

I'm 4 days away from meeting one of God's most precious gifts to me for the weekend. She is a couple years older than I am and is taking her aging by storm. She insists that she's not bothered by it and is living her life with joy and enthusiasm. The timing isn't lost on me.

After all... I am the Queen.

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

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.

...like a flower in a compost pile.

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...

How this began...

I love the tanning bed. I know, some of you, maybe most of you are cringing now. It's not that I want to be a dark tan, I just like a little color. But I have found that for many years, there's something that brings me closer to God when I am laying in that machine, alone, warming. It's quiet, there's no chance (at least I hope not) of anyone coming in and interrupting me, my eyes are closed so there is nothing to distract me. I am enclosed in a case of bulbs so there is nothing to feel guilty about not attending to. I am just there - me and God - what a wonderful place to be. I'm only there for 10 min. PROMISE. I just can't help feeling like there's something more... after all, it's like His warmth is enveloping me and it's just us, all alone, there in that tanning bed. So I pray, and pray, and before I know it I am in an almost audible conversation. (thank goodness for the low hum of the machine, who knows what someone would think on the other side of the door).So, to those of you who encouraged me to start this. I hope I've not let you down from the start. To those of you who are rolling your eyes because "who needs yet another blog?" I'm not blaming you at all.