My husband has a good job with a nice salary, and until April of this year, I brought in some income, too. Christmases in the past involved many presents. We've never been the type of parents to buy our children the latest/greatest items, but we were definitely generous. We also made lots of cookies and treats for as many friends as we could think of. Christmas involved a LOT of money and wrapping paper.
This year it didn't. This year, I'm not working and we are paying for a mortgage in a house where we don't live. This year I spent many, many hours hiding in our little space knitting and sewing frantically so I could have gifts to give our Hall children and our ISCA daughters.
I was a bit embarrassed to be able to give so little compared to the past. We told our children we wanted nothing but their help with painting our house (neutral colors so it will rent) for Christmas. It was a slim Christmas under the tree and in the stockings.
Despite being asked not to give us anything, my oldest daughter had asked me to set aside the day after Christmas to spend with her. She wanted to give me a Christmas gift that required me to be with her. I love to be surprised, so I asked her not to tell me what it was. Many ideas went through my head; massage, manicure, tattoo....(HA)
When she announced at breakfast yesterday that she was taking me on an "update Mom's look" shopping day, I was excited, but knew that I couldn't afford to buy anything. Still, it was a wonderful idea, and I was so excited to spend the day with her. I got up to pay for breakfast, and she insisted on paying. How sweet!
We drove up to the mall that houses my favorite (over-priced) store. It was going to be so fun letting her pick things out for me to try. Once the house rents, I could hopefully come back and find them again. We narrowed things down to one item, and I prepared to leave the store. Then SHE bought the item. WHAT? Wait one minute. The shopping trip thing is my gift to the girls, not the other way around.
At first I was completely humiliated. Had it really come to this. My full-time student daughter makes more than we do? Is my wardrobe so pitiful that she feels she has to spend her hard earned money to save herself from the embarrassment of being seen with me?
Then I swallowed my pride and looked at her face. She was beaming. She truly just wanted to bless me with a shirt...and another shirt...and two pairs of jeans...and breakfast and lunch. Even though it was very difficult to do, I let her spoil me for the day. The truth is, spending the day with her was the best gift, but I do like the clothes a lot, too.
This isn't a perfect analogy, but it made me think about my relationship with God a little bit. I want to be able to point to things in my life and say, "I did this for you, God." That way, I can feel like I earned His blessings. I don't have to recognize that my gifts to Him don't even add up to the value of some cheap candy in a Christmas stocking.
The truth is, I have nothing to give Him, but He showers me with His lavish grace every moment of every day. My attitude needs to be the same as it was at the end of the day with my daughter. The best part is spending time with my Heavenly Father, but the blessings are nice, too.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Identity Theft
Sometimes my posts are very well thought out. The topic I choose to write about has been stewing in my mind and heart for a while, and I've spent a good bit of time in thought and prayer before I strike the keyboard.
Please, Father, hold that family, too.
Other times, I write as a source of release. Somehow seeing my less-filtered, gut reaction in black and white is cathartic. On these occasions, I rarely post links or share the entry with others. It is solely meant to be part of my healing process.
I think today I might be combining these two approaches. I have not spent a lot of time in thought, because thinking about this brings up too many memories and, quite simply, hurts too much. However, it is something that constantly hovers in the back of my mind, and world events often drag it kicking and screaming to the forefront, where I am forced to spend some contemplative energy on it.
The shooting in Connecticut was horrific. Most of what I know is from internet news sites and Facebook posts....followed by Snopes.com clarifications. However, I know enough to realize this was an epic tragedy that has radically affected many lives and has upset a nation of families.
Each of us has life experiences that specifically prepare us to intercede for and comfort individuals throughout their trials. Right now, I am led to pray long and hard for the family of the shooter. I know how hard it is to love someone who does something horrible. Every good memory of them becomes a source of guilt. The happy times are blanketed in a thick coat of shame and heartache. Every photo album and family video suddenly morphs from a walk and skip down memory lane into a lumbering funeral march of doubt and analyses. This family once known by their names or career, but now identified by the violent acts of one member, needs love and care and prayers and peace and mercy. And hope...oh, how they need hope.
Please, Father, hold that family, too.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Dream a Little Dream
I will admit, for the most part I am a practical, 21st Century American. As such, I find myself regularly having to challenge my worldview, values and beliefs. One such belief is that the spiritual realm of angels and demons ceased to manifest itself among mortals when John penned the last word of Revelation. Visions and dreams are merely hallucinations and our subconscious mind expressing suppressed thoughts and emotions. Right?
Until last night, that was most certainly my belief.
Let me back up a week or so. At this point in time, I am questioning almost every decision we have made this decade. Why did we move to Arkansas? Why did we change churches? Why did I go back to work? Why did we move out of our house before we sold it? These and so many more questions have consumed me.
Yesterday was the proverbial "straw" that broke the camels back. Due to our financial situation, I have been attempting to make everyone's Christmas gift this year. Once again, I am trying to do a good thing, and therefore expect the process to go smoothly. As I sat down to my sewing machine, it was anything but smooth. The machine made horrific groans as I attempted to stitch a simple seam, and the thread that spewed forth was most definitely as "unsmooth" as it comes.
On top of all the other stress I've experienced in the past few weeks, now I can't make the presents I had planned....and there is no back-up plan B. I realize my children are mature, Jesus-loving young adults who will completely understand the situation, and probably won't think I'm a terrible mother who doesn't give good things to her children at major Christian holidays when all their other friends are being showered with iCrap....but I just wanted to do this for them, dangit!~!!!!
So, after consuming an oh-so-healthy dinner of Chocolate Chex and rotting my brain with a few two many Netflix sit-coms, feeling like the sorriest excuse for a wife and mother and child of God ever to walk this planet, I went to bed. That's when my belief system was blown wide open. When my conscious mind was on autopilot, the spiritual world took the wheel.
Hear me now and believe me later...I simply don't buy into this stuff, at least not in America. Maybe this kind-of thing happens in South American jungles or tiny villages in Asian mountain ranges, but it most certainly does not happen in middle-class, suburban, hipster towns like Fayetteville. Right?
So there I was, in my dream, just standing on a bridge talking to a young woman. I didn't recognize her in the least, but I felt like I might know her somehow. She asked me how to know she's making the right decision, and I proceeded to tell her who Jesus is.
That's right...when I wasn't consciously choosing to think about God, I shared the Gospel with someone questioning life!
I know that might seem like a "coincidence," but I woke up absolutely consumed with JOY! You see, my goal in life is to get to that point at which, when I am not distracted by this world, my default thought life is all Jesus, only Jesus, completely Jesus. That dream, and the fact that I remember it, was a tiny little gift from my Father.
Even though things are so very difficult right now, and I'm having to make so many sacrifices and turn my back on so much I once held dear, its all worth it to reach that goal.
God did speak to me through a dream. It did happen....in America....to me : )
Until last night, that was most certainly my belief.
Let me back up a week or so. At this point in time, I am questioning almost every decision we have made this decade. Why did we move to Arkansas? Why did we change churches? Why did I go back to work? Why did we move out of our house before we sold it? These and so many more questions have consumed me.
Yesterday was the proverbial "straw" that broke the camels back. Due to our financial situation, I have been attempting to make everyone's Christmas gift this year. Once again, I am trying to do a good thing, and therefore expect the process to go smoothly. As I sat down to my sewing machine, it was anything but smooth. The machine made horrific groans as I attempted to stitch a simple seam, and the thread that spewed forth was most definitely as "unsmooth" as it comes.
On top of all the other stress I've experienced in the past few weeks, now I can't make the presents I had planned....and there is no back-up plan B. I realize my children are mature, Jesus-loving young adults who will completely understand the situation, and probably won't think I'm a terrible mother who doesn't give good things to her children at major Christian holidays when all their other friends are being showered with iCrap....but I just wanted to do this for them, dangit!~!!!!
So, after consuming an oh-so-healthy dinner of Chocolate Chex and rotting my brain with a few two many Netflix sit-coms, feeling like the sorriest excuse for a wife and mother and child of God ever to walk this planet, I went to bed. That's when my belief system was blown wide open. When my conscious mind was on autopilot, the spiritual world took the wheel.
Hear me now and believe me later...I simply don't buy into this stuff, at least not in America. Maybe this kind-of thing happens in South American jungles or tiny villages in Asian mountain ranges, but it most certainly does not happen in middle-class, suburban, hipster towns like Fayetteville. Right?
So there I was, in my dream, just standing on a bridge talking to a young woman. I didn't recognize her in the least, but I felt like I might know her somehow. She asked me how to know she's making the right decision, and I proceeded to tell her who Jesus is.
That's right...when I wasn't consciously choosing to think about God, I shared the Gospel with someone questioning life!
I know that might seem like a "coincidence," but I woke up absolutely consumed with JOY! You see, my goal in life is to get to that point at which, when I am not distracted by this world, my default thought life is all Jesus, only Jesus, completely Jesus. That dream, and the fact that I remember it, was a tiny little gift from my Father.
Even though things are so very difficult right now, and I'm having to make so many sacrifices and turn my back on so much I once held dear, its all worth it to reach that goal.
God did speak to me through a dream. It did happen....in America....to me : )
Friday, November 30, 2012
Fear and Finances
This morning a friend in full-time ministry posted that they found out they had lost a monthly financial supporter, and they have started the day with a pit in their stomach. Boy! Can I relate to that feeling.
Rick and I entered this life with ISCA both accepting that we may be asked to sacrifice our credit and our finances for this decision of obedience. We understood that was a possibility and chose to obey what we believed God was asking us to do. In the back of my mind, though, I think I really believed that if we obeyed, God would "bless" us the way I wanted to be blessed: Our house would sell quickly and for a good price, and He certainly wouldn't ask us to face foreclosure or bankruptcy. I mean, come on! We're doing something good here.
Please do not misunderstand me. Even though we are watching our savings dwindle away as we routinely go knock down cobwebs in our empty house, waiting for those calls from the Realtor that someone....anyone...wants to look at our property, we do not for one second regret our decision to move into ISCA house. It is not easy. There are stressful times. There are "issues" living with women from different cultures trying to coexist peacefully while studying for difficult classes. However, we do still fully believe that this is where God wants us to be, and we are very much at peace with the decision. BUT...
The MONEY!!!!
Sometimes I really hate money. Its such a source of stress, worry, anger, resentment....but mostly, FEAR. Which brings me to the second facebook post that turned my morning around.
In response to my friend's post about losing a supporter, another friend responded with a lovely encouragement including one very simple phrase: "Fear does not come from God."
Oh, AMEN SISTER!
This fear that money instills in me is absolutely, 100%, completely and totally NOT from my Father. He is the owner of the camels on a thousand hills. He created the universe and all that is in it. He has never, ever, ever, ever failed us in any way...financially, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally. He has always provided every single need.
No. This fear has another source, and I refuse to accept it anymore. I choose today to remember who my Father is, and to face the uncertainty of our financial future as it truly is...an opportunity to watch my God bless me in ways that I simply never could have imagined. I have faith, not fear, that He will surprise me with His goodness. I have hope, not fear, that His grace is sufficient.
Phil 4 (all of it) is pretty awesome stuff. But here's a little glimpse of where my heart and head are today:
4 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Rick and I entered this life with ISCA both accepting that we may be asked to sacrifice our credit and our finances for this decision of obedience. We understood that was a possibility and chose to obey what we believed God was asking us to do. In the back of my mind, though, I think I really believed that if we obeyed, God would "bless" us the way I wanted to be blessed: Our house would sell quickly and for a good price, and He certainly wouldn't ask us to face foreclosure or bankruptcy. I mean, come on! We're doing something good here.
Please do not misunderstand me. Even though we are watching our savings dwindle away as we routinely go knock down cobwebs in our empty house, waiting for those calls from the Realtor that someone....anyone...wants to look at our property, we do not for one second regret our decision to move into ISCA house. It is not easy. There are stressful times. There are "issues" living with women from different cultures trying to coexist peacefully while studying for difficult classes. However, we do still fully believe that this is where God wants us to be, and we are very much at peace with the decision. BUT...
The MONEY!!!!
Sometimes I really hate money. Its such a source of stress, worry, anger, resentment....but mostly, FEAR. Which brings me to the second facebook post that turned my morning around.
In response to my friend's post about losing a supporter, another friend responded with a lovely encouragement including one very simple phrase: "Fear does not come from God."
Oh, AMEN SISTER!
This fear that money instills in me is absolutely, 100%, completely and totally NOT from my Father. He is the owner of the camels on a thousand hills. He created the universe and all that is in it. He has never, ever, ever, ever failed us in any way...financially, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally. He has always provided every single need.
No. This fear has another source, and I refuse to accept it anymore. I choose today to remember who my Father is, and to face the uncertainty of our financial future as it truly is...an opportunity to watch my God bless me in ways that I simply never could have imagined. I have faith, not fear, that He will surprise me with His goodness. I have hope, not fear, that His grace is sufficient.
Phil 4 (all of it) is pretty awesome stuff. But here's a little glimpse of where my heart and head are today:
4 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Thoughts and Thanks
Last night I sat in a room full of mostly young men from around the world...Asia, Africa, Texas...and we discussed the events and happenings in 2012 for which we are thankful. I know this is a very common practice this time of year, but its the first time I've ever participated in this ritual with international friends.
One thing we all have in common is we are all thankful for our families. I was teased for the sappy expression I put on every time someone said the word "family", but I just couldn't help it. There are just so many times when I am overwhelmed by what a gift a loving family can be.
Today, before I launch into the frantic food frenzy that is the day before Thanksgiving, I want to take a moment to share how grateful I am for my only little clan.
I am, of course, so thankful for my husband. He works hard every day and is as loyal as the day is long. He listens to my rants, tries his best to understand my views, and wipes my tears when I realize I am a total misfit. He makes me laugh more than any other human being, he loves Jesus with all his heart, and is the most kind, generous, and understanding father I've ever encountered.
I am also quite grateful for my oldest son. He has given me a run for my money at every turn, and knows how to push every single one of my buttons at the same time, but he's never written me off, even though there are many many children who just walk away from their families. He has taught me what it looks like to forgive , and through him I've been given the opportunity to learn how to access Christ's love within me. He is a sharpening stone in my life, and I so enjoy watching God work in and through him.
My oldest daughter also fills my heart with appreciation and admiration. She is genuine and open, but is learning the fine art of recognizing trustworthy friends. She is willing to do the extremely hard work of forgiving past mistakes; her own and those of others. Her laugh fills a room but she doesn't have to joke to lift a mood. She is a true friend who listens with an open mind and prays with an open heart.
I am grateful for my younger son as well. He is so much like his father, loyal and diligent. I don't get to see him very often these days, but he is in love with an only-child. While it is difficult to part with him, his kindness in spending time with her family melts my heart. He is young, but he is becoming a man who recognizes a need and does his best to fill it. He is quiet and thoughtful and has a good heart.
This brings me to my youngest daughter, so much a mix of my husband and myself. She has such a sensitive spirit, and she constantly reminds me that its okay to feel every emotion fully. She is learning her worth and value as defined by Christ and I am often amazed at her strength when faced with temptation. In the midst of so many stressors during her senior high school year, she allows herself the balance of unapologetic joy, anger and tears...all bathed in Scripture.
God knew that I needed each of these people to mold me, sharpen me and direct me to Him. I am so thankful for each person in my family and for every memory that has formed us into who we are.
I'm not typically a big fan of country music, but when it comes to sappy lyrics about loving your family and your life, well...country music has a lot to offer.
Happy Thanksgiving!
One thing we all have in common is we are all thankful for our families. I was teased for the sappy expression I put on every time someone said the word "family", but I just couldn't help it. There are just so many times when I am overwhelmed by what a gift a loving family can be.
Today, before I launch into the frantic food frenzy that is the day before Thanksgiving, I want to take a moment to share how grateful I am for my only little clan.
I am, of course, so thankful for my husband. He works hard every day and is as loyal as the day is long. He listens to my rants, tries his best to understand my views, and wipes my tears when I realize I am a total misfit. He makes me laugh more than any other human being, he loves Jesus with all his heart, and is the most kind, generous, and understanding father I've ever encountered.
I am also quite grateful for my oldest son. He has given me a run for my money at every turn, and knows how to push every single one of my buttons at the same time, but he's never written me off, even though there are many many children who just walk away from their families. He has taught me what it looks like to forgive , and through him I've been given the opportunity to learn how to access Christ's love within me. He is a sharpening stone in my life, and I so enjoy watching God work in and through him.
My oldest daughter also fills my heart with appreciation and admiration. She is genuine and open, but is learning the fine art of recognizing trustworthy friends. She is willing to do the extremely hard work of forgiving past mistakes; her own and those of others. Her laugh fills a room but she doesn't have to joke to lift a mood. She is a true friend who listens with an open mind and prays with an open heart.
I am grateful for my younger son as well. He is so much like his father, loyal and diligent. I don't get to see him very often these days, but he is in love with an only-child. While it is difficult to part with him, his kindness in spending time with her family melts my heart. He is young, but he is becoming a man who recognizes a need and does his best to fill it. He is quiet and thoughtful and has a good heart.
This brings me to my youngest daughter, so much a mix of my husband and myself. She has such a sensitive spirit, and she constantly reminds me that its okay to feel every emotion fully. She is learning her worth and value as defined by Christ and I am often amazed at her strength when faced with temptation. In the midst of so many stressors during her senior high school year, she allows herself the balance of unapologetic joy, anger and tears...all bathed in Scripture.
God knew that I needed each of these people to mold me, sharpen me and direct me to Him. I am so thankful for each person in my family and for every memory that has formed us into who we are.
I'm not typically a big fan of country music, but when it comes to sappy lyrics about loving your family and your life, well...country music has a lot to offer.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
The Ultimate Culture Shock
Living in a home with people from multiple cultures can have its ups and downs. I admit, I am learning a lot,which is good since I know so little about this process.
I've been trying to do some research and have been asking questions of people who know more about cultural transitions than I do. I've been thinking about my friends who move to other parts of the world, and have been realizing how difficult that must be for them. I've also become aware of how much more I could have done to reach out to them when they've made these life-changes.
During all of this research and questioning, remembering and regretting, I had a thought: Jesus must have experienced the ultimate culture shock. I mean...I think leaving Asia and coming to the U.S. must be very difficult, but it can't be anything like leaving Heaven and coming to Earth.
I've decided to focus for a while on how He handled the cultural transition, and how He served His Father in the midst of it.
He surrounded Himself with a few close friends
He never lost sight of why He was here
He talked to His Father constantly
He LOVED people
He relied on God's power...
Yes. I'll focus on Him and try to see everyone the way Christ does. Seems like a good plan.
I've been trying to do some research and have been asking questions of people who know more about cultural transitions than I do. I've been thinking about my friends who move to other parts of the world, and have been realizing how difficult that must be for them. I've also become aware of how much more I could have done to reach out to them when they've made these life-changes.
During all of this research and questioning, remembering and regretting, I had a thought: Jesus must have experienced the ultimate culture shock. I mean...I think leaving Asia and coming to the U.S. must be very difficult, but it can't be anything like leaving Heaven and coming to Earth.
I've decided to focus for a while on how He handled the cultural transition, and how He served His Father in the midst of it.
He surrounded Himself with a few close friends
He never lost sight of why He was here
He talked to His Father constantly
He LOVED people
He relied on God's power...
Yes. I'll focus on Him and try to see everyone the way Christ does. Seems like a good plan.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Abolishing Acceptable Addictions
I am addicted to coffee. Why do I call my love of java an addiction? Bottom line, I continue to consume coffee even though I know it is going to make me sick. Coffee is bad for me, and yet I have to have it. In addition to making my stomach feel like its wants to turn inside out, when I don't consume coffee, my brain starts banging wildly on the walls of its room demanding coffee. That definitely qualifies as an addiction.
Not only am I addicted to coffee, but I've also come to realize that food is an idol in my life. Here's where things get tricky, and I'm probably going to say something that people will find offensive, but its been bugging me for a long time, and well....this is my blog, so I can say what I want. I think I am not the only one who has given food a throne above God in their lives.
I'm just going to ask this question very quickly and move on (like ripping off a band-aid): Why does the Church frown on addictions to alcohol, pot, crack, meth, tobacco, porn, sex, etc, but we all just accept and ignore food addictions?
Okay...moving on.
I spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about food...not just do I WANT food, I spend hours pouring over food blogs, food pins, food sites, books about food, pictures of food. If I spent half the time thinking about Jesus that I spend thinking about food, I would have a much better relationship with Him than I do now.
When I am sad, I want food. When I am lonely, I want food. When I am angry...food. When I'm happy, I celebrate with food. When I have friends over, my first thought is the appropriate food.
But it doesn't just stop with me...oh no, I push my idol on other people, too. When people come over, "Eat this." When its cold and rainy, "Eat these things I baked." When you have a baby...food. When you are sick....food. When you lose a loved one....LOTS of food.
Of course I am not saying that offering food is wrong, but it is my #1 knee-jerk response to absolutely every life situation, when my #1 default, auto-response really should be prayer...every single time. There is absolutely no circumstance for which prayer, either praise or petition, isn't the right response.
God has been so merciful throughout my life to help me recognize idols, and to help me start tearing them down. Years ago, when my perfect-little-family was my idol, He sent a storm to knock it down. Today, we are so much better for it. Then, my beautiful home became my idol, and He sent a bright light (Perspectives) to shine on my life and help me see more clearly. Now, He has brought celiac into my life to aid me in tearing down my idol of food.
Paul prayed three times that God would take away the thorn in his side. I, too, have prayed that He would take away the pain that food causes. He has chosen to leave it in my life, and it is high time I remember how good and faithful He has been, and accept the loving discipline from my tender and merciful Father.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
I Lost My Best Friend
I have a friend who has never let me down. This friend lifts my spirits when I'm down, makes me feel warm and loved, accepts me for who I am, makes my problems take a back seat, fills me up, and is always, always, always there for me...until now. Until 2011, food was my most trustworthy companion.
Now I have been diagnosed with celiac, and my one true, lifelong friend has become my enemy. I've endured pain off and on for many years, but no one ever hinted that it could be my good, close friend that was hurting me. Then last year my safe little world began to crumble, like the cakes and pies I so enjoyed baking and consuming.
I'm left feeling betrayed by my friend. I am angry and hurt. Sometimes I slip back into denial, and have to experience the betrayal all over again to return to the reality that gluten causes me to feel like I've swallowed broken glass, and it is slowly working its way through my digestive tract.
I know right now "Gluten Free" is the new "Low Fat." Everyone thinks they can't have gluten. Here's a crash course in what celiac is all about. It is NOT gluten intolerance.
Inside your digestive tract, you have these little tiny fingery looking things called villi....they sort of look like shag carpet lining your intestines. When these little fingers are all plump and happy, standing up at attention, they suck the nutrients out of the food you eat. Those nutrients are what power your body and give you the vitamins and minerals you need to do all the wonderful things God designed you to do.
In a person with celiac, gluten causes the shag carpet to lose its body and to lay down flat. the villi aren't able to absorb the nutrients. Basically, a person can be eating all the food in the world, but if they have celiac, and they ate gluten, they can die from malnutrition because their body isn't absorbing any of the nutrients from the food they eat.
So...eating gluten can, quite simply, kill a person with celiac.
Tonight, I am laying her suffering because at some point in the past week I had gluten when I didn't realize it. Gluten hides in lots of places...try reading some labels one day...just for fun.
Gluten is in: wheat flour, modified food starch,caramel color, MSG, "natural flavors," and maltodextrin, as well as any food containing wheat, rye, barley or spelt.
For someone with celiac, "gluten free" isn't enough. If a gluten-free product comes into contact with anything containing gluten, that's all it takes. For instance, Mellow Mushroom makes a gluten free pizza crust, but they use the same pans and utensils and cooking space to prepare it that they do for regular crust...so for someone with celiac, the pizza is no longer "gluten free." If a gluten-free product is made in a factory that also produces gluten products, we can't have it. Celiac disease is NOT just gluten intolerance.
Please take just a second to check out more information about celiac disease. And remember, when you meet someone with celiac and they watch you eat that cookie like they've lost their best friend...it might be because they did.
More information about Celiac Disease
Now I have been diagnosed with celiac, and my one true, lifelong friend has become my enemy. I've endured pain off and on for many years, but no one ever hinted that it could be my good, close friend that was hurting me. Then last year my safe little world began to crumble, like the cakes and pies I so enjoyed baking and consuming.
I'm left feeling betrayed by my friend. I am angry and hurt. Sometimes I slip back into denial, and have to experience the betrayal all over again to return to the reality that gluten causes me to feel like I've swallowed broken glass, and it is slowly working its way through my digestive tract.
I know right now "Gluten Free" is the new "Low Fat." Everyone thinks they can't have gluten. Here's a crash course in what celiac is all about. It is NOT gluten intolerance.
Inside your digestive tract, you have these little tiny fingery looking things called villi....they sort of look like shag carpet lining your intestines. When these little fingers are all plump and happy, standing up at attention, they suck the nutrients out of the food you eat. Those nutrients are what power your body and give you the vitamins and minerals you need to do all the wonderful things God designed you to do.
In a person with celiac, gluten causes the shag carpet to lose its body and to lay down flat. the villi aren't able to absorb the nutrients. Basically, a person can be eating all the food in the world, but if they have celiac, and they ate gluten, they can die from malnutrition because their body isn't absorbing any of the nutrients from the food they eat.
So...eating gluten can, quite simply, kill a person with celiac.
Tonight, I am laying her suffering because at some point in the past week I had gluten when I didn't realize it. Gluten hides in lots of places...try reading some labels one day...just for fun.
Gluten is in: wheat flour, modified food starch,caramel color, MSG, "natural flavors," and maltodextrin, as well as any food containing wheat, rye, barley or spelt.
For someone with celiac, "gluten free" isn't enough. If a gluten-free product comes into contact with anything containing gluten, that's all it takes. For instance, Mellow Mushroom makes a gluten free pizza crust, but they use the same pans and utensils and cooking space to prepare it that they do for regular crust...so for someone with celiac, the pizza is no longer "gluten free." If a gluten-free product is made in a factory that also produces gluten products, we can't have it. Celiac disease is NOT just gluten intolerance.
Please take just a second to check out more information about celiac disease. And remember, when you meet someone with celiac and they watch you eat that cookie like they've lost their best friend...it might be because they did.
More information about Celiac Disease
Monday, October 1, 2012
The Little Red Shovel
A long time ago, I was depressed. Not just down in the dumps. I was "swallow two bottles of pills" depressed.
At the same time, I was the mother of three little munchkins, one of whom was a newborn. Postpartum depression is a really sucky way to spend your baby's first year.
After I had recovered from that one desperately hopeless act (or was it hopelessly desperate?), I spent a lot of time being therapized. At least twice per week I would drag myself off the couch and try to make my "insert-name-of-SSRI-drug-here" embalmed body look human. All so I could go pour out my soul to a $100 p/hour stranger.
On one of these particular occasions, I noticed my son standing outside the bathroom door, watching me stare blankly into the mirror. He asked where I was going, and I told him "to the doctor." He thought a second, and then asked, "Why do you go to the doctor so much, Mom?" In an effort to make it simple for him to understand, I explained, "Well, the doctor is trying to help mommy's heart not be so sad." He shifted from one foot to the other, and then queried further, "Doesn't Jesus live in your heart anymore?"
Wow. That was a tough one, and I didn't really have the energy to handle that kind of depth from a five year old. I tried, once again, to put it into kindergarten terms. "Yes, Jesus is still in my heart, but I buried Him under a lot of sad stuff. The doctor is helping me dig Him out."
My little five year-old, wise beyond his years, quickly turned and ran down the stairs. I heard him digging through his toy box and then tromping up the stairs as fast as he could. He stood, breathless, by the sink, and thrust the little red shovel into my hand. "Here, Mommy, so you can find Jesus faster."
So often we do that....bury our Jesus. He could easily burst through the rocks and sand of our sadness and stand triumphant upon the mountain of His accomplishment, and I suppose for some people He does just that. For most of us though, I think we have to work. I think the joy can only come when we put our backs into it, reach down through the rubble, and feel Jesus take our hand as we pull Him back up to his proper place. Sometimes that what it takes, and the work is SO hard. But He is SO worth it.
I still have that little red shovel...somewhere in a drawer, and when I randomly come across it as I search for something else, I am reminded of the joy I experienced on that day I realized Jesus was standing atop the rubble...standing there with me and that little red shovel from my sweet little son.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
I Am Not Enough
Every day that I live in this wonderful place, one thing stands out in my mind...
I AM RIDICULOUSLY INADEQUATE FOR THIS ROLE!!!!!
One thing is certain, if anything positive happens in this house, it is 100%, bonafide, tried and true from God. I can make a house pretty. I can make a house feel homey. I'm even okay at ensuring people feel welcome here. What I can't do is heal the hurts of the lovely young women who share this home with me. I would give anything to be able to do that.
I have spent enough time on this planet to realize, however, that Jesus is enough to heal any hurt. He is enough to sooth any sorrow. He is enough...
So every morning I sit here on my little red loveseat in my tiny living room with my cup of coffee listening to the high school band practice, and I take each one of these ladies to my Heavenly Father. I set them in His big comfy Dad lap and plead with Him to hold them, to make them feel safe, to let them feel loved, to pour peace over them, to fill them with joy.
That's all I can do.
There are days, when I feel
The best of me, is ready to begin.
Then there are days, when I feel
I'm letting go, and soaring on the wind;
But I've learned in laughter or in pain
How to survive.
And I get on my knees,
I get on my knees.
There I am before the Lord that changes me.
See, I don't know how but there's power
When I'm on my knees.
I can be in a crowd, or by myself
Or almost anywhere;
When I feel, there's a need to talk with God.
He is Emmanuel!
When I close my eyes, no darkness there,
There's only light.
When I get on my knees,
When I get on my kness.
There I am before the lord that changes me.
See, I don't know how but there's power
In the blue sky.
I don't know how but there's power
In the midnight.
I don't know how but there's power
When I'm on my knees.
I get on my knees.
I get on my knees.
There I am before the Lord that changes me.
I don't know how but there's power.
I don't know how but God gives me power.
I don't know how but there's power,
When I'm on my knees.
I AM RIDICULOUSLY INADEQUATE FOR THIS ROLE!!!!!
One thing is certain, if anything positive happens in this house, it is 100%, bonafide, tried and true from God. I can make a house pretty. I can make a house feel homey. I'm even okay at ensuring people feel welcome here. What I can't do is heal the hurts of the lovely young women who share this home with me. I would give anything to be able to do that.
I have spent enough time on this planet to realize, however, that Jesus is enough to heal any hurt. He is enough to sooth any sorrow. He is enough...
So every morning I sit here on my little red loveseat in my tiny living room with my cup of coffee listening to the high school band practice, and I take each one of these ladies to my Heavenly Father. I set them in His big comfy Dad lap and plead with Him to hold them, to make them feel safe, to let them feel loved, to pour peace over them, to fill them with joy.
That's all I can do.
There are days, when I feel
The best of me, is ready to begin.
Then there are days, when I feel
I'm letting go, and soaring on the wind;
But I've learned in laughter or in pain
How to survive.
And I get on my knees,
I get on my knees.
There I am before the Lord that changes me.
See, I don't know how but there's power
When I'm on my knees.
I can be in a crowd, or by myself
Or almost anywhere;
When I feel, there's a need to talk with God.
He is Emmanuel!
When I close my eyes, no darkness there,
There's only light.
When I get on my knees,
When I get on my kness.
There I am before the lord that changes me.
See, I don't know how but there's power
In the blue sky.
I don't know how but there's power
In the midnight.
I don't know how but there's power
When I'm on my knees.
I get on my knees.
I get on my knees.
There I am before the Lord that changes me.
I don't know how but there's power.
I don't know how but God gives me power.
I don't know how but there's power,
When I'm on my knees.
Monday, September 10, 2012
I am a Mom
I've been trying to put together a blog, complete with pictures, of our new home at the one-month mark. Seeing as how it is now six weeks since we moved, I'd say its time to start working on the two-month blog. Oh well.
In the meantime, I've had a couple of revelations lately, and considering that I'm sitting here with a giant mug of pumpkin spice coffee, I figured I'd take minute to jot them down.
Back in the day when all my wee ones were...well....wee, I was a stay-at-home mom. I enjoyed it, but as the kids got a little older and more self-sufficient, I began pondering that age -old question, "Is this really all there is?" I simply didn't feel very important.
Somewhere in a box in our storage unit (the 10x10 unit; not the 3000 sq/ft storage unit we are still trying to sell) sits an old book I completed when I was 8 years old. The title of this relic is, "My Book About Me," and in it are all sorts of questions about my likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams. At the ripe old age of eight, I declared that I wanted to be a Mom when I grew up. At eight years of age, however, "Mom" doesn't necessarily imply what that word truly entails.
All I knew was that Moms are awesome! I didn't truly understand that the job title of "Mom" actually means maid, chauffer, cook, nurse, teacher, personal shopper, etc, etc. I just knew that everyone loves their Mom, and I wanted to be loved.
As the four little people who called me "Mom" grew up, I recognized that I was working myself out of a job, and I desperately wanted to be acknowledged and necessary. I wanted people to appreciate all I had to offer, so I did what any reasonable person would do: I got a job (outside the home).
And here's what I learned during the couple of decades I've spent working in administration: I am a very good Mom. Now I'm not saying I'm not a good administrator. I'm okay at that, too. The thing that brings me joy, however, is nurturing people and providing them with a safe, cozy, warm, loving environment to call home.
Do you want to hear the most amazing part of this epiphany? God knows this about me, and He took me out of a career in which I was merely competent, and gave me the desire of my heart. By simply obeying His leading, I am doing that which brings me the greatest happiness.
Until this point on my journey my eyes would not have been open to this. My heart simply wasn't prepared to accept that "Mom" is what I was created to be. Here I am, though...a Mom away from home to many young ladies (and gentlemen to a certain extent), and I am loving every minute of it. My God is so good to me!
In the meantime, I've had a couple of revelations lately, and considering that I'm sitting here with a giant mug of pumpkin spice coffee, I figured I'd take minute to jot them down.
Back in the day when all my wee ones were...well....wee, I was a stay-at-home mom. I enjoyed it, but as the kids got a little older and more self-sufficient, I began pondering that age -old question, "Is this really all there is?" I simply didn't feel very important.
Somewhere in a box in our storage unit (the 10x10 unit; not the 3000 sq/ft storage unit we are still trying to sell) sits an old book I completed when I was 8 years old. The title of this relic is, "My Book About Me," and in it are all sorts of questions about my likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams. At the ripe old age of eight, I declared that I wanted to be a Mom when I grew up. At eight years of age, however, "Mom" doesn't necessarily imply what that word truly entails.
All I knew was that Moms are awesome! I didn't truly understand that the job title of "Mom" actually means maid, chauffer, cook, nurse, teacher, personal shopper, etc, etc. I just knew that everyone loves their Mom, and I wanted to be loved.
As the four little people who called me "Mom" grew up, I recognized that I was working myself out of a job, and I desperately wanted to be acknowledged and necessary. I wanted people to appreciate all I had to offer, so I did what any reasonable person would do: I got a job (outside the home).
And here's what I learned during the couple of decades I've spent working in administration: I am a very good Mom. Now I'm not saying I'm not a good administrator. I'm okay at that, too. The thing that brings me joy, however, is nurturing people and providing them with a safe, cozy, warm, loving environment to call home.
Do you want to hear the most amazing part of this epiphany? God knows this about me, and He took me out of a career in which I was merely competent, and gave me the desire of my heart. By simply obeying His leading, I am doing that which brings me the greatest happiness.
Until this point on my journey my eyes would not have been open to this. My heart simply wasn't prepared to accept that "Mom" is what I was created to be. Here I am, though...a Mom away from home to many young ladies (and gentlemen to a certain extent), and I am loving every minute of it. My God is so good to me!
Monday, August 27, 2012
Idol Demolition
I am an incredibly passionate person. I feel things very deeply. I'm never just happy or just sad. I am ecstatic or morose...no in between. Even so, my level of rage lately has surprised me. While I do tend to experience emotions-on-steroids, being so angry I find myself shaking is not typical.
I was warned that I would encounter spiritual warfare when we chose to go into full-time ministry. I took those warnings seriously, but I wasn't necessarily prepared for the way the enemy would go about his first attack.
I have always considered myself a very merciful and forgiving person. While my emotions do tend to explode out of my psyche at a somewhat alarming level, they fade just as quickly. I'm like a roman candle, I suppose: lots of OOOHHH and AAAHHHH followed quickly by a darkened landscape devoid of even a tiny spark.
My normal ability to quickly recover from emotional diarrhea has left me questioning why I am unable to overcome my anger regarding long-term family relationships. I think perhaps these relationships have become idols. Maybe I am demanding more of these relationships than they are actually designed to provide.
Satan absolutely loves it when we compare ourselves to other people. He doesn't care if we think we're better than they are, or if we find ourselves helplessly inferior. He is only concerned that we take our eyes off of Christ and fix them squarely on ourselves. I have most definitely been guilty of that lately.
Lately I have been focused on the ways I am different than another person. I cannot deny I am quite jealous of this person. In human terms, all of these emotions are actually quite valid. I have a right to feel what I am feeling, and there is considerable evidence that my emotions are not inappropriate for the situation.
However, given that I am a child of the King, that my worth and value are found in Him alone, I have no reason to continue to wallow in this vat of self-pity and misery. There is only one reason I am hanging onto this fury: I am choosing to remain angry.
SO...I am tearing down this idol of the perfect family. My value is not determined by the way another person treats me. My worth is not found in the affections of a human. My happiness does not depend on the actions of another. My offer of forgiveness is not dependent on an apology.
God will be on the throne in my life. Period.
God will be on the throne in my life. Period.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Release
This blog is about my life as a Believer in Christ. I would like it to all be sunshine and roses, but it isn't. Sometimes my posts are about sin and its results. This is one of those days.
I am the result of a union that should never have occurred. A man and a woman met and wed, had a horrible marriage, and an even uglier divorce. It would have been better if we could have said, "Well, at least they didn't have any children." However, they did.
I have spent many years and even more tears wishing my parents were different. I have tried over and over to be what they want, but what they want isn't possible. I cannot be the child of a different mother. I cannot be unborn. I cannot change the fact that I am a constant reminder of a painful mistake.
What I can do is show mercy and grace and stop trying to make my parents accept me. I can remove myself from their lives, so they don't have to try and fail over and over to love me. I can take away an obstacle to an otherwise comfortable life. I cause pain, and I don't want to anymore. I recognize that I have been selfish in wanting an impossible relationship, so I am releasing them and their spouses from any sense of obligation.
I believe my parents know the truth; that its not my fault I was born. They know that I can't help who I am. They know they should love me and accept me. The truth, however, does not make me more lovable or any less a scar on their hearts.
Thus, I am moving on. I am choosing to forgive my parents for having me, but not really wanting me or knowing how to love me. How can I fault them for being incapable of looking past their own regrets. To truly love and accept me, they would have to forgive each other and themselves. Self-forgiveness requires a heart change, and I am simply not responsible for changing hearts.
I believe my Heavenly Father wants me. I believe He does love me. I believe He accepts me. I believe that same love is available for my parents. Jesus is proof enough that we are lovable.
I do not have a song for this post. There is no music to express this.
I am the result of a union that should never have occurred. A man and a woman met and wed, had a horrible marriage, and an even uglier divorce. It would have been better if we could have said, "Well, at least they didn't have any children." However, they did.
I have spent many years and even more tears wishing my parents were different. I have tried over and over to be what they want, but what they want isn't possible. I cannot be the child of a different mother. I cannot be unborn. I cannot change the fact that I am a constant reminder of a painful mistake.
What I can do is show mercy and grace and stop trying to make my parents accept me. I can remove myself from their lives, so they don't have to try and fail over and over to love me. I can take away an obstacle to an otherwise comfortable life. I cause pain, and I don't want to anymore. I recognize that I have been selfish in wanting an impossible relationship, so I am releasing them and their spouses from any sense of obligation.
I believe my parents know the truth; that its not my fault I was born. They know that I can't help who I am. They know they should love me and accept me. The truth, however, does not make me more lovable or any less a scar on their hearts.
Thus, I am moving on. I am choosing to forgive my parents for having me, but not really wanting me or knowing how to love me. How can I fault them for being incapable of looking past their own regrets. To truly love and accept me, they would have to forgive each other and themselves. Self-forgiveness requires a heart change, and I am simply not responsible for changing hearts.
I believe my Heavenly Father wants me. I believe He does love me. I believe He accepts me. I believe that same love is available for my parents. Jesus is proof enough that we are lovable.
I do not have a song for this post. There is no music to express this.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Looking in the Rear View Mirror
Recently I was thinking about where we live right now, and I wondered what 25 year-old me would have to say about it. As is often the case, that led to dredging up some history and contemplation about all that has gone into us arriving at this point in our lives. I realized I have always been a very blessed woman.
I recognize we live in a world full of prejudice. I am certainly not immune to this, but I was very blessed to have a mother who was diligent to teach me that all people are essentially the same. When I was young, I wasn't even allowed to use the word "black." My mother taught me, "If you need to describe what a person looks like, then describe what they look like." People were tall, with black curly hair and medium brown skin, or they were short with freckles and long blonde hair, etc. I am so very grateful to have been raised in a family that taught me to look at a person's outside as just that...only the outside.
When I was in 8th grade, my mother took me out of the very exclusive private school I had attended since first grade and moved me to the public school in my area. I grew up in rural, coastal South Carolina, and people of European ancestry are definitely in the minority in that part of the world. I graduated as the only "white" person in my high school class. It wasn't easy, but I learned how to get along with people who didn't look like me and who had a somewhat different cultural experience than I did. I had a lot of friends, in part I believe, because I had grown up knowing that we are all the same. I am very grateful that I was able to experience being a minority in the school culture. It taught me empathy, that's for sure.
I was also raised a Jehovah's Witness. This group is often ostracized and ridiculed for their religious practices and beliefs. I experienced what its like to be made fun of for my beliefs. In 1990, I was introduced to Jesus...God the Son. Jehovah's Witnesses practice excommunication when a person breaks moral laws or questions the teachings. I chose to leave the religion of my childhood, and in so doing have not been able to speak to or associate with my mother or my childhood friends. I know what its like to give up everyone I love (well...except my husband) for my beliefs. I have a limited idea of what our students would have to do if they chose to follow Christ. I am very grateful to have that knowledge and understanding.
There are so many other experiences I can look back upon and realize everything was happening to help prepare me for this time in our lives. I didn't fully appreciate them at the time, but boy do I now!!!
I recognize we live in a world full of prejudice. I am certainly not immune to this, but I was very blessed to have a mother who was diligent to teach me that all people are essentially the same. When I was young, I wasn't even allowed to use the word "black." My mother taught me, "If you need to describe what a person looks like, then describe what they look like." People were tall, with black curly hair and medium brown skin, or they were short with freckles and long blonde hair, etc. I am so very grateful to have been raised in a family that taught me to look at a person's outside as just that...only the outside.
When I was in 8th grade, my mother took me out of the very exclusive private school I had attended since first grade and moved me to the public school in my area. I grew up in rural, coastal South Carolina, and people of European ancestry are definitely in the minority in that part of the world. I graduated as the only "white" person in my high school class. It wasn't easy, but I learned how to get along with people who didn't look like me and who had a somewhat different cultural experience than I did. I had a lot of friends, in part I believe, because I had grown up knowing that we are all the same. I am very grateful that I was able to experience being a minority in the school culture. It taught me empathy, that's for sure.
I was also raised a Jehovah's Witness. This group is often ostracized and ridiculed for their religious practices and beliefs. I experienced what its like to be made fun of for my beliefs. In 1990, I was introduced to Jesus...God the Son. Jehovah's Witnesses practice excommunication when a person breaks moral laws or questions the teachings. I chose to leave the religion of my childhood, and in so doing have not been able to speak to or associate with my mother or my childhood friends. I know what its like to give up everyone I love (well...except my husband) for my beliefs. I have a limited idea of what our students would have to do if they chose to follow Christ. I am very grateful to have that knowledge and understanding.
There are so many other experiences I can look back upon and realize everything was happening to help prepare me for this time in our lives. I didn't fully appreciate them at the time, but boy do I now!!!
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
The Inner Enemy
I am probably not alone in this, but sometimes I will play a conversation over and over in my head (one that has already happened, not the "practice conversations" I also have prior to the actual discourse). I will think back to what was said, and I will beat myself up about how I worded something or for what I was too afraid to say. I will question why I let something roll off my tongue that should most definitely have stayed locked away, or better yet, should not have been in my heart to begin with.
Right now, I am doing that a LOT. I am so concerned that I am going to offend someone, and yet in the midst of conversations that concern seems to be placed on hold. I am left with post-convo-guilt.
This morning I was replaying a conversation I had last night, and questioning my motives in sharing what I did. I got caught up in the moment, complaining about the condition of something without stopping to think about the others who deal with this thing, and who have been dealing with it longer than I have been. (I know that's a convoluted sentence.).
It is entirely possible that the people within earshot of me thought I was criticizing them, which wasn't my intention, but I completely understand that is how it could have been taken. Even in the midst of that conversation I knew I should just shut up...but I didn't.
I was sitting here thinking about how very inept I am. How bad of a person I am. How stupid I am. How little self-control I exhibit. How thoughtless I can be. I was completely focused on my sin, and not on my Father. Hmmmm....who would benefit most by this ongoing self-introspection and belittling? Could it be....SATAN?
So, once again, I take this to my Father. I confess to Him, "Lord, I didn't control my tongue; that tiny little rudder that directs this ship to places it should not go. Please forgive me and give me the strength and wisdom to recognize it sooner in the midst of conversation, and then to act on the urging of the Holy Spirit to JUST STOP TALKING!!!!"
I will apologize to those people I think I might have offended. And I will move on. I will not wallow. Wallowing is for pigs in mud, and I am a child of God. The enemy will not keep me trapped in this self-inflicted prison. I am free.
Right now, I am doing that a LOT. I am so concerned that I am going to offend someone, and yet in the midst of conversations that concern seems to be placed on hold. I am left with post-convo-guilt.
This morning I was replaying a conversation I had last night, and questioning my motives in sharing what I did. I got caught up in the moment, complaining about the condition of something without stopping to think about the others who deal with this thing, and who have been dealing with it longer than I have been. (I know that's a convoluted sentence.).
It is entirely possible that the people within earshot of me thought I was criticizing them, which wasn't my intention, but I completely understand that is how it could have been taken. Even in the midst of that conversation I knew I should just shut up...but I didn't.
I was sitting here thinking about how very inept I am. How bad of a person I am. How stupid I am. How little self-control I exhibit. How thoughtless I can be. I was completely focused on my sin, and not on my Father. Hmmmm....who would benefit most by this ongoing self-introspection and belittling? Could it be....SATAN?
So, once again, I take this to my Father. I confess to Him, "Lord, I didn't control my tongue; that tiny little rudder that directs this ship to places it should not go. Please forgive me and give me the strength and wisdom to recognize it sooner in the midst of conversation, and then to act on the urging of the Holy Spirit to JUST STOP TALKING!!!!"
I will apologize to those people I think I might have offended. And I will move on. I will not wallow. Wallowing is for pigs in mud, and I am a child of God. The enemy will not keep me trapped in this self-inflicted prison. I am free.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
The Little Things
This evening I watched a movie and then had a great discussion with a young woman that I am so excited to get to know. It wasn't a great monumental event. World peace wasn't achieved. Diseases were not cured. Gravity was not defied. I simply got to spend time with a young woman and listen to her heart. It was amazing.
I don't have a lot to say about it. I am just so thankful to be here, in this place, with these people, at this time.
I don't have a lot to say about it. I am just so thankful to be here, in this place, with these people, at this time.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Our Very, Very, Very Fine But Naked House
A couple of weeks ago I began slowly undressing my home. First, I took off all of its jewelry: The candles and vases and momentos from travel and treasure hunts and childhoods. Last week I turned its pockets inside out; the drawers full of tools necessary for various habits and hobbies. Today, I stripped it of its accessories; the scarves around its windows and the pictures adorning its walls. I look about the house, and even though it still has all its clothes on (aka, furniture), it just looks undressed.
Tomorrow evening our old home will be naked, and our new home will have the look of our older daughter when she was going through what we affectionately call her "bag-lady" phase...when she wore all of her favorite clothes at once, with a swimsuit over it all!
It is all so bittersweet. I'm so excited about our new adventure, and every time we read a verse or devotional about obedience to God's direction, I feel a sense of joy that we are responding, and for once don't have that twinge of guilt that comes from ignoring my Father. However, goodbyes are always difficult, and this time we aren't just saying farewell to a house, we are bidding adieu to a chapter of our lives; no...we are turning our backs on a former lifestyle altogether.
This is all new and different and scary and exciting and... I feel naked and exposed and vulnerable, just like my house. Guess its time to clothe myself with the love of Christ and everything will be easy, cuz of Him.
Tomorrow evening our old home will be naked, and our new home will have the look of our older daughter when she was going through what we affectionately call her "bag-lady" phase...when she wore all of her favorite clothes at once, with a swimsuit over it all!
It is all so bittersweet. I'm so excited about our new adventure, and every time we read a verse or devotional about obedience to God's direction, I feel a sense of joy that we are responding, and for once don't have that twinge of guilt that comes from ignoring my Father. However, goodbyes are always difficult, and this time we aren't just saying farewell to a house, we are bidding adieu to a chapter of our lives; no...we are turning our backs on a former lifestyle altogether.
This is all new and different and scary and exciting and... I feel naked and exposed and vulnerable, just like my house. Guess its time to clothe myself with the love of Christ and everything will be easy, cuz of Him.
Now Everything is Easy Cuz of You, Father
Friday, July 13, 2012
Help me in my unbelief
Today is one of those horrible, terrible days that cannot be defined. I cannot pin my feelings of melancholy to a specific event or trauma. I just woke up feeling down in the dumps and find myself questioning my life choices.
One of the reasons I'm keeping this blog is so that I can look back and see all that God has done, as well as to hopefully help other people see themselves in my struggles. Sometimes it just helps to realize you aren't "bad" for feeling the way you do. You are just like everybody else. Today, however, I feel alone.
I did some work on updating our checkbook registry and looked up our bank statement online. My head started doing that thing where I add up numbers and subtract numbers and realize that we don't make or have as much money as I thought we did. (I think that's called math, but I HATE that four-letter word.) Then I started thinking about how much we owe each month, and those numbers were even more askew. (See...math and numbers are evil.)
On top of that, our oldest son is under attack by someone he works with, and its all just boiled up to the point that I can't just smile and quote a random Scripture and swallow it all down again. I do know that God will work this all out. Somehow the house will sell, or it won't. Either way, we'll be okay. What's the worst thing that could happen? We wind up going to foreclosure? We screw our credit score?
I guess I just thought that if we were obedient, everything would go smoothly. My head says that's dumb. God made it clear that we would suffer for His names sake. I guess I just don't want that to be true. I want right choices to come with sunshine and lollipops. I want the path of obedience to be covered in extra-thick padded carpet...or better yet, a luxury vehicle to carry me easily down the road on auto-pilot.
I sat myself down and started thinking about all the things I could do to fix the situation. I could go back to work, even just part time. However, in my heart of hearts, I know that I need to make ISCA my full-time job. I need to make sure I'm available for these students. I just know that to be true. I look around the house and try to identify more things to sell. I don't really NEED an engagement ring. I know I'm married. Rick knows I love him.
Way down, in the very back corner of my heart, I think I hear a little voice telling me that God wants to take care of this. He wants to show me that He will provide in ways that I can't imagine possible. He wants it to be very obvious that HE is the one working it all out, and that its been in the works since the beginning. I'm just so afraid.
Father, I believe. Help me in my unbelief.
I am not a big fan of the Gaithers, but I just can't find better lyrics than these. If there are any talented composers out there who would like to set this to a different tune, please send it to me when you're done.
I believe. Help thou my unbelief.
I take the finite risk of trusting like a child.
I believe. Help thou my unbelief.
I walk into the unknown, trusting all the while.
I long so much to feel the warmth that others seem to know.
But should I never feel a thing, I claim him even so.
I believe. Help thou my unbelief.
I walk into the unknown trusting as a child.
One of the reasons I'm keeping this blog is so that I can look back and see all that God has done, as well as to hopefully help other people see themselves in my struggles. Sometimes it just helps to realize you aren't "bad" for feeling the way you do. You are just like everybody else. Today, however, I feel alone.
I did some work on updating our checkbook registry and looked up our bank statement online. My head started doing that thing where I add up numbers and subtract numbers and realize that we don't make or have as much money as I thought we did. (I think that's called math, but I HATE that four-letter word.) Then I started thinking about how much we owe each month, and those numbers were even more askew. (See...math and numbers are evil.)
On top of that, our oldest son is under attack by someone he works with, and its all just boiled up to the point that I can't just smile and quote a random Scripture and swallow it all down again. I do know that God will work this all out. Somehow the house will sell, or it won't. Either way, we'll be okay. What's the worst thing that could happen? We wind up going to foreclosure? We screw our credit score?
I guess I just thought that if we were obedient, everything would go smoothly. My head says that's dumb. God made it clear that we would suffer for His names sake. I guess I just don't want that to be true. I want right choices to come with sunshine and lollipops. I want the path of obedience to be covered in extra-thick padded carpet...or better yet, a luxury vehicle to carry me easily down the road on auto-pilot.
I sat myself down and started thinking about all the things I could do to fix the situation. I could go back to work, even just part time. However, in my heart of hearts, I know that I need to make ISCA my full-time job. I need to make sure I'm available for these students. I just know that to be true. I look around the house and try to identify more things to sell. I don't really NEED an engagement ring. I know I'm married. Rick knows I love him.
Way down, in the very back corner of my heart, I think I hear a little voice telling me that God wants to take care of this. He wants to show me that He will provide in ways that I can't imagine possible. He wants it to be very obvious that HE is the one working it all out, and that its been in the works since the beginning. I'm just so afraid.
Father, I believe. Help me in my unbelief.
I am not a big fan of the Gaithers, but I just can't find better lyrics than these. If there are any talented composers out there who would like to set this to a different tune, please send it to me when you're done.
I believe. Help thou my unbelief.
I take the finite risk of trusting like a child.
I believe. Help thou my unbelief.
I walk into the unknown, trusting all the while.
I long so much to feel the warmth that others seem to know.
But should I never feel a thing, I claim him even so.
I believe. Help thou my unbelief.
I walk into the unknown trusting as a child.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
With Age Comes...
Over the past few days I've had a few reminders of who I was then and who I am now.
Last night was our prayer and Bible study time with ISCA. The sun room was full of folks from all around the world, I got to meet some ISCA neighbors, and the study was rich. I find myself diving in...and talking WAY too much.
"Back in the day" I wanted to make sure everyone knew I was scholarly, intelligent and very well-versed in Scripture. I would raise my hand and offer my pearls of wisdom every time a question was asked. As I've aged, I've come to realize just how patient my fellow study-goers actually were. Last night, I kept catching myself holding back; waiting to see what everyone else had to say. I still talked too much, but I'm constantly enthralled with what these young men and women share as well as the questions they pose. Tuesday evening is now my favorite time of the week as I am filled to the brim with wisdom from every age and nation imaginable.
After the meeting we spent some time discussing our transition into ISCA house ministry. I'll be honest, I am a planner. I like to have specific dates, specific instructions, specific agendas...you get the idea. I just want all those ducks in a straight, orderly row. "Back in the day" I would have been highly offended that everyone wasn't wound as tightly as I am. But last night, I just let it go. I had some of the information I needed, and I had most of the dates, and that was enough for last night. I didn't need it all right then. It was so nice to see that maybe I am growing more laid back and just a little less "puckered."
Today, I had the rare privilege to have lunch with one of my sweetest friends. She's just a few years ahead of me in this parenting journey, and actually brought along her first grandbaby. That little bundle is just about the cutest thing ever, and I was so excited to get to be part of Grandma's first outing. As is often the case around lunchtime, the little sweetheart simply wasn't in the mood for sitting in the booth, listening to grandma and her friend yammer on and on, and she made herself heard. We did some tag-team grandma'ing, standing-sitting, rocking-jiggling, patting-rubbing. We pulled out all the tricks, and both wound up saying at some point, "I've had four kids...I know how to do this, right?"
While we didn't get to do as much catching up as we may have liked, it was fun to take turns with the baby, remembering how we would somehow go out with three little kids AND a baby on a regular basis. How did we survive that? We did more than survive, though. We both now have four grown children who are thriving. We had friends we turned to in the same boat, and we had older ladies to look to for hope and encouragement.
Here we are in the same boat again. My friend and I had each other to look to when we were perplexed by this baby who just wouldn't be satisfied. We have each other to look to for encouragement when we have weddings to plan and in-laws to share our children with.
I am not who I was, yet so much is the same. Friends and relationships have always been so much more important than schedules or knowing all the answers. People are what really matter. With age comes wisdom (and grandbabies)!
Last night was our prayer and Bible study time with ISCA. The sun room was full of folks from all around the world, I got to meet some ISCA neighbors, and the study was rich. I find myself diving in...and talking WAY too much.
"Back in the day" I wanted to make sure everyone knew I was scholarly, intelligent and very well-versed in Scripture. I would raise my hand and offer my pearls of wisdom every time a question was asked. As I've aged, I've come to realize just how patient my fellow study-goers actually were. Last night, I kept catching myself holding back; waiting to see what everyone else had to say. I still talked too much, but I'm constantly enthralled with what these young men and women share as well as the questions they pose. Tuesday evening is now my favorite time of the week as I am filled to the brim with wisdom from every age and nation imaginable.
After the meeting we spent some time discussing our transition into ISCA house ministry. I'll be honest, I am a planner. I like to have specific dates, specific instructions, specific agendas...you get the idea. I just want all those ducks in a straight, orderly row. "Back in the day" I would have been highly offended that everyone wasn't wound as tightly as I am. But last night, I just let it go. I had some of the information I needed, and I had most of the dates, and that was enough for last night. I didn't need it all right then. It was so nice to see that maybe I am growing more laid back and just a little less "puckered."
Today, I had the rare privilege to have lunch with one of my sweetest friends. She's just a few years ahead of me in this parenting journey, and actually brought along her first grandbaby. That little bundle is just about the cutest thing ever, and I was so excited to get to be part of Grandma's first outing. As is often the case around lunchtime, the little sweetheart simply wasn't in the mood for sitting in the booth, listening to grandma and her friend yammer on and on, and she made herself heard. We did some tag-team grandma'ing, standing-sitting, rocking-jiggling, patting-rubbing. We pulled out all the tricks, and both wound up saying at some point, "I've had four kids...I know how to do this, right?"
While we didn't get to do as much catching up as we may have liked, it was fun to take turns with the baby, remembering how we would somehow go out with three little kids AND a baby on a regular basis. How did we survive that? We did more than survive, though. We both now have four grown children who are thriving. We had friends we turned to in the same boat, and we had older ladies to look to for hope and encouragement.
Here we are in the same boat again. My friend and I had each other to look to when we were perplexed by this baby who just wouldn't be satisfied. We have each other to look to for encouragement when we have weddings to plan and in-laws to share our children with.
I am not who I was, yet so much is the same. Friends and relationships have always been so much more important than schedules or knowing all the answers. People are what really matter. With age comes wisdom (and grandbabies)!
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Stepford Wives, Guilt and Finding Mr. Right.
Today I was up to my armpits in silver polish, trying to pack up a bunch of beautiful service ware my mother gave me. Way back in the late 1960's and early 1970's, when my parents were still unhappily married, my mother took her role as a Navy Officer's wife very seriously. It was back in the days of Jackie Kennedy, and the pressure was hot and heavy for the military wives to be the inspiration for the Stepford Wives.
My parents eventually divorced in the mid-seventies, and my Mom remarried a man who laid carpet and installed formica counter tops for a living. Their lifestyle now enjoyed a radically different type of party (much more fun, if you ask me).
I have vague memories of getting out the china, silver and stemware for very fancy events, some when I was tiny and others when I was older. I have good memories of my mother very carefully handing me one of these precious treasures and watching me as I tiptoed with it to the table, both of us holding our breath the whole time.
After many years collecting dust in a closet of my childhood home, all of the china and silver found its way to my dining room. My Mom generously shared these special things with me, and I was so incredibly grateful. However, I don't really use them any more than my Mom did.
While my mother did an amazing job of teaching me proper etiquette and which fork goes with which course, she did an equally amazing job of teaching me that people are more important than things. God has continued to teach me that lesson since I've left my mother's home. Through the years, I've had the opportunity to share these lovely items with many people who host special occasions and need a pretty table to show their guests how much they mean to them.
Today, as I polished the silver and wrapped it up carefully in the hand-sewn silvercloth pouches my mother custom made for each piece, I thought about the reasons she bought these items, the reason we both kept them, and what they've really meant in our lives. The truth is, right now I just don't have anywhere to store these material things. I also feel rather guilty even having them. They are SO nice and are such a luxury. But...they were my Mom's.
My Mom and I are now estranged. I left my childhood religion, and that religion requires shunning when someone leaves. I've come to terms with that, but it doesn't make me love my Mom any less. These precious, unnecessary, luxurious items are a connection to my mother. When I polish these pieces, I'm transported back to a time when we were close, and that makes me happy. I think its okay to keep them.
I stood at the sink for a couple of hours rubbing off the tarnish on the silver tea pots and trays and bowls and candle sticks, and decided I did need to get rid of some of it..but not all. I will keep some. As I buffed out the dark spots on the surface, I heard a song on the radio that made me think of all of my female friends who feel the same pressure I do to "be" what our culture says we should be...to have the things we're supposed to have...to look the way we're supposed to look. It made me think of my Mom and all that pressure she felt to be the perfect Navy wife, and my concerns with what people will think of me if they know I have such fancy material things, and my daughters who want to meet Mr. Right and one day have homes where they can have pretty things handed down from their mother and grandmother. I think of my friends who lost things in divorces and feel the pressure of providing for themselves. I think of the ladies in Honduras who have to sell themselves just to eat.
Anyway...this song (the CLEAN version, mind you) made me think of all the pressure that's been heaped on women, and how we just don't have to accept it. Our Heavenly Dad is crazy about us, and we need to remind each other of that every chance we get. So, here's to you, ladies! (BTW, I know this was originally done by Pink, but these two are really, really good!)
My parents eventually divorced in the mid-seventies, and my Mom remarried a man who laid carpet and installed formica counter tops for a living. Their lifestyle now enjoyed a radically different type of party (much more fun, if you ask me).
I have vague memories of getting out the china, silver and stemware for very fancy events, some when I was tiny and others when I was older. I have good memories of my mother very carefully handing me one of these precious treasures and watching me as I tiptoed with it to the table, both of us holding our breath the whole time.
After many years collecting dust in a closet of my childhood home, all of the china and silver found its way to my dining room. My Mom generously shared these special things with me, and I was so incredibly grateful. However, I don't really use them any more than my Mom did.
While my mother did an amazing job of teaching me proper etiquette and which fork goes with which course, she did an equally amazing job of teaching me that people are more important than things. God has continued to teach me that lesson since I've left my mother's home. Through the years, I've had the opportunity to share these lovely items with many people who host special occasions and need a pretty table to show their guests how much they mean to them.
Today, as I polished the silver and wrapped it up carefully in the hand-sewn silvercloth pouches my mother custom made for each piece, I thought about the reasons she bought these items, the reason we both kept them, and what they've really meant in our lives. The truth is, right now I just don't have anywhere to store these material things. I also feel rather guilty even having them. They are SO nice and are such a luxury. But...they were my Mom's.
My Mom and I are now estranged. I left my childhood religion, and that religion requires shunning when someone leaves. I've come to terms with that, but it doesn't make me love my Mom any less. These precious, unnecessary, luxurious items are a connection to my mother. When I polish these pieces, I'm transported back to a time when we were close, and that makes me happy. I think its okay to keep them.
I stood at the sink for a couple of hours rubbing off the tarnish on the silver tea pots and trays and bowls and candle sticks, and decided I did need to get rid of some of it..but not all. I will keep some. As I buffed out the dark spots on the surface, I heard a song on the radio that made me think of all of my female friends who feel the same pressure I do to "be" what our culture says we should be...to have the things we're supposed to have...to look the way we're supposed to look. It made me think of my Mom and all that pressure she felt to be the perfect Navy wife, and my concerns with what people will think of me if they know I have such fancy material things, and my daughters who want to meet Mr. Right and one day have homes where they can have pretty things handed down from their mother and grandmother. I think of my friends who lost things in divorces and feel the pressure of providing for themselves. I think of the ladies in Honduras who have to sell themselves just to eat.
Anyway...this song (the CLEAN version, mind you) made me think of all the pressure that's been heaped on women, and how we just don't have to accept it. Our Heavenly Dad is crazy about us, and we need to remind each other of that every chance we get. So, here's to you, ladies! (BTW, I know this was originally done by Pink, but these two are really, really good!)
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Freedom isn't Free
"Freedom isn't free." Its a phrase most of us have heard, and each of us has our own understanding of how it applies to our lives. Some think of friends and loved ones who gave their lives to defend the rights afforded Americans in our Constitution. Others think of the Cross, and the price Christ paid for our right relationship with the Father. Right now, I'm thinking about my puppy and earthly belongings.
It all sounded like such a simple plan when we opened our hearts and minds to the concept of answering God's call to ISCA. We were going to "downsize" and move into the ministry home. Straight-cut and easy, right? It is proving to be very difficult.
I would like to be able to say, "I hold everything loosely and am willing to give up everything for Christ." But looking into the eyes of my little Sophie and knowing that I might actually have to relinquish her completely to someone else...I recognize the strong hold earthly things still have on my heart. I don't think its wrong to love my sweet puppy so much, however, I know that questioning going into ministry because of my attachment to a dog is foolish, doubtful, mistrustful, and just a symptom of a bigger struggle.
I want it all. I want to continue living the American dream of working hard and enjoying the reward AND obedience to Christ. In my heart, I believe that is true freedom: to love Jesus, and do whatever I want.
But God never once promised that in Scripture. He always promised struggle, difficulty, hardship for His sake. Freedom always requires death...Christ on the Cross, soldiers in battle, and my heart to this world.
So, I look at my lovely home and the beautiful things we've worked so hard to obtain (even though each and every one of these things is a gift from God), and I pray that God will give me the strength to let them go. I pray that God will allow us to break free from the chains of materialism and to no longer live a life of slavery to our mortgage. I pray that we will no longer be imprisoned by our blessings, but will be free to say "YES" to whatever the Father asks. (I pray I'll get to visit my Sophie)
Freedom isn't free, but it is right there, ready for me to drop everything and grasp it with both hands...hands I can raise in praise to the one who made me free!
It all sounded like such a simple plan when we opened our hearts and minds to the concept of answering God's call to ISCA. We were going to "downsize" and move into the ministry home. Straight-cut and easy, right? It is proving to be very difficult.
I would like to be able to say, "I hold everything loosely and am willing to give up everything for Christ." But looking into the eyes of my little Sophie and knowing that I might actually have to relinquish her completely to someone else...I recognize the strong hold earthly things still have on my heart. I don't think its wrong to love my sweet puppy so much, however, I know that questioning going into ministry because of my attachment to a dog is foolish, doubtful, mistrustful, and just a symptom of a bigger struggle.
I want it all. I want to continue living the American dream of working hard and enjoying the reward AND obedience to Christ. In my heart, I believe that is true freedom: to love Jesus, and do whatever I want.
But God never once promised that in Scripture. He always promised struggle, difficulty, hardship for His sake. Freedom always requires death...Christ on the Cross, soldiers in battle, and my heart to this world.
So, I look at my lovely home and the beautiful things we've worked so hard to obtain (even though each and every one of these things is a gift from God), and I pray that God will give me the strength to let them go. I pray that God will allow us to break free from the chains of materialism and to no longer live a life of slavery to our mortgage. I pray that we will no longer be imprisoned by our blessings, but will be free to say "YES" to whatever the Father asks. (I pray I'll get to visit my Sophie)
Freedom isn't free, but it is right there, ready for me to drop everything and grasp it with both hands...hands I can raise in praise to the one who made me free!
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Psalm 63
For a bunch of different reasons, our family has decided to take a break from our regular worship service on Sunday and visit other worship services for the summer. Its kinda weird going to church where I was the administrator for a couple of years, but I'm not involved in any of the day-to-day operations anymore. We also want to start networking for ISCA...meet people in other congregations and make sure international students are on their radar screen. So, we're taking a couple of months off and will be back to our regular programming in September.
There is nowhere else on the planet that I feel closer to God than in His natural cathedral, so we decided to kick off the summer with a family hike out to Hawksbill Crag. We'd seen pictures of this glorious site, but had never made the trek ourselves.
The hike to the crag is mostly downhill for @ 1.5 miles. We got out to the crag, and had it all to ourselves for at least an hour. We took pictures, admired God's creation, talked and prayed about what this new ministry will mean to our family. We discussed the very real enemy who doesn't want us to reach these international students. One way he'll try to wear us down is through our relationships with each other, so we determined to set aside one hour per week to talk and pray together after dinner. It was such a sweet time.
Then came the hike back. I'm not sure any of us really understood just how hot it was going to be that day. The hike back was uphill the whole way, and we had underestimated just how much water we would need. Eric and Claudia moved ahead of us quickly, and Eric asked for the keys, so they could get into the car at the top of the hill. Rick and I trudged our way back up the mountain, taking several pitstops along the way. We ran out of water, and were seriously sucking wind when we approached the top. Both of us were chanting, "Water...water!" as we spied the car.
But the kids were nowhere to be seen, and the car was locked.
It is not beyond the realms of possibility for Eric to hide and make us search for him, but that made no sense given the water and A.C. were in that car. We called for the kids with no response. Rick and I spotted a cooler in the bed of a pick up truck, and were incredibly tempted to see if there was any water we could "borrow." Finally, we heard the kids coming. They had taken a wrong turn and had to loop around. We were all completely parched. We were so thirsty that we even drank some of the melted ice in the cooler!
On the drive back, I promised a double scoop of ice cream to whoever could find the verse in the Bible that talked about God being like water in a dry and weary land. After several attempts, we came across Psalm 63. We decided this would be our "go-to" verse when things get tough. We'll think back and remember how we couldn't wait to get that car open and have some water, and recall that we need to feel that same way about our Father. Only when we thirst for Him in the same way we craved that water will we be on the right path...nothing else matters but our relationship with Him and His glory. (BTW, Claudia won the ice cream, but she offered it to Eric...so of course I go them both a double scoop : )
There is nowhere else on the planet that I feel closer to God than in His natural cathedral, so we decided to kick off the summer with a family hike out to Hawksbill Crag. We'd seen pictures of this glorious site, but had never made the trek ourselves.
The hike to the crag is mostly downhill for @ 1.5 miles. We got out to the crag, and had it all to ourselves for at least an hour. We took pictures, admired God's creation, talked and prayed about what this new ministry will mean to our family. We discussed the very real enemy who doesn't want us to reach these international students. One way he'll try to wear us down is through our relationships with each other, so we determined to set aside one hour per week to talk and pray together after dinner. It was such a sweet time.
Then came the hike back. I'm not sure any of us really understood just how hot it was going to be that day. The hike back was uphill the whole way, and we had underestimated just how much water we would need. Eric and Claudia moved ahead of us quickly, and Eric asked for the keys, so they could get into the car at the top of the hill. Rick and I trudged our way back up the mountain, taking several pitstops along the way. We ran out of water, and were seriously sucking wind when we approached the top. Both of us were chanting, "Water...water!" as we spied the car.
But the kids were nowhere to be seen, and the car was locked.
It is not beyond the realms of possibility for Eric to hide and make us search for him, but that made no sense given the water and A.C. were in that car. We called for the kids with no response. Rick and I spotted a cooler in the bed of a pick up truck, and were incredibly tempted to see if there was any water we could "borrow." Finally, we heard the kids coming. They had taken a wrong turn and had to loop around. We were all completely parched. We were so thirsty that we even drank some of the melted ice in the cooler!
On the drive back, I promised a double scoop of ice cream to whoever could find the verse in the Bible that talked about God being like water in a dry and weary land. After several attempts, we came across Psalm 63. We decided this would be our "go-to" verse when things get tough. We'll think back and remember how we couldn't wait to get that car open and have some water, and recall that we need to feel that same way about our Father. Only when we thirst for Him in the same way we craved that water will we be on the right path...nothing else matters but our relationship with Him and His glory. (BTW, Claudia won the ice cream, but she offered it to Eric...so of course I go them both a double scoop : )
Out on the crag, surrounded by so much beauty, I couldn't help but sing,
O Lord my God,
When I in awesome wonder
Consider all the world Thy Hand hath made,
I see the stars,
I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy pow'r throughout
The universe displayed...
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Sign is in the Yard!
Holy Cannoli! There's a for-sale sign in my yard! Oh sure, we've been doing all the "get ready to sell your house" stuff. We've gone through every nook and cranny in the house looking for crap to try to sell to someone else who doesn't really need it either. We've had the yard sale (which really is the most bizarre custom. Let's get real here: Who decided taking all the junk from your house and putting it on your lawn, inviting strangers to come rifle through it was good behavior for civilized society? I drew the line at the old bra's and underwear. Just couldn't handle the idea of my neighbors handling my delicates on the lawn.) We got a storage unit and have stored away all of the "unnecessary" furnishings and personal decorations...which begs the question, if it's unnecessary, why do we still have it?! We've scrubbed, stripped, touched-up, torn down, filled in, and rearranged every square inch of this house.
Yet, I don't think any of this was real until that sign was hammered into our front lawn. There it sits...a visual reminder that our lives are about to radically change.
I am in no way doubting that becoming the housing managers for ISCA is the right decision. Last night we received the official invitation to take the position. Kevin Smith and the Skinners (current housing managers) both related their stories of how God worked to bring us to ISCA. It is abundantly clear that this is all His doing.
No...I'm not doubting that God wants us there. I think I'm doubting that I'm worthy...yeah, that's it...I am so incredibly unqualified to be used this way. I am just not holy enough. Let's look at the facts:
1. Sometimes, I just don't get up early and have a quiet time.
2. I regularly get distracted during prayers, and have a very hard time sitting still for those long, extended prayer times that truly holy people engage in.
3. I like a lot of secular music.
4. I've been known to tell an off-color joke every now and then...and I laugh way too loud when I hear them, too
5. I have also been known to have a glass of wine, and the occasional margarita (and fuzzy navel, and mud slide, and srewdriver, and...)
6. Sometimes I get down right ticked off and think (and will actually voice) unkind and judgmental thoughts.
7. (And this one's the clincher) I really, really, really don't like bread dipped in grape juice. In fact, it makes me gag.
I am so scared of messing up. I am terrified of not being or doing the right thing. I'm just a weak, frail girl who makes lots of mistakes...and its going to be obvious that I don't know how to do this.
Thank God that HE is my strength, and I can only do this through HIM. This will definitely not be me...its all Him.
And I can see that my hands are trembling, I can see that my legs are weak
I can see that my head is spinning, but I will overcome
And I know that my heart is hurting, And I know that my soul it aches
And I know that it seems I'm failing, but I will overcome, yeah
Chorus:
O Lord I'm strong in You, O Lord I am wise in You
O Lord I can see in You, so I will overcome
O Lord I'm loved by You, O Lord I am free in you
O Lord I'm complete in You
So I will overcome, I will overcome, I will overcome
Bridge:
God listen to me shout, I'm so far from anywhere and I'm calling out
Lead me, lead me to the rock that is higher than I
You're my breath, You're my breath, You're my very life
Infinite, Holy King meets weak and frail Christ in me
And I will overcome not by my strength but by Your grace and love
Yet, I don't think any of this was real until that sign was hammered into our front lawn. There it sits...a visual reminder that our lives are about to radically change.
I am in no way doubting that becoming the housing managers for ISCA is the right decision. Last night we received the official invitation to take the position. Kevin Smith and the Skinners (current housing managers) both related their stories of how God worked to bring us to ISCA. It is abundantly clear that this is all His doing.
No...I'm not doubting that God wants us there. I think I'm doubting that I'm worthy...yeah, that's it...I am so incredibly unqualified to be used this way. I am just not holy enough. Let's look at the facts:
1. Sometimes, I just don't get up early and have a quiet time.
2. I regularly get distracted during prayers, and have a very hard time sitting still for those long, extended prayer times that truly holy people engage in.
3. I like a lot of secular music.
4. I've been known to tell an off-color joke every now and then...and I laugh way too loud when I hear them, too
5. I have also been known to have a glass of wine, and the occasional margarita (and fuzzy navel, and mud slide, and srewdriver, and...)
6. Sometimes I get down right ticked off and think (and will actually voice) unkind and judgmental thoughts.
7. (And this one's the clincher) I really, really, really don't like bread dipped in grape juice. In fact, it makes me gag.
I am so scared of messing up. I am terrified of not being or doing the right thing. I'm just a weak, frail girl who makes lots of mistakes...and its going to be obvious that I don't know how to do this.
Thank God that HE is my strength, and I can only do this through HIM. This will definitely not be me...its all Him.
And I can see that my hands are trembling, I can see that my legs are weak
I can see that my head is spinning, but I will overcome
And I know that my heart is hurting, And I know that my soul it aches
And I know that it seems I'm failing, but I will overcome, yeah
Chorus:
O Lord I'm strong in You, O Lord I am wise in You
O Lord I can see in You, so I will overcome
O Lord I'm loved by You, O Lord I am free in you
O Lord I'm complete in You
So I will overcome, I will overcome, I will overcome
Bridge:
God listen to me shout, I'm so far from anywhere and I'm calling out
Lead me, lead me to the rock that is higher than I
You're my breath, You're my breath, You're my very life
Infinite, Holy King meets weak and frail Christ in me
And I will overcome not by my strength but by Your grace and love
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Military Intelligence
In the midst of everything going on in our lives, our second son has been attending the University of Arkansas and has been part of the Air Force ROTC program. He turned down a rather hefty band scholarship, that he was awarded due to his incredible saxophone skills, in order to pursue a scholarship with the AFROTC. He also changed his major from music composition to computer engineering, hoping this would also help him obtain the scholarship and better serve his dream of serving as an officer in the US Air Force.
In January, Eric found out that he was approved for the scholarship. He was so excited, and I was so happy for him. Of course, he had to go through the routine physical and background check. No problem, right?
Wrong.
When Eric was young, he would get a rash on the inside of his elbows and knees. It usually occurred when it was hot outside. As any good mother would do, I took him to the doctor. It was treated and cleared up quickly. It recurred a couple of time, so we'd treat it again, and it would go away again. After age 11, he has had no recurrences at all.
Because of this history, Eric was denied the scholarship and was told that he was not approved for military service. He applied for a waiver, which was also denied.
Today, his commanding officer told him it was over. He was not going to be able to pursue his dream of serving his country in the military.
I am upset, of course, because it always hurts to see your child's dreams taken away. I'm also upset because of just how stupid this is. They give fully automatic weapons to young men and women with severe mental health diagnoses and ship them off to other countries. They put lots of men and women in harms way every single day...I mean, lets get real: the threat of someone shooting off a limb seems a little more serious than the threat of a rash.
But here's the cool part. When I asked Eric how he was doing, he said he was okay. The summer of 2013 had been slated for his basic training. Now that he knows next summer is free, he plans to be an intern in Honduras with Mercy International. In his disappointment, he turned to Christ and to service.
I couldn't be more proud and pleased if he was a four star general.
So, even though I think the military pulled a seriously bone-headed move by denying themselves an amazing young leader, I know God has a perfect plan for him, and I'm so excited to watch it unfold.
In January, Eric found out that he was approved for the scholarship. He was so excited, and I was so happy for him. Of course, he had to go through the routine physical and background check. No problem, right?
Wrong.
When Eric was young, he would get a rash on the inside of his elbows and knees. It usually occurred when it was hot outside. As any good mother would do, I took him to the doctor. It was treated and cleared up quickly. It recurred a couple of time, so we'd treat it again, and it would go away again. After age 11, he has had no recurrences at all.
Because of this history, Eric was denied the scholarship and was told that he was not approved for military service. He applied for a waiver, which was also denied.
Today, his commanding officer told him it was over. He was not going to be able to pursue his dream of serving his country in the military.
I am upset, of course, because it always hurts to see your child's dreams taken away. I'm also upset because of just how stupid this is. They give fully automatic weapons to young men and women with severe mental health diagnoses and ship them off to other countries. They put lots of men and women in harms way every single day...I mean, lets get real: the threat of someone shooting off a limb seems a little more serious than the threat of a rash.
But here's the cool part. When I asked Eric how he was doing, he said he was okay. The summer of 2013 had been slated for his basic training. Now that he knows next summer is free, he plans to be an intern in Honduras with Mercy International. In his disappointment, he turned to Christ and to service.
I couldn't be more proud and pleased if he was a four star general.
So, even though I think the military pulled a seriously bone-headed move by denying themselves an amazing young leader, I know God has a perfect plan for him, and I'm so excited to watch it unfold.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Transformation
"The Christian life is about transformation not transactions." That sounds so simple and so basic. So why is it so difficult for me to get my brain wrapped around it?
So often when I start thinking about the events in my life and the way I think they should play out, deep down in my psyche I wonder if God is happy enough with me to make things turn out the way I want them to.
When things are going well, in my heart of hearts I believe that I have been doing things right. I've been having my quiet time. I've been praying. I might have even done something really nice for someone else.
I'm probably alone in this, but when times are tough, I find myself secretly thinking, "Okay, God, I know there's a lesson that I'm supposed to be learning. Please help me learn it quickly, so I can move out of this yuckiness and get back to the blessings."
If I want God to do something, my first thought is, "What do I need to be doing?"
I'm all about the transactions.
The truth is, the only thing I bring to the table in my relationship with God is need. All He wants...all He has ever wanted...is relationship. He has never asked me for anything, yet true faith requires I give Him everything. Its not a formula: Give God All + Share God's Blessings = Happy Life. Its more like this: God Gave All x God Blessed Us = Eternal Life. Even that doesn't really convey how little I have to do with it.
I pray that one day I will look around at my life, whether it is a time of comfort or pain, and rather than first think, "I was good or not good" I will say, "God is good....and I have to tell people about it." I want to be transformed.
So often when I start thinking about the events in my life and the way I think they should play out, deep down in my psyche I wonder if God is happy enough with me to make things turn out the way I want them to.
When things are going well, in my heart of hearts I believe that I have been doing things right. I've been having my quiet time. I've been praying. I might have even done something really nice for someone else.
I'm probably alone in this, but when times are tough, I find myself secretly thinking, "Okay, God, I know there's a lesson that I'm supposed to be learning. Please help me learn it quickly, so I can move out of this yuckiness and get back to the blessings."
If I want God to do something, my first thought is, "What do I need to be doing?"
I'm all about the transactions.
The truth is, the only thing I bring to the table in my relationship with God is need. All He wants...all He has ever wanted...is relationship. He has never asked me for anything, yet true faith requires I give Him everything. Its not a formula: Give God All + Share God's Blessings = Happy Life. Its more like this: God Gave All x God Blessed Us = Eternal Life. Even that doesn't really convey how little I have to do with it.
I pray that one day I will look around at my life, whether it is a time of comfort or pain, and rather than first think, "I was good or not good" I will say, "God is good....and I have to tell people about it." I want to be transformed.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Forgive and Protect
What does it really mean to forgive someone seventy times seven times? I mean seriously...what does that look like? At what point do you say to yourself, "Enough is enough."
And what about the whole "forgive and forget" thing? How does that work? At what point does thoughtless, hurtful behavior turn the corner and become abuse? And when do you remove yourself from the path of an abuser?
I understand the freedom of forgiveness. I've heard all the catchy little phrases, and seen all the pictures about it on facebook. I realize I am the one who benefits by forgiving someone who has hurt me. It isn't really for the person by whom I've been wronged.
I am also in touch with my own sin and my need for forgiveness. I've memorized the Lord's Prayer, too, and I get that I'm to forgive as I have been forgiven. However, I'm not really certain my loving Heavenly father really wants me to keep putting myself in the position to be hurt over and over and over.
I have taken several "spiritual gift" tests and I always score very high on the Mercy scale. I do forgive a lot, and usually quite quickly, but that doesn't mean I don't question this as well. I have some folks I am in the process of forgiving, but I just don't know if I want to forgive and forget this time. Maybe its time to forgive and protect instead?
And what about the whole "forgive and forget" thing? How does that work? At what point does thoughtless, hurtful behavior turn the corner and become abuse? And when do you remove yourself from the path of an abuser?
I understand the freedom of forgiveness. I've heard all the catchy little phrases, and seen all the pictures about it on facebook. I realize I am the one who benefits by forgiving someone who has hurt me. It isn't really for the person by whom I've been wronged.
I am also in touch with my own sin and my need for forgiveness. I've memorized the Lord's Prayer, too, and I get that I'm to forgive as I have been forgiven. However, I'm not really certain my loving Heavenly father really wants me to keep putting myself in the position to be hurt over and over and over.
I have taken several "spiritual gift" tests and I always score very high on the Mercy scale. I do forgive a lot, and usually quite quickly, but that doesn't mean I don't question this as well. I have some folks I am in the process of forgiving, but I just don't know if I want to forgive and forget this time. Maybe its time to forgive and protect instead?
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Moving Along!
We are moving ever closer to the next step with ISCA ministries! The campus minister, Kevin, sent us his most recent update letter, and it contains an excellent description of what ISCA does. So, for those of you who have wondered just what in the world we're getting ourselves into, maybe this will answer some questions.
Last night we attended the summer prayer and Bible study meeting in the ISCA house. Its was amazing! Such cool people and fantastic discussion. Can't wait for more.
Last night we attended the summer prayer and Bible study meeting in the ISCA house. Its was amazing! Such cool people and fantastic discussion. Can't wait for more.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
I will not let that bitter root grow
Sometimes I just don't have the words to describe how I feel. This song does.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
"Fry Yourself a Pound of Bacon"
In order to prepare for our next step in this crazy life-long faith journey, we've been going through our piles of stuff...all of it: that little closet back in the corner of the house; the scary, dark, spider-filled spaces in the attic under the eaves; the dustbunny colonies under the beds...
In every little nook and cranny I find memories, and its made me a bit homesick for the Lowcountry of South Carolina. When this mournful longing hits, I have no choice but to shell some shrimp and fry some bacon. You see, all the best recipes in my hometown of Ravenel, SC start with "Fry yourself a pound of bacon." MMMMmmmm! Makes me smile just thinking about it.
So, here's my very favorite cure for the Lowcountry blues:
Red Rice and Shrimp
1 lb of GOOD bacon (not the cheap stuff, splurge on the Hormel black label or the Oscar Meyer center cut)
2 lbs of jumbo shrimp (raw, shelled and deveined)
2 cups of Uncle Ben's converted rice (it makes a difference. You want the pieces of rice to stand alone and not get clumpy. UB's is the best for that.)
28 oz. can of petite diced tomatoes in juice (you want the juice, so don't drain it)
1 box of chicken broth
Salt and Pepper to taste
In a big skillet with a tight fitting lid, fry yourself a pound of bacon (big smile). Remove the bacon to a paper towel to drain. Add the shrimp to the bacon drippings and fry just until the shrimp is opaque (pink and white). Don't over cook it. Remove shrimp to the towel with the bacon.
(I cut the bacon into three pieces per strip, and I make sure I make enough bacon and shrimp so I can "test" a few pieces while I cook the rice. Best to make sure its good, you know!)
Add the two cups of rice to the remaining bacon and shrimp drippings, over medium heat saute the rice until it begins to turn opaque white and golden brown. Don't let it scorch! Stir it constantly.
(My cell phone takes yucky pictures, but if you look closely you can see some solid white pieces of rice in there. They won't all turn white, though. Once you see a few pieces of white, add the liquid. You will be tempted to drain some of the grease. Fight the urge. Its SO much yummier when it clogs your arteries.)
Next stir in the tomatoes in juice and the box of broth. Stir a bit and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Once its got a good boil rolling, turn down the heat to medium-low and put on the tight lid. Don't touch that lid for at least 25 minutes.
(I like to use a pan with a glass lid, so I can just spin the lid and see how its going inside the pan. If you don't have a glass lid, wait at least 25 minutes and then take a super quick peak inside. You want to see holes in the rice with just a little bit of bubbling in the holes. I know that sounds like a crazy description, but you'll recognize this when you see it. Check it every five minutes to see if you have slightly bubbly holes. It usually takes 30-40 minutes. DO NOT STIR THE RICE!!! If it gets a little extra done on the bottom, it'll have yummy crispy bites in it...but you don't want black bits!)
Once the rice is cooked, stir in the bacon and shrimp you still have (after "sampling") and heat through. Some folks like the bacon crumbled, but since I cut it before I cook it, I like the big pieces.
There are a couple of crazy good side dishes I serve with this:
Green Bean and Benne Salad
Green Beans cooked with pork fat
Layonnaise Squash
Also, you simply cannot eat this meal without real Sweet Tea...not a mix...not with Splenda...and certainly not that nasty brown water called "unsweet" tea...GAG! You simply have to brew it in a pan on your stove top and let the sugar dissolve in the boiling water first. There is NO substitute.
And, because my life always has a soundtrack, you need some good old southern rock in the background. Lynyrd Skynyrd, Charlie Daniels, or my all time fave, The EAGLES!
ENJOY!
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