What Really Matters?

Like many parents before me, I have found the challenge of handing over the reins to my young adults emotionally challenging. Too much to fast, too little too late--it all depends on the child and the situation. 

Early this Fall as I started processing the ending of this chapter of parenthood and the beginning of another, I became a bit Ecclesiastical. In my exhaustion and cynicism I wondered if intentional parenting doesn't guarantee a result, what has all our investment been for? The temptation for a person who has long believed that everything matters is to swing wildly to the other side. What if nothing matters? 

I had the privilege over the last couple of weeks to read my Seniors' college admission essays. It has been a gift to read how they define themselves--especially what moments from their adolescence they determined to be transformative. Frankly, the big memories I tried to engineer aren't their watershed moments. Instead, it has been the more mundane, organic moments they cite as formative. 

So, I have arrived at this: You don't get to know in advance what matters down the road. 

Parenting, it seems, is a lot like throwing mud against the wall. Some sticks, but you can't predict what. So we sling love, hurl encouragement, and fling opportunities against the sturdy wall of our secure bond. Then, we wait to see what stays. 

Thanks to my blog hobby, I have my own version of some of my children's essay topics. Unsuprisingly, my perspective in the moment differs slightly from their recollection years later. A nod to Ecclesiastes 3: 11 "He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom the work God has done from beginning to end. "

These blog posts reveal my own sanctification in the process of my children's formation. As a result, I can say with confidence that none of it is meaningless. God is always at work in the "unadorned pots of our everyday lives" (2 Corinthians 4:7)

To Him be the Glory!

Because It Should Be Real for Us Too

Monday morning after dropping my children off for their first day of school, I celebrated by sitting down and lingering over a second cup of coffee. After writing a blog post, I clicked over to get reengaged in US/world events. As much as I profess to not want to live in a bubble, Summer break can become just that for a stay-at-home mother, as time limitations require that most of my news be gathered from 140 characters on twitter. It is restful, precisely because it is not real life.

You can imagine my shock as I started to read about Michael Brown and Ferguson, Missouri. I don't live there. I live in a small town in Georgia. My house is on a street that is 100% white. The country club is literally my back yard, but one street over an aged neighborhood begins that stretches about 20 blocks of 95% African American residents. I drive twelve minutes round trip to school every morning and afternoon, through this neighborhood where foot traffic is the norm. As much as I love a good metaphor, it is not lost on me that I pass dozens people of color watching, waiting on the bus or walking, while driving a white Suburban that cost as much as the average home on these streets.

This is my neighborhood. I wave at some of the regulars and on my return trip home in the morning I sometimes pray for various ones as I pass. I vote at the baptist church that sits right in the center and am privileged to know their amazing pastor. His daughter is one of my dearest friends. I've been blessed to attend a worship service there...a vanilla sprinkle in a chocolate sea of praise. And not one iota of this is an attempt at activism. (Frankly, I have hesitated to even write about this because of fear that my intentions would be questioned or misconstrued.)

But Monday, after reading, watching and thinking I couldn't help but wonder, "Could my town be a Ferguson?" Do my neighbors feel the anger, vulnerability and frustration these protesters feel? I called my friend, T. and told her I wanted to talk about it all when she was ready. I don't want to be ignorant to the challenges my friends and neighbors face.

While we can argue the various disputed issues of the Brown case, one thing is clear:  race issues are complicated, painful and still very real for many of our friends and neighbors. I have watched videos and read heartfelt posts from mothers of boys: both white and black. One of the most profound was a facebook post from a woman named Loris Adams in North Carolina. (I tried to link but can't.) She posted pictures with her son and described how terrified she was to realize her son had taken a shortcut while walking home that night which involved jumping a fence. Her thoughts went immediately to a place I cannot imagine.

"... because there is a target on his chest and I've trained him since birth to NOT invite red dots to train on that target. I'm MAD that I lost it on him, but I'd rather now than at a funeral.

Can you imagine the police response if some of my good neighbors had seen the boys, who were just going home? You can't? Let me help you see this picture - ‪#‎MikeBrown‬ ‪#‎TrayvonMartin‬ ‪#‎OscarGrant‬ ‪#‎JonathanFerrell‬

I would love my friends and colleagues who are not parents of a black child to understand the complexity of everyday life for those of us who are. I have the same concerns about gas prices and paying for a college education as you do, but that's topped by the gnawing fear - "is my boy next?"

EVERYDAY.

That's why I pray. That's why I march. That's why I push. That's why I teach...That's why you'll find me on my knees in my office. That's why I look so sad sometimes.

It's not news for me.
These are my sons.

These are my nephews. 

My brothers.
My friends.

This is real..."  -Loris N. Adams, via facebook

It is hard for me to imagine this reality. I thought of my children's friends, some of whom happen to have dark skin, the sons of my friends and the neighborhood children I see at the bus stop each day and I realized in its own way, this is real for me too. I gulped to realize there is even a landscaped roadblock at the end of my street...erected years ago to divide the neighborhoods.

I want to be more about bridges than barriers. In the same way we seek to understand the unique challenges faced by single parents, those with special needs, impoverished people--I want to be sensitive to the real fears and issues of Moms raising children of color.

Ironically (or not), the post I wrote Monday before tuning into the news was about loving our neighbors---Jesus described it as the second greatest commandment. While I am still sorting out exactly what that means as a Causasian housewife in the deep South, I know that as love so often does it starts with paying attention.

I can't 'fix' Ferguson, but I can be a caring friend and neighbor who prioritizes building bridges and relationships. I can listen. I can care. I can model that for my children.
So can you.

Looking to the Skies

Monday afternoon we intended to spend as long as possible out on the beach. It was the last night of our vacation and I am a sucker for sunsets.

The immense ocean and sky were reminders of the greatness of God. As the wind started to pick up we brought out a kite.

My super Dad spouse got everything set up and started a demonstration on how to operate a stunt kite. Then  he allowed K, P & R to try their hand at flying.

 

As you might imagine, there were crashes, tangles, frustrated tears and big goofy grins. 

I marveled at the metaphor of 'learning to fly' under the watchful eye of our Father. At this age and stage, they weren't quite ready for him to let them go it alone. He offered, but they clung to his guidance.

Ten years old is a sweet, sweet time.

I am so grateful for the gift of this Summer--the profound growth in these people (not so much in stature as in other ways) and the opportunity to be mindful right here in the thick of it. I still can't spot the magic in every moment. Truth is, most of life is very ordinary, stressful even a bit groundhog day-ish. Yet, if we look, there really are glimpses of glory--moments when I realize that God is working out their story and mine.

After all our joy, I heard thunder begin to rumble and spun around to see darkness moving in.

An ominous reminder of the dynamic, changing world in which we live. I thought about my post from earlier this week. All the struggle and darkness in Missouri, Iraq and even in my own neighborhood--people were hurting and oppressed under the very same sky my family was basking in.

I won't even pretend to understand it. 

But I will be grateful, tender and mindful. And like my children learning to fly the kite, I will watch and cling. 

(The storm clouds were my view of shore and the picture below was my view towards the horizon.)

God’s love is meteroic,
his loyalty astronomic,

His purpose titanic,

    his verdicts oceanic.

Yet in his largeness

    nothing gets lost;

Not a man, not a mouse,

    slips through the cracks.

How exquisite your love, O God!

    How eager we are to run under your wings...

You’re a fountain of cascading light,

    and you open our eyes to light. 
Psalm 36:5-9 The Message

Church

As we sat in the worship service this morning my heart felt like it might burst and yet completely at home and secure all at the same time. I experienced a huge involuntary exhale followed by a wide grin. My husband was holding my hand, worship music surrounded us and I tried to freeze it all as a tiny glimpse of the peace of heaven.

The funny thing is, I don't even remember what song was playing. My children were in various stages of slouch and mumbling much more than singing. I realized it had nothing to do with the lyrics or the momentary circumstances. It was, instead, a celebration in my heart of place, time, community and priority.

There is a lot said and written about church--what makes a good one or a bad one, the different types, the reason for it. People 'like' or 'dislike' styles, preachers, atmospheres, musical genres, times and locations...but this morning as I felt so alive, free and refreshed just being there I tried to pinpoint why.

No church is perfect. It is, afterall, a group of sinful people gathered in a space. But by virtue of seeking to know Him more and taking a collective pause from the world to praise God, it becomes sacred.

A few weeks ago my husband & I attended a great marriage enrichment retreat. For us, the most meaningful part of the weekend was an exercise in family vision setting. The facilitator gave us a worksheet that walked us through a process of discovering what we valued individually--and when we thought we were at our best as a team.

It surprised even me when I got to a question asking us to describe specific times and places where I felt best as a couple and one of the first things that came to mind was sitting in church during worship music. As I sought to explain why, I realized it is because on Sunday mornings my priorities are in order. In a dark room, surrounded by community, singing the truth of who God is--we are sequestered from noise and distraction, focused on what is most important.

I love the picture of my eyes looking up (to the screens), my lips professing what I believe (through song), my ears hearing others with a unified voice (singing the same lyrics) while holding hands with my partner.

Truly, everything else falls into place in that moment--largely because there is no room for insignificant worry or thought when our focus is right.

God is the head and the body takes its proper place under Him.

Alas, at 9:55 we are released and walk down the corridor into the bright light of 'real world.' We will scatter to places with competing voices and crowded schedules. But I pray we take with us the peace and perspective those sacred moments bring.

I am so grateful for the church.

Giving vs Being Taken

"...there is a difference between giving something and having it taken from you. If you still count the things that you lost with resentment, then you did not give them. You need to let go of those things that you no longer have...Let go of that list. Lay them down. Give them freely. Don't count them as stolen." - Rachel Jankovic, Fit to Burst

I read this passage a couple of weeks ago and its implications have seeped into many parts of my life.
The concept is straightforward, but the challenge is deep. I had never thought about serving others quite so simply. In motherhood, marriage, friendship, work, ministry...am I really giving of myself or am I feeling taken?

When I am feeling frustrated at home or in other areas of my life it is astounding how often it comes back to this truth. I didn't really give that. I feel like my service/kindness/time was robbed.

In this world that tells us to fight for ourselves and look out for number one the Lord tells us He will fight for us--and that the One we follow took on the nature of a servant.


I am still working through how this looks practically in my life. I have a long way to go--so even baby steps of progress will be good. But this I know: I don't want to walk through life feeling wronged, used, stolen from or taken advantage of...No, I want the joy that comes from generous living.

The Lord hasn't called us to be martyrs. He's called us to a life of love and generosity. Let's stop counting the cost and keeping score and be free.

Watching Our Tone

I wasn't planning to write about this tonight, but as I discussed it with my husband over dinner K chirped, "Are you gonna put that on the blog, Mama?"
Once I got over the fact that my daughter is now offering editorial input, I asked if she thought I should.
"Definitely!" she replied.
So here you have it...content an 8 year old requested. :-)

I have been feeling increasingly convicted about the tone of voice I use with my children. Bothered by an unnecessary sharpness/bossiness in their tone, I realized I'm the source of this negative influence. I don't use words that insult or demean, but the way I convey my point likely does. It is not what I am saying, but how.

I have cringed at my own echo in my head while barking an order, correcting a mistake or expressing disapproval for an action/inaction. Simply put, when I paused long enough to think how I'd feel if someone who professed to love me spoke to me in the tone I sometimes use, I was humbled and embarrassed.

It's not hard to trace how it got to this point. When the babies were toddlers and unable to fully comprehend language or the rules of the world around them, tone was a great helper in my communication. A stern "No, Ma'am" or "No, Sir" was quite effective to correct behavior. Let's face it, when tired, frustrated, overwhelmed or outnumbered, it can be hard to breathe in, slow down and control the tongue.

I am no longer raising toddlers. Instead I am called to model godly living to a gaggle of bright 8 year olds. Their grasp of the English language and the world at large is exponentially greater than when I adopted tone as my primary tool for correction. They think, converse and reason. I have many other tools for discipline and instruction these days and they are more centered on their hearts.

While there is still a time and place for me to use my voice to drive home a point, it certainly doesn't need to continue as my default position. It's efficacy is diminished by overuse. People become defensive. We all wind up feeling badly. But despite my conviction, tone of voice is an old habit that dies hard.

This morning our pastor was preaching about sin and the human propensity to get stuck on behavior modification /morality and miss the root cause. It is a theory I have adopted in parenting--shepherding the heart--treating the disease not just the symptoms. But, when it comes to the world around me, I so often just want people to straighten up and act right! Keep their promises...Think about the implications their actions have on others....Stop being so self serving... Be kind and self controlled. (Even in my head as I type, my sharp, bossy, exasperated tone has taken over.)

I forget sometimes that these truths often transfer from parenting to marriage to friendship and the way we relate to the world. God's design for living applies to all of it. He commands us to love one another.

And just as my unloving tone towards folks I profess to adore within my home gives me pause, I can't help but wonder if this isn't a stumbling block for the non-Christian world at large. Have Christians unintentionally forgotten our tone? In our fear, overwhelm and exhaustion have we become bossy, disapproving and demanding in places where we should be speaking in love, joy, peace, kindness and goodness with gentleness and self control? Have we become so consumed with eradicating symptoms that we've forgotten it is the broader problem of sin in the world we truly oppose?

I don't intend to paint this with too broad a brush. I am not a theologian. I am just a Mama trying to love her family and glorify her God. For better of for worse, these thoughts gave me pause tonight (and my 8 year olds liked them too.)

As we were doing nightly tuck ins after this dinner conversation, P prayed:
"Dear God, will you please help me and Mom have more love in our voice?"
I echo his prayer.

When You Just Don't Know

My husband has been known to tease me with the observation that I am "never more confident than when absolutely wrong."

I might be offended if it weren't so often true. I am passionate, communicative and fallible.

Lately I find myself in a place of realizing just how much of life is not as simple and straightforward as my idealistic, younger, less experienced self once thought.

As I age (and hopefully mature) I find that really listening to people with grace and love, while remaining anchored to Truth is a delicate balance. It means I don't always have an answer right off the cuff...especially in the matters of most importance.

I am learning that walking away to think and pray requires more self control and maturity than simply responding emotionally in a knee jerk fashion. Sitting quietly in the moment when circumstances don't make sense, while personally uncomfortable, is often the most sensible and sensitive thing to do.

I am realizing that the most honest answer I can often give is that I just don't know--and it is hard. I am wired for understanding, for lessons, for a overarching theme to this life that good conquers evil and right always prevails over wrong. But sometimes in the fog of a situation, wisdom requires prayerful silence on an issue.

On a phone call late Sunday night, I could sense that my lack of a zealous answer disappointed the person on the other line. It was so tempting to fill the silence in order to win their approval.

I am learning that taking a step back from complicated issues doesn't automatically make me weak or foolish. With the right heart motive, it can instead be an indicator of relying on a strength beyond my own for wisdom. I am stumbling as I learn to walk, learning to consult my God a bit more rather than simply my feelings.

I have a steadfast faith that in the scheme of eternity God is definitely at work in this world. There is a large, grand story, but this Holy Week is a poignant reminder that it often fails to make sense in the immediate term. I keep thinking about the followers of Jesus and how confusing the week of His capture and crucifixion must have seemed. We know how the story ends, but how would it have felt to live it--likely much like it feels to live our lives in this broken world.

Snapshots in time can defy our human sensibilities--God's grand plan is unveiled little by little. This is why it is called faith.

I am reminded that it won't always make sense to the people around us who are watching and waiting for our response to trials--but it will bring peace.

Lord, I don't know what to do. My thoughts and feelings are confusing at times. I pray for the strength and courage to be still even when others seem to be demanding my response. I ask for wisdom and perspective that only You can give. You not only have the answers, You ARE the answer. Help me not to trust in my own volatile thoughts and feelings, but in faithful, unchanging You.

The Little Red Kia

My trio & I had a wonderful 24 hour getaway to see my parents last night. As we basked in gorgeous early Spring weather, there were riverfront hikes, rock skipping lessons from my Dad, backyard whiffle ball games and lots of laughter. This brief change of scenery was right on time! The last two weeks of illness and dismal weather had taken its toll. My somewhat lackluster heart for the world and its people was feeling refreshed as we loaded the car this afternoon for our 3 hour return trip home.

While the children watched a video, I enjoyed some quiet highway driving time. A thought-provoking quote from Paul Tripp was turning over in my heart and mind: "We're not people mechanics, we're ambassadors of Christ." I thought about the implications of this mentality in my life. I struggle with a desire to always want life to teach a lesson. I asked God to give me less 'fix it' and more grace and love for others. Then a little red Kia put me to the test.

For 2-3 miles this little car bothered me with its erratic antics. The female driver bobbed and weaved. She ran off the road and over corrected repeatedly. Even her speed was unpredictable--slowing down, speeding up, running up on the bumper of the car in front of her before slamming on her brakes. At one point I was in the lane directly to her left and saw that she was completely preoccupied by her phone. The equalizer in me took over. I honked my horn to get her attention and shot her a corrective Mama look. She barely glanced my way--unfazed.

I kept my distance and watched for another 3/4 mile or so as she continued to drive in a reckless manner. I went from concerned to angry, then called 911 and reported her. As I hung up the phone, I felt mildly vindicated.

My heart raced as I waited to see what would happen next. I was fearful she might cause an accident--but if I am honest, I also wanted to see her get caught. As we topped each hill on the divided highway I scanned the distance to see if she would be pulled over by a blue light. I realized that my desire for justice had all but crowded out my more defensible concern for highway safety.

I started out legitimately concerned. I even reached out to get her attention and try to restore her to law abiding driver. But when she rebuffed my help, the gloves came off.

It was a revealing (and ugly) glimpse into the heart of man--or at the very least this woman. I chuckled to myself...how quickly Ms. Grace flipped to Dr. Pharisee. This is how it happens, it seems. Time and again, grace-filled intentions shift to justice-seeking witch hunts. It is how Christians, especially, get a bad rap.

I thought about this erratic young driver. I used to be her. Seriously. I cringe when I recall my early driving years. At 18 I got a ticket for driving 101mph in a 55mph zone. (I know. Awful.) And while we didn't have texting to distract us in the early 90s, I would sometimes read while driving. (I KNOW!!)

Because I can put myself in her shoes, it is tempting to just shake my head and think...who am I to judge? I did it. It's that youthful sense of invincibility--an unfortunate right of passage, if you will. But the truth is, I have a right to judge. With age and life experience, my perspective has shifted. I now know better. I am painfully aware of the horrible damage her irresponsibility could inflict on someone else. She was breaking the law and putting others at risk. It is not just HER problem.

I think about the countless ways this struggle plays itself out over and over again in my life. What begins as an honest concern gets shifted to an adversarial situation. It is so easy for our legitimate desire for change to get clouded by a justice seeking mentality. It always seems to be rooted in fear for me--fear that if something doesn't change, someone is going to get hurt.

I recently heard a parenting lecture that urged listeners to side WITH your children AGAINST the sin that threatens to ensnare them. It seemed like advice that should be transferred to all of my relationships. How quickly we forget that in this world our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against the sin that seeks to kill and destroy. Oh that we might have grace to side with the sinner, against the sin.

But what do we do when the sinner cannot yet see their behavior as reckless and dangerous? What if they blow us off? What then? What is our responsibility on our interactions with others--especially when we feel justified in our anger? Or when our egos have been bruised? We must prayerfully surrender.

Because of her speed, I lost track of the little red Kia this afternoon. We were close to home. I feel fairly sure she did not get caught. I am grateful no one seemed to be hurt by her--and frankly, a little miffed that she got away with her irresponsibility without consequence. (Ugh. Ugly but true.)

Based on her bumper stickers, I realized she probably lives in my town. I mused briefly over what I would do if I ran into her in town again. Would I seize the opportunity to insert myself as a 'mechanic' in her life or to be an 'ambassador of Christ?' Suddenly, I didn't like that quote as much.

Three hours later, leaving our favorite Mexican restaurant, I saw the red Kia in the parking lot. I considered leaving her a note--lecturing her like the somewhat batty lady I am apparently becoming. I opted to let it go.

While our encounter didn't lead to a physical crash, she certainly impacted me with much food for thought and prayer.

Worried?

My heart has been heavy all day with the keen awareness that we are all carrying something. Our loads are real and heavy. This journey is long. We grow weary from the strain.

Our legitimate concern gives birth to fear which can suck the courage and faith right out of us.

What are you worried about right now?
Your marriage.
That debt. 
Those test results.
Him.
Her.
The temptation. 
Your job.
Their decision.
How to parent that child.
What they think.
That conversation.

Most of us know that anxiety and worry are not our friends. They are so often weapons of the Enemy. Yet, like a bad boyfriend we are sucked back in to the comfort they provide. 

As unchecked worries infiltrate our hearts and minds, we start making emotional decisions--not based on Truth, but as a consequence of our fear.  Wisdom takes a backseat to our panic.

This often quoted passage came to mind from Philippians and the fresh perspective of the Message translation was a powerful charge.

Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. 
Let petitions & praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. 
Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come & settle you down.
It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. 
Phil. 4:6-7 The Message

What if we gave up worry and fear for Lent? 
It is likely to be more challenging than chocolate, facebook or Diet Coke.
It would be true sacrifice for many of us to 'give up' our pet fears. To surrender to God the idols of our hearts--the things we cling to more than Him and fear losing the most.
 
What would our thought lives look like if we really believed God was Sovereign?
That His heart was for us and that He could be trusted?
How might we be changed if we spent as much time pondering His words as we do our worst case scenario what ifs?

He died that we might live...really live. In freedom and in trust, not the bondage of worry and fear. Why is it so hard for us to embrace the reality of that gift?

Bored & Misled

Yesterday morning around 6:15 P climbed in my bed for a snuggle. After a few quiet moments he said, "Mom, I figured out that I got the least of all the kids from Santa."

My foggy, early morning, pre-coffee brain was snapped to attention. Any parent of more than one child knows the stress of trying to insure things are perceived as equitable--and the challenge of that when individual children have different interests.

P in particular was difficult for Santa because he only really wanted one thing. A great deal of time and energy was devoted to finding a surprise gift that would insure an equitable distribution of gifts on Christmas morning...and yet, 6 weeks later, this is our predawn conversation.

My brain was reeling. My flesh wanted to be defensive. I was frustrated at what I perceived as a lack of gratitude. And yet, something about his tone (which really seems to be everything to me these days) did not indicate complaint as much as observation.

With one of those millisecond prayers of, "Lord, give me words" I responded.
"What? You each got three gifts from Santa."
"But R got Legos and a game..."
My brain was still too sleepy to start an inventory.
"Buddy, didn't you get what you really wanted?"
"Yes, I did," he cheerfully replied.
"Then why are we talking about this?"
"I think I am just bored."

From the mouths of babes, indeed.
I am just bored.
The words bounced around my heart and brain like a pinball.
The sting of comparison.
The hurt of being perceived as an inequitable parent--or a less gifted child.
A result of boredom.
 
In a moment of mind wandering, instead of reflecting on Christmas morning by counting his blessings, he chose instead to turn them into a scorecard. It became a game that he lost, rather than a day of unearned gifts.

And much like the 'gifts' we try to compare in life, this little recipient had no idea of the real costs, time spent and reasons behind the distribution. He simply had a snapshot in his mind of the end product and it didn't seem quite fair.

"Comparisons & gratitude occupy the same space in our hearts. The more of one, the less room there is for the other." Nicole Unice
 
I don't mean to make too much of it, but I dare not give it too little attention either. My 8 year old convicted me of a truth of our often pesky thought lives...boredom frequently gives birth to unhealthy thought patterns. Oh, how important to we submit our thoughts to God.

I don't know about you, but I can take all sorts of wrong turns in my brain that lead me to somewhat imaginary drama and hurt. It starts with  perception, an assumption or even a fear that I start to believe as truth. Like a wildfire this can wreak unnecessary havoc on my emotions and my relationships.

This morning I pray that every thought will be held captive, evaluated in the light of Truth before being allowed to take root in my heart and mind. I believe these captive thoughts will lead to a freer heart.

No Other Name

As a young woman growing up the Baptist church, I remember the first time I heard a story about someone successfully using the name of Jesus as her defense to an attacker. At the time, I recall it seemed radical (and perhaps even a bit voodoo-ish). So, a few weeks ago when a friend of mine posted this link it made me giggle. Can you imagine the look on this criminal's face when a bunch of Southern, jewelry clad women started shouting the name of the Lord at him?

Yet, perhaps as a sign of my age, I find that when I am in frightening situations it has become my 'go to' response. When a phone call comes with terrible news, on the terrifying windy roads of Honduras, in difficult conversations...all my mind and heart seem to be able to muster is His name.

When the words just won't come, I find my prayers simply being a cry for help that seems to not extend far beyond simply calling out. It is as if at the utterance of His name I remember who HE is--and who I am in Him. Perspective. Strength. Comfort. Peace.

Yesterday in church we sang familiar words:
"My heart will sing no other name,
Jesus. Jesus."

And even as the song played on, I was convicted. My heart does sing other names...even in challenging circumstances. And the one that gets me in the most trouble is my own.
My heart, in its natural stare, is looking out for number one. When unexpected news comes, when plans must change, when a child's behavior is unacceptable, when I don't get what I'd hoped, my heart tends to sing:
"Me, Me, Me. What about me? How will this effect poor, pitiful me..."

I was challenged to consider what it would look like if my heart song was less of Me and more of Him.

When no one notices the way I served my family.
When I feel unappreciated, overlooked or forgotten.
When other people's needs come before my own.
When a chapter of life doesn't develop according to my plan.

When my heart wants to sing a blues song that starts with the word Me, what would happen if it was surrendered to the Spirit and became a praise song with the word He?

I have a feeling my life would be more joyful, my responses more graceful and my soul would have much more peace.

He not Me.

On the Eve

Saturday night I was blessed to attend a special wedding. The bride was walking the aisle for the second time, although only in her mid twenties, having lost her first husband to cancer after only a year and half of marriage. The wedding celebration was a moving reminder of our grace-filled, second chance God.

The happy couple are in the precious stage of new, hopeful love, yet there was much about the ceremony that carried a far greater sense of 'knowing' than most weddings of young people are able to capture. When the bride got to the portion of her vows where she promised "...in sickness and in health, until death do us part" I got a lump in my throat. These were not just words she was repeating. This was a road she had actually walked. She knew the depth of her promise.

There was a sense of having been here...staring down the aisle and yet this is an entirely different season full of fresh wonder, hope and dreams...which brings me to New Year's Eve.

Although each moment of each day is an opportunity for a new beginning, the clean slate that a new year represents is hard to deny. The ball drops, new calendars are christened, gym memberships sky rocket, church attendance increases.

Year after year, on this day, we hope our hopes. We pray our prayers. We make our toasts and resolutions. From our hopeful perch on New Year's Eve, we don't know what 2013 will hold--any more than starry eyed couples know what 'for better or for worse' will really look like in their marriages.

A new year is a symbol of hope and faith. Will we make our own plans, force our own way or seek to find where God is at work and join Him there? I confess that it's most often the former, though I pray for growth and maturity that leads me to the latter.

I want to trust Him for His plans for this life--reserving comparison or judgment of how similar or different it may be for others. I want to respond to His plan for my unique life, the life I am married to, and the lives of the little ones I have been given to shepherd. Even though I get grumpy & blow it a lot, my heart's desire is for us to bring salt, light and the grace and love of God to wherever that may be on a given day.

It is especially symbolic this year, because 36 hours from now my family will be on foreign soil for a medical mission to Honduras that is not clearly defined. We aren't traveling with a group. My husband simply accepted a call from World Medical Missions to serve in a hospital that needs a surgeon. The children and I are following, because that's our call. So far, the children & I do not have any other assignment at all.

We are taking our broken Spanish, a suitcase of goodies and hopeful hearts. For the first time in a very long time my heart is at peace with much ambiguity. I am (somewhat surprisingly) joyfully expectant.

With a gulp of conviction I wonder why it takes "getting away" to get it. I pray the Lord will give me this same attitude of faith, trust and joyful expectancy about my far more predictable, control-riddled first world life the other 50 weeks of 2013.

We must love and trust the One we believe holds our futures. He's got this...this trip...this year...whatever other 'this' may be troubling your heart. May our greatest resolution be simply to trust the One who holds everything together, to guide us in the way we should go...all for His Glory.

Happy New Year!   

Whose Birthday Is It?

I have spent this rainy December morning in front of my laptop in a quiet house. For the last 90 minutes I have been pondering, researching and massaging my children's Christmas wish lists. Although our children delivered their letters to Santa Claus Thanksgiving week so we could move on to other things, it is now decision time. How much? Which ones? It has left me thinking a lot about what place Santa Claus has in our family's celebration of Advent & Christmas.

We like Santa in our house. He is not a bad guy. He brings love, hope and a generous spirit--not to mention the FUN!  There is nothing more exciting than watching the face of bed-headed children as they scramble down the stairs Christmas morning. It is the embodiment of the anticipation that Advent is about. There is an electric attitude of expectancy than we adults would do well to carry into each day God has given us.

But like all characters, Santa has his flaws. He makes vague promises and let's face it, his gifts are based on works. Christmas carols, exasperated parents and twinkly eyed strangers in the grocery store reinforce to our children that they better "be good"  if they want gifts.

In our home, Santa brings three things to each child to pay homage to the three gifts from the wise men. However, when my children delivered their 4-6 item wish lists to Santa this year, they were delighted to hear him say "If you behave, I will see about getting you everything on your list." It is bad theology and in opposition to what I hope to teach my children about life, but you'd better believe they have clung to that statement from the jolly old bearded man. They are being set up for disappointment. When there are only three things under the tree will they believe it was because they didn't 'earn' the rest? Ugh!

And this is where I have been stuck for the last 90 minutes. My children don't need everything on their list--no matter how 'good' their behavior happens to be. Some of the items they are asking for are simply overpriced, gimmicky junk. I know them each well enough to predict which gifts will leave them completely bored and unfulfilled. I also know things that would thrill them to no end, and they haven't even thought to ask for them.

It reminds me a lot of the way God deals with me. I bring Him my list of things I have seen others possess, that I want. I make requests for what I think will make me happy. But He knows my heart better than I do. He gives me gifts based on His perspective, not on mine. Some delight me, while others leave me feeling confused and/or disappointed.

God's 'yes'es aren't in direct proportion to my good behavior and His 'no's aren't a reflection of His lack of love for me. He gives good gifts to His children--for our growth and His glory. Contrary to what many of us seem to believe deep in our heart, God doesn't exist to rubber stamp our wish list after a careful evaluation of our behavior. Which brings me back to Santa Claus...

The real problem with Santa is that he perpetuates the consumer driven myth that Christmas is OUR birthday instead of Jesus'. (Major props to my friend Cabell for passing along this phrase. I had never heard it before.) So much of the refrain is 'what do YOU want for Christmas?' If you try to stop the cycle you are a Scrooge. There is such build up. So much time, money and energy is devoted to this month. It is fun to spend, give and make merry.

I love my children. I want them to be thrilled on Christmas morning. But every year when all the gift wrap is cleaned up, I look around my living room and feel a little nauseous and resolve that 'next year will be different.'

There are lots of programs, checklists and ideas already floating around the Internet about ways to lessen all the hype...but as I start to really think about implementing some of them the guilt creeps in. The month's schedule is already insane, I can't add another thing. Besides, this is childhood! It should be fun! Lighten up! It is just one month, you have eleven others to be serious. Don't steal joy from children who are too young to really get it! They will be old and overly analytical one day, for now just enjoy! And I wonder how much I have bought into it already. Why is it so hard to let go?

I don't have a neat 'bow' for this entry. I don't have an 'action plan.' But the longer I mull it over the more convinced I become that this is where God wants me...stepping back, being still, stripping it down in my heart, bringing it all to Him and allowing Him to give insight into how to keep the main thing the main thing around here. The bottom line is that it is Jesus' birthday and what He wants most is our hearts.

Thanksgiving in March

This morning as I went over the 'boring' list of housework on my agenda, I was reminded of Guatemala.

As I lament the dishes I need to wash and put away, I am grateful that my work is aided by a dishwasher with running water and electricity. I am thankful for the simple fact that I have cabinets to put my dishes in once they are clean. (I feel certain that's the first time I have paused to be thankful for kitchen cabinets.)

I think about the beds that need their sheets changed and am immediately reminded that I have sheets where my friends in Chitpey have only itchy blankets. I am grateful for the mattresses those sheets cover, remembering the hundreds I met who wake up each morning on wooden boards.

There are several loads of laundry that need to be put away. (Am I the only one whose dirty laundry doubles in the Spring thanks to sports and outdoor play?) I am challenged to remember that all that laundry signifies children healthy and strong enough to run and play. Even more simply, it was washed in an electric machine. We have clothing and shoes.

A trip to the grocery store this afternoon signifies that my husband and children don't have to worry about hungry bellies. I can fill my pantry with food I can afford to purchase (and did not have to work to grow). I have a refrigerator. By the grace of God, I am able to provide the nutrients my children need to grow.

My calendar says March, but this morning I feel like celebrating Thanksgiving. It is good to pause, pray and regain healthy perspective.

The daily monotony of housework is a reminder that I have a HOME and people God has entrusted to my care. I pray this thought will fill my heart with purpose and joy this morning. Now off the computer and on to tackle it!

Perspective

I am not sure if it comes with age, or is simply a season...but lately I feel very aware of the brokenness in this world. I don't say this as a pessimist--there are still so many incredible moments of life that leave me overwhelmingly grateful. Yet it seems that I am increasingly aware to be on my guard because things are not as they appear on the surface.

As I was pondering this tonight, I was reminded of the "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids" playground at Hollywood Studios in Orlando. It is designed in homage to the movie set and features 30 foot tall blades of glass, a maze of root systems, slides made from over sized strips of film, super sized cheerios and many other props.

My boys spent 45 minutes playing on it one morning and I had time to really examine the detail and the setting. My sons, on the other hand, were just in the moment. They never paused to look at the bigger picture. To me it was a creative work of art. To them it was just a fun playground.

I have been thinking a lot about life and perspective. As I watch people all around me make decisions and/or live out the consequences of their choices it becomes more and more clear that for life to mean anything at all the proper perspective is a must.

In the same way a 30 foot tall blade of grass doesn't make much sense out of context, many of the circumstances of our life can be equally confusing--unless we have the context of a Creator that knows the number of hairs on our head, a loving Father who sacrificed much for our souls, a Sustainer that promises us daily grace. In THAT context we begin to understand that while we may feel suddenly small and our scenery confusing and frightening, there is a larger story.

Would God go to such lengths to pursue us and put His Son on a cross for our salvation then turn around and torture us through this life? It doesn't make any sense.

I don't understand a lot about the way things go down in this world. My heart breaks a lot. The only explanation I have is that sin is ever present and we desperately need a Savior. We must focus our eyes not on the temporary circumstances, but on the ONE who holds the future.

It is so tempting to get bogged down, but He calls us to look up. He is our hope.

"Set your mind on things above, not on Earthly things." Colossians 3:2

Imitation

We had a great long weekend at Disney World, but tonight I am happy to be blogging from my comfy sofa in front of an exciting Alabama football game on television.

It was a joy to explore WDW for the first time sans strollers and with children tall enough to try rides they hadn't been able to experience before. I love watching the growth that seems to happen before my very eyes when they are out of their element and exploring new places.

My husband & I were especially entertained by watching our little thrill seeker, K, take on the big rides. Her favorites were Expedition Everest at Animal Kingdom, Test Track at Epcot, and Space Mountain at the Magic Kingdom. She did them all more than once with no fear, curls flying, huge grins and infectious giggles. That little girl takes life head on!

It was a great trip because through the power of Disney magic (sets, props, costumes, music, marketing) we got to feel like we'd been in the past, the future, foreign lands, underwater, space, a safari, inside fairy tales, cartoons and more. While I love watching my children grow and experience new things, I was reminded of the danger of thinking these imitations are the real thing.

It may seem like a stretch...but in the context of my 'real life' as we left it Thursday it is not. Just before we left I had coffee with a 19 year old friend of mine. She's a former resident of the group home that has lived a tough life and is now trying to transition to adulthood without ANY family support. As you might imagine this has really set her up for less than wise choices when it comes to male companionship. Out of respect for her privacy, I won't share details, but suffice it to say, she is in a situation that is far less than ideal. She and I spent the morning discussing the temptation to 'settle' for what will 'do' rather than what is best--especially for young women when it comes to love, security and relationships.

I shared with her a story about when I was in my early 20s--a recent college graduate--trying to feather my little nest. I really wanted a piece of furniture to hold my television. I had something in mind--a hardwood piece that would hopefully last for many years. The trouble was its cost exceeded my available funds. I would have to save for it for a few months and be content for my television to sit on the floor in the meantime.

I decided to save for the 'perfect piece'-- but every time I went to Walmart and saw a less expensive press board option that I could afford right now I was tempted to exhaust my meager savings for the temporary fix. In a rare moment of 22-year-old-me wisdom, I realized this choice meant I would have to start all over with my saving and that I might get so used to the temporary option I would give up on saving for 'the one.'

I explained to my young friend the parallel God revealed to me about things FAR MORE important than a silly piece of furniture...like purity, a godly marriage, debt, meaningful friendships...It was a lesson that made a huge impact on my life.

In the same way riding Mission Space is thrilling in the short term, it does not make my girl an astronaut. There are rarely shortcuts to the truest and most meaningful and rewarding parts of life. Yet, we live in a world that wants to give us charge us much for short-lived little tastes. Don't settle. Don't settle. Don't settle. Hold out for the life that is really life described in John 10:10.

And this is my prayer, especially for young women, because this message is heavy on my heart for you: Don't settle for a relationship that is less than God's best for you. Convenient, easy, comfortable are rarely the indicators God uses of His path for your life. Marriage is a covenant relationship. Sex was intended to be within that bond. It is far better to be single than to get nervous and make your own way. Trust Him. Wait for His best. Don't allow the Enemy to play on your emotions and tempt you to cling to things that are not from Him.

And lest I sound high and mighty--like I have somehow arrived--this truth extends to old ladies my age too. May I not link my life satisfaction to the next trip, the next purchase, feeling 'needed', fulfillment in status or imaginary lives in novels or tv shows...May God and His Plans for my little life be IT for me...and for you.

May the things of this world merely whet our appetite for the eternal rather than lead us to be satisfied by cheap substitutes. There's truly nothing like the real thing.

On Forgiveness

I woke up today on a mission...to get my home back in some semblance of order! My husband had the day off, but will be back full force tomorrow and on call 5 of the next 7 days--which means we will see very little of him. Additionally, our cousin Scott is having knee surgery tomorrow and will be staying with us for the first few days of his recovery. With the children home for school break our week is filled with activity.

As much as I hated to rush down the trees and pack up the decorations so soon, it seemed that if it didn't happen today it was going to be 2 more weeks. So, for five hours this morning I packed, purged, cleaned and organized. The really bright spot in our renovation process is that I have a HUGE dumpster in my driveway just begging me to chunk some things. :-)

There is something so therapeutic about getting things put into an orderly fashion. I love fresh starts, firsts, clean pages, new chapters, blank calendars...

It was at the end of this kind of day that I read Donald Miller's blog post on a different kind of purging, Forgiveness. I was particularly impacted by his comments regarding an old wrong he had committed against someone who would not forgive him. Donald Miller writes:

"I wondered why it was that this person simply couldn’t give me forgiveness. And I realized, when I put myself in their shoes, forgiveness was a lot to ask. Nobody deserves to be forgiven for what they’ve done. I’m not entitled to it, for sure. But these days, I’m grateful for being given forgiveness by some, and having it withheld makes me more willing to offer it. I don’t blame people for not forgiving. It’s hard, and frightening and it takes time and a lot of work, unfair work.

A friend describes forgiveness as the willingness to carry a burden somebody has given you without holding it against them any longer. I thought that was a good definition. Good but not easy."

I have never thought about it quite this way...Instead of resenting those who can't/won't choose not to forgive I should be more moved by the grace of those who find it within themselves to do the hard thing.

This seems an appropriate reflection in this season of packing up, restoring order and starting fresh...
1) When I wrong someone else, I pray I may find true humility and repentence, then ask their forgiveness without a sense of entitlement and
2) When I am wronged I will choose to remember how much grace has been bestowed on my heart and soul and to return grace to others as an act of worship to the One who modeled it so beautifully.

2012 is looking more peaceful already.

The Hopes & Fears of All the Years

Sunday we attended Buckhead Church in Atlanta. Rodney Anderson, singles pastor, mentioned that his favorite Christmas carol lyric was from O Little Town of Bethlehem. Specifically, he quoted the portion that says, "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight."

That phrase seems to capture the magic of Christmas for Believers. The hope that the baby Jesus represents is what our souls still crave today--that our deepest fears can be comforted and our heartfelt hopes we be met.

This world can weigh heavily on our hearts. We are burdened by our sin, the sin of others, trials we face or watch those we care about go through. We bring those things to Jesus...our hopes and fears, our hurts and dreams.

The beauty of the coming of this long expected Jesus is that He came. In coming to us rather than requiring us to come to Him He has demonstrated His willingness and His ability to enter in to our world with humility and with hope.

In researching this hymn tonight I came across an old legend from the early church. The legend is that when Jesus was a baby, whenever the people of His little village felt tired, worried, or fearful they would say to each other, "Let us go and look at Mary’s child." And they would go and look at Jesus and somehow all their troubles rolled away.

In the next few days leading up to Christmas, I pray that I will pause to follow the lead of the villagers in the legend. "Let us go and look at Mary's child."

Church on Christmas Day

My kids get out tomorrow for break, so I have been scurrying around trying to make sure everything that needs to be handled before I am full-time Mommy again is complete. My evenings have been spent making memories and addressing Christmas cards, so I apologize that this little blog has suffered!

A couple of days ago I read an interesting post I thought I would pass along. I don't intend to start a debate here...I believe deep, rich, true faith is far more than just 'what we do' (i.e., going to church on Christmas Day or not) but I do think what we do is often an outward representation of what is going on in our hearts.

While my 'list of reasons' might look slightly different than this author's, I thought the post had some worthwhile points to ponder.

Will we make Christmas Day 'all about us,' our traditions, our comfort, our memory making, our convenience or will will rearrange things to 'accommodate' the observance of the One who went to such great lengths for us?

What message does it send about what we really worship: the Giver or the Gifts?

Searching for a Hero

I read this article this morning--and even though I am not a fan of the NFL--I was really struck by the conclusion the author came to regarding all of the disdain for former Florida quarterback, Tim Tebow. For those of you who aren't football fans, don't tune out just yet. This isn't a story about football as much as it is a story about our society and our propensity for raising people up and then tearing them back down.

"Their dislike for Tim Tebow is not, as they would have us believe, about his throwing motion or his completion percentage; it's all about his open professions of faith and his goody-two shoes image. When it comes right down to it, we don't want heroes who are truly good. We want them to fail the occasional drug test or start a bar fight from time to time. It makes us feel better about ourselves. Tebow, however, doesn't make us feel better about ourselves. People like him make us feel a little convicted about the things we say and do. So we find a reason to dislike them. Or, when Tebow says that glory goes to God and the credit for a victory goes to his teammates, coaches, and family, we are suspicious. An increasingly jaded culture, we don't believe that anyone can say such things and really mean them." -Larry Taunton, Director of Fixed Point Foundation and author of The Grace Effect: How the Power of One Life Can Reverse the Corruption of Unbelief.

It is an interesting point to ponder: We want people to look up to and admire, but we still want to see their flaws. We don't want them to be too good. When I posted this article earlier today on facebook, a friend of mine likened it to the way adult virgins are treated/laughed at in our culture. Why is innocence and/or righteousness such an object of ridicule? Why does it make the world so suspicious?

We need not idolize anyone--but what is this need to expose one another? Why must our self worth be based on lessening someone else's? We all lose in that proposition.

Clearly, no one living today is without sin. We all have our struggles--but there are still men and women who are pursuing holiness and righteousness, however counterculture it may be. I hope to be counted as one of them. Don't you? So, let's surround each other "as a great cloud of witnesses," cheering, spurring one another on, encouraging and praying. Heaven knows, there is enough opposition in the world as it is!