Loss

I didn’t realize that it would be the last time I saw my father-in-law, Forest. Each year, our family trekked to Washington State to visit both Tony’s and my side of the family. My two daughters, Alix and Maddie, and I were eating lunch with Forest as I commented on how good he looked. Months before, his health was precarious, and we had anticipated hearing bad news any day. However, surprisingly, he had bounced back after changing his diet and losing some weight. I knew he was feeling healthy when he resumed golfing again. Life seemed to be looking up.

What a shock it was when Tony received a phone call just three months later that his stepdad had passed away hours after returning home from playing golf! I was shocked. How could this be? When I saw Forest last July, he was in the best health I’d ever seen him. The whole situation felt surreal. It seemed like I should’ve have somehow had some foreknowledge that this was coming. A chance to say goodbye would’ve made me feel better about this whole thing.

Events like this over the past several months have caused me to ponder this idea of “last moments”. Would I have treasured the time I had with Forest more had I known he would leave this world just a few months later? Would I have savored and enjoyed my visit more with both my in-laws? I have to confess that I had managed to endure these yearly visits rather than look forward to them.

Fast forward to this past March and imagine my amazement when Tony’s mom was admitted to the hospital and one month later was promoted to heaven. I was able to converse with her briefly while she was in the hospital even though she could barely communicate back. How inconceivable to me that this once energetic, vibrant personality was lying semi-comatose in a hospital bed. I wondered how one could enter the hospital for a surgery that was quite successful, yet take such a turn for worse…and never recover.

Even more than that, why didn’t I value the time I had with her during our visits? Yes, she could be difficult; yes, she was insecure; yes, she could tell the same stories over and over again. Yet, never in my wild imagination did it occur to me that the possibility of interacting with my mother-in-law, of hearing her stories for the umpteenth time, of exposing my children to the resilience and persistence of this godly woman would come to an end so soon.

Tony’s mom, Darlene, had not only lived through the depression, but had also endured marriage to an abusive alcoholic and subsequent divorce. She persisted in her Christian walk during devastating circumstances. Darlene met Tony’s dad, experienced a wonderful marriage and raised 4 children with not a lot of means. She then survived her husband’s death from pancreatic cancer and was able to experience marriage again to a friend from high school. Darlene was a survivor, a fighter! While I knew all this and admired her character, I tended to focus on her flaws…as if I have any room to talk!

Thus, I have been ruminating since Darlene’s death in April, “Do I cherish the time I spend with my loved ones? Do I make the most of that time as if it could be the last?” It’s not that I am now a doomsayer and think the worst might happen; it’s simply that I want to enjoy the moments while I am with the ones I love…even if they are difficult people. I want to live with no regrets!

Earlier this summer my family and I traveled to California to celebrate my grandmother’s 90th birthday. The last time I visited with my namesake, she had just turned 85, and truthfully, I’m not sure I pondered as I did this time that it might be the last time I see her. She’s a healthy, vibrant woman with a mind that is still sharp as a tack. A kind, gentle woman, who most likely handed down to me my “blonde” brain, she is proud of her legacy. She stood in awe and said, “I can’t believe I did all this”, speaking of her 3 children, 10 grandchildren and 19 great grandchildren. Lois is not in denial, however. She related that the doctor gave her a clean bill of health, but she said, “I could die tomorrow.” That kind of talk makes me want to stick my fingers in my ears and say, “La, la, la, la, la, I’m not listening.” And, yet, I know it’s true. There are no guarantees in this life…even if all the tests come back great.

The point is this: savor the time you have with those you love. I wanted to soak up every minute with my grandma. I desired my kids to know the kind of person she is, hear her life stories and experience her kindness and unconditional acceptance. Someday the opportunity to communicate with her will be taken from me, and just like the unexpected deaths of my in-laws, I won’t be prepared. Yet, I can learn a valuable lesson from the past events of this year. Don’t take the people in your lives or the time you have with them for granted. No matter how challenging the relationship might be, value, love and accept the time God has given you with those you love.

An Unexpected Gift

I love surprises! The other day, I trudged up the stairs after my elliptical exercise with Fox and Friends and noticed a large box sitting at the top. I deduced that Maddie intercepted the mysterious box from the delivery man while I was preoccupied with my heavy breathing on the machine downstairs. I was puzzled because I knew that I hadn't ordered anything...lately! Noticing my parent's return address on the label, I concluded that mother was sending Maddie's birthday gift early...at least 3 weeks early. Strange!

Then, I opened the box and discovered this: a beautiful birdhouse masterpiece!

I immediately burst into tears. You see, it was a gift from my daddy! Out of the blue. No reason. Simply love. A few months ago, he revealed that he was working on some birdhouses for the Christian school auction. I commented in passing that I would love to have one of his birdhouses. It never occurred to me that I would receive a gift in the mail. My daddy loves me. He thought of me. He gave me...not a birthday gift or a Christmas gift...but a love gift. Thank you, daddy! I can't wait to see the birds that will use this beautiful home to build their nests.

If my earthly father gives me such sweet and precious gifts, how much more does my heavenly Father give me? I pray that my eyes will be opened to all of them...

Not Your Average New Year's Resolution

Over the years, I have made more than my fair share of New Year's resolutions...and broken them within a matter of weeks. I've promised to eat healthy, exercise regularly, spend quiet time each morning with God, be more patient, loving and kind. This year, I've turned over a new leaf and instead of making a list of goals, I'm praying a couple of verses from Psalms.

As I was finishing out the year reading my One Year Bible, Psalm 143 leaped off the page. These verses, which I have now memorized, have become my prayer for 2009:

"Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for I give myself to you. Teach me to do your will, for you are my God. May your gracious Spirit lead me forward on a firm footing." Psalm 143:8,10

'Let me hear' inspires me to be in God's word each morning, so I can receive his words for me. 'I am trusting' and 'I give myself' requires action on my part now and continuously. As I trust and give, he will 'show me' and 'teach me'. He is personal; he is 'my God'. And, he will 'lead me forward', not backward...on 'firm footing', not shifting sand.

What will be your prayer this year? Whatever comes across my path this year, amid trouble or blessings, my desire is to be found faithful and trusting in my huge God who is able to absolutely blow my mind. May I say as the people said in Mark 2:12 when the paralytic was forgiven and healed, "We have never seen anything like this!"

Guilt-free Living

Here's my article from the latest edition of our women's newsletter entitled DivineLines:

One Trip You Don’t Need to Take!

Many of us take vacations each summer to take a break from our normal routines, enjoy undivided family time and indulge in much-needed relaxation. Unfortunately, those trips don’t seem to last long enough, a week or two at the most. On the contrary, as a woman, I have found myself taking the same trip over and over the past…hmmm…30 plus years. You know the one I’m talking about. The infamous Guilt Trip. Yep, I seem to repeat this trip often, sometimes against my will and better judgment. Why do I do this? Why do I beat myself up for what I do or don’t do, should or shouldn’t do?

One of the areas I’ve felt guilty over during the last few months is not accomplishing enough at home. After all, I am a stay-at-home mom, so my house should be spotless, right? Why do I feel the need to explain my productiveness to my husband who has been at work all day? I certainly wouldn’t want him to consider me a slacker, so I must spout off, “I have done 2.5 loads of laundry, put the dishes in the dishwasher, swept the kitchen floor (well, maybe ½ of it, but I feel the need to stretch things a bit), and folded the towels that have been laying on the couch for three days.” Why do I need to make myself feel better by relating all I have accomplished for the day, and why do I feel guilty about telling him that I shared lunch with friends or spent much needed time reading a book? Why do I put so much emphasis on what I am doing (the outward) and spend little time just being (the inward)?

Another guilt-ridden area has to do with raising my children. You know, my parenting just isn’t adequate enough; I should be doing a better job. Why is it that often times when I hear about a great idea that is working in a friend’s family, guilt emerges? Ever been around someone who mentions that they are having family devotions weekly and a meaningful prayer time as well? I’m not knocking those who are doing this; frankly, I’m just jealous. Oh, I’ve started this family devotion thing at various seasons throughout my parenting career and each time it’s been a habit for about a week. The older kids appear disinterested and uncommunicative while baby-of-the-family, life-of-the-party Maddie climbs all over the couch, expelling bodily function noises and causing the older kids to perk up and laugh at her antics. End of devotions. End of meaningful prayer time. My guilt level rises because family devotions aren’t working. In addition, guilt plagues me with thoughts that I should be playing more with my kids; I shouldn’t let them watch so much television; I should be driving them to school, not making them take the bus; I should make crafts with my kids. I seem to easily forget about the things I am doing to raise my children well, such as playing games with them, reading to them, having meaningful conversations in the car as I drive them to various sports activities.

The list of guilt is endless, isn’t it? I don’t contact my mother-in-law enough; I shouldn’t eat that piece (or bag) of chocolate; I should volunteer more at my child’s school; I should call my friends more often; I’m not doing enough at church or for my small group; I shouldn’t eat out so much; I should eat more healthy; I should exercise more; I should be a better wife, mother, daughter, employee. My guilt and perhaps even yours transcends into the spiritual realm. I should read my Bible more; I should pray more; I shouldn’t have gossiped about that person; I should forgive her; I’m not loving enough; I’m not patient enough. I could find areas of my life to feel guilt over ad infinitum. How do I assuage this guilt?

I’m still in process, but some things I’m learning are:

Give myself permission to do things for me, such as reading, exercising or spending time with friends. Recently, I talked with a friend who has a goal to read 40 books in the next year in order to challenge her mind to continue to grow. My goal is to read meaningful material an hour a day. I’m learning that it is okay to take time to refresh my soul and body; in fact, to be a better woman, wife and mom, it’s vital.

Give myself permission to say ‘no’ in order to say ‘yes’ to the more important. So many times, I’ve said ‘yes’ to wonderful service opportunities out of guilt only to be very sorry later. About two years ago, I was severely overcommitted, leading several small groups and not doing any of them well. Since that time, I’ve learned that just because someone considers me qualified to do something, doesn’t mean I’m the person to do it. I learned the hard way that it’s all right to say ‘no’ to a greater ‘yes’. I prayed about what I should be involved in, how to best utilize my gifts, and where I was most passionate. When you know the place to which God has called you and where He has not, you can avoid the guilt trip.

Give myself and my family the freedom to be different from other families. While I was growing up, I would constantly spout this phrase to my mom, “Linda’s family lets her do _________” to which she would reply, “Well, we aren’t Linda’s family.” Hmmm, seems as if we could put this into practice. Each of us is uniquely and wonderfully created. Not one of us is the same, so that means that the inner workings of our families will be different. I don’t need to feel guilty because I’m not a Barbie-playing, Play-doh-loving mom. It’s unfair to compare myself to my friend who is, because on the flip side, I may do things in my family that cause her to take the guilt trip.

Just in the last week, I’ve heard the word “guilt” more times than I can count. We feel guilty about everything, don’t we? While I don’t want to downplay the role guilt plays in bringing us to our knees before God when we have sinned and need to make things right, so much of our guilt stems from our comparison to what others are doing in their lives. We do need to feel conviction and confess when we have slandered another’s name, harbored unforgiveness, or said harsh words to family members. When God forgives us, He sets us free from the guilt that may linger over our sin. However, we need to be free of guilt in areas that cause us to compare our lives with others and thereby cause us to believe that we are not measuring up or that we are somehow failing. When we are tempted to take that guilt trip, we need to choose to decline that vacation for even a day. Give yourself permission to be different from others and give yourself a much-needed break from that particular trip!

Ordinary Days

My blogging days have been sparse to say the least. With school out, well, dang it all...if that doesn't put a cramp in my ability to post. Then there's those blasted trips out of state that'll seriously dampen one's blogginess. Some of my friends are fortunate to own a laptop and therefore, they can simply sit in their house by the beach, mountains or hotel room and type away. Still, I wonder how much relaxation that can be. "Sorry, honey, can't walk on the beach right now, I've got to blog." I wonder how frustrating that might be for familial relationships. I'm just thinkin' that my hubby wouldn't take too kindly to me saying I couldn't hang out with the fam because I must be about my bloggy business. Just a thought. Guess I'm glad I don't have a laptop. I'd hate to allow my blessed computer time trump my real life relationships.

Perhaps that's another reason my posts have been so few and far between. I've been out living life with flesh and blood folks. Oh yeah, and running children to summer activities. As my cell phone message says if you call and leave a message, "I'm out gallivanting around right now..." Not only that, I've been vacationing forever it seems. Well, according to my husband it was forever since he didn't fly with me to visit my family in Washington state. He had to stay home with our son, Nick...not because Nick needed a babysitter, but just because hubby couldn't take the time off from work.

To him, it was an agonizing nine days without me. To me it was a meager eight days...nine if you count the day spent flying home. I choose not to count that. He missed me immensely. I missed him too, but well, hmmmm, how do I say this without sounding cold-hearted? I love my hubby; I always miss my hubby, but in light of spending time with my family, enjoying conversation and catching up with my brother's and sister's families, I'm thinking I didn't miss him, miss him if you catch my drift. So, when he was hugging me after we reunited at the airport, telling me he missed me and loved me, my little, squeaky, "I missed you, too," sounded totally false.

That's not all. Truthfully, I wasn't ready to leave my family. I know that all good things must come to an end, but why? I absolutely love and treasure my family. We all get along, including the out-laws! The cousins love playing together. Amazingly, I don't believe one squabble erupted amongst them. How can anyone fight hanging out at grandma and grandpa's lake house? The 4th of July is spent around a bonfire roasting marshmallows for s'mores, singing patriotic songs and blowing up the lake, aka lighting off fireworks. We talk and talk and talk s'more. In fact, I'm pretty sure I used up my allotment of words each day and then some. My dad specifically told me that he overused his words. He probably had to take a couple of days rest from talking after I left. Sorry, Mom!

We also celebrated birthdays in big fashion. To those on the outside, we probably seem heartless and cruel in the way that we poke fun at our relatives. We royally roast our relatives so that they know they are specially loved. Three momentous birthdays occurred this year, and because we all live far enough away not to be able to join together on those days, we do our dirty work during our annual visit. With Mom turning 65 this past February, and my brother and his wife hitting the big 4-0, there was no escaping this rite of passage. My sister, aka "the creative writer genius", composed three songs in less than 5 hours during her trip over the mountain from Spokane. She always gets any skit-writing/song-writing gigs by default because she knows...a. that anything I would come up with would be lame (and I agree), and b. that anything Toby would come up with would be less lame, but still not creative enough. With two full-time careers and finishing up her M.B.A., Tricia works great under pressure...so we siblings felt absolutely no guilt giving her this task. She's always up for a challenge. Might I say that once again she was absolutely brilliant. With the lake as our backdrop, we dudes and divas crooned Tricia's creative words to the music of the karaoke machine. While no one chanted for an encore, the uproarious laughter and deafening applause caused us to consider perhaps taking our show on the road. Beware Partridge Family: you may be overshadowed by the Weston Family Singers.

Alas, as I said before, all good things must come to an end...and they did. Is there any wonder that I had difficulty re-entering real life? Back to routine, laundry, cooking, carpooling...ugh! I admit it. I was in a bad, bad place when I returned. No, I didn't need to be committed, but I had an Attitude with a capital "A". Topping it off were the things that did not get done while I was gone. I'm not mentioning any names, but apparently when momma leaves, life stops. I was awfully quiet and on the verge of hysterical crying, but I managed to contain myself and for once, keep my flippin' trap shut! This is good. You see, I knew that I was not in a good place in my mind and that I had a stinkin' attitude. My feelings were a jumbled mess and frankly, I needed to sort some things out before I started pointing my finger and naming names and their sins against me. What kinds of unrealistic expectations had I set up? What was so awful about the items on my list not getting crossed off that was causing the world to end? I just needed to get over myself. So, today (for once) I am pleased with myself. Every time Tony asked to 'talk about' what was bothering me, I said, "No." Now this isn't the "nothing's wrong" syndrome I don on occasion. Basically, I needed to figure it all out in my mind and determine if there was truly anything valid to say...otherwise I knew stuff would spew, and it wouldn't be pretty!

So, there you have it, beauty of celebration with family and ugliness of self all in one post. I'm back to ordinary days of life...filled with husbands and kids and dirty laundry and fixing meals. These ordinary days of life include celebrating birthdays with wonderful friends, as I did today, as well as rushing off to carpool girls to gymnastics. Most of these days are not wildly exciting, but that's okay. I know that even in these ordinary days, I have purpose even if it doesn't seem very grand or important. In God's eyes, it is important; my ordinary days do have value. I love what I read this morning from Nancy Ortberg's book, Looking for God that confirms this thought.

"Ordinary gives us a sense of purpose even in the mundane, a kind of freedom that releases us from the need to be important--a need that can weigh us down and sink us into our own pitiful selves. Ordinary gives a peace and joy and centeredness that turns us toward God and builds him deep inside of us."

"I wonder if we miss him sometimes because we miss how often the ordinary shows up--and the fact that God is there also."

Ordinary defines most of my days. I pray that I see God in all the ordinariness of doing laundry, feeding my family, spending time with my husband and children, meeting with friends and driving the kids' activities circuit. Whether or not my name is ever in the spotlight, God has given me a purpose to fulfill within my own family. It certainly has its many mundane moments, moments in which I question my value and whether something greater might be "out there" for me. Still, I know in my heart of hearts that this job he has called me to for right now is grander and more important than anything I could achieve for myself. And, this job of being solely a wife and mom in ordinary, sometimes bland days is more challenging and requires more focus on my Savior than anything I have ever done. I will keep looking for God to show up in my ordinary days of my ordinary life!

Stirred Hearts

I am a church girl...practically born and raised on the second row pew of an Assemblies of God church. Actually, my parents began their relationship with Jesus when I was two-years-old, but ever since that time, they took us kids to church pretty much every time the doors were open. These were the days of revival meetings...as my 7-year-old would say, "Back in the day." She's always curious if certain things occurred "back in the day".

Our family would plant ourselves in our pew, specially reserved for the Weston family during evangelistic meetings and missionary meetings from Sunday through Wednesday nights. Altar calls were definitely an integral part of the evening when many would venture forward to begin a relationship with Jesus, recommit their lives to Christ or answer a call upon their lives. Of course, I felt "called" at every meeting to be a missionary, whether it was to Europe or South America. I do remember specifically asking God NOT to call me to Africa. It was my greatest fear that God would somehow make me go to that scary place.

The special offering for the evangelist or missionary was also imperative. As a teenager and young adult, this offering time pulled at my heart strings. I was always stirred to give in order to help whatever project for which they were raising money. Perhaps this was partly due to the influence of my parents. No matter who was preaching, even the most boring speaker (yes, some of those sermons caused a few eyes to shut), my mom and dad always gave something. They desired to be part of something larger than their sphere of influence. This act of generosity prompted in me the same desires to have an impact on a grander scale. While I'm not in Africa or another country, God can still use the gifts I give to reach out to those who need His touch in their lives.

Last week, I had one of these "aha" moments as I read some verses in Exodus that convey God's instructions to Moses regarding the building of the tabernacle. Not exactly action-packed passages, but I saw things in a different light than ever before. Exodus 35:21 states, "All whose hearts were stirred and whose spirits were moved came and brought their sacred offerings to the LORD..." The verses following that state, "Both men and women came, all whose hearts were willing..." "All the women who were willing used their skills to spin the goat hair into yarn..." And, "So the people of Israel--every man and woman who was eager to help in the work the LORD had given them through Moses--brought their gifts and gave them freely to the LORD." Finally, "Their contributions were more than enough to complete the whole project."

God has not gifted me in the area of spinning goat hair into yarn; although, I don't mind at all shopping for anything made out of goat hair. Actually, I can't think of anything currently in my closet created with goat hair. YET, God does stir my heart to give. Sometimes, however, I don't act upon that Holy Spirit nudge. And, guess what? It goes away. I ignore it, and the desire leaves. Have you ever had that occur in your life? A time in which you felt prompted to give money or use your gifts and ignored it?

Tony and I have pounded this conversation to death. He wants to mull it over, chew on it, ponder it...whether to give to a certain project, and I want to write a million dollar check right now! Of course, I don't have a million dollars to give, but my desire is that strong. Tony wants to consider the needs around us and make a prayerful decision regarding where our dollars are best used. There's no right or wrong here. In fact, I believe there's room for both actions. In 2 Corinthians 9:7, Paul says, "Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver."

God seems to use more than one means to accomplish his work. He moves our hearts to give as we see the needs around us, and he desires us to choose to give certain decided amounts joyfully! Perhaps this is the difference between the tithe and other special offerings. Tony and I have made a conscious decision regarding our tithe amount; however, other gifts we can give as we see the immediate needs around us. I don't know about you, but almost every day we get requests in the mail for donations to various needy organizations. I desire to help many of them, but I also want to be a good steward of the money God has given us. We find ourselves caught in a crossfire of local, national and international pleas for help.

What's the answer? God will direct you differently than he does our family. However, a couple of things crop up in my mind as I consider this. First, I must not ignore the stirring of my spirit to give. I need to act on what is most likely the Holy Spirit prompting me. The amount is insignificant; that I give...is. Secondly, God does urge me to carefully consider what I give. I need to make choices where to give on all levels. As a husband and wife, Tony and I decide together the people or organizations we should support. This is challenging because we both have strong opinions about where our dollars can best be used. We do agree that we want to support the outreaches in our local community first and foremost.

Praying about where to give is essential. I can't claim to have heard an audible voice from God on this, but I do know that many times, His answers to our "where shall we give" prayer are the needs right in front of our faces. In addition, God wants us to be generous givers with whatever he has given us. I can't help but relate back to the Israelites in Exodus. When they gave, their contributions were MORE than enough to complete the whole project. In fact, Moses commanded them to stop giving. "And so the people were restrained from bringing more, because what they already had was more than enough to do all the work." Just think what could be accomplished if our hearts were stirred and our spirits moved to give, and we actually brought our gifts to the LORD!

Love Deeply

I am cheating today and posting an article I wrote for our women's newsletter entitled Divine Lines. This is written by several women in our church and published every other month. You can access the entire newsletter at SOCC.

Love Deeply

I was standing in Kohl’s waiting an eon for Maddie to choose a toy with the gift card she had received for Christmas when my cell phone beeped. Opening it, I noticed that my mom had sent me a text message. After 20 minutes, I sent her one back. Yep, that’s how long it took me to figure out that texting thing. I am a completely anti-techy woman from the electronic typewriter age. Frankly, it astounded me that my mom actually knew how to do this. Turns out, she had a couple of teenagers coaching her through the process. Suffice it to say, when my mom texted me back, I ignored the message. It would’ve been quicker for me to call her.

We live in a fast-paced society, and we have created devices in our world that compliment that lifestyle. I don’t have to physically talk to anyone in order to have a relationship with them, however shallow it is. In order to save time, I can email or text. I can get a Facebook or My Space account to maintain contact with friends all around the world. Because of cell phones, we are accessible 24 hours a day, seven days a week. We carry all sorts of contacts in our phone lists and email lists, yet how many of those are close relationships? We are in such a hurry most of the time that we are only making surface connections with people. I wonder how many people are truly longing for a good friend, someone who will take the time to build a deeper relationship.

In a Beth Moore study I took recently, she stated in one of her videos that we have ceased to practice deep relationships. It’s true. We are more reachable than ever before, yet we are also lonelier. How can that be with all the noise that surrounds us? Peter challenges us in 1 Peter 4:8, “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” Our culture teaches us to love superficially and to work toward self-reliance; however, the Bible clearly contradicts this idea.

The word “love” in this verse is that of the love of Christians toward other Christians. We are to show affection and goodwill towards our fellow believers. Beth Moore says that we need to learn to fight for each other instead of with each other. Too often we backbite, gossip and tear down instead of building each other up. We need to have unity in the midst of our diversity.

“Deeply” or the word “fervent”, as it is used in the King James Version, means strained or stretched. Picture an athlete reaching for the finish line or goal line, stretching out across it. Our love for one another is to be demonstrated intently, earnestly. Emails and texts can’t quite capture this kind of love. This takes time and effort, being intentional. This kind of love goes the distance; it stands the test of time; it gets into the ugly stuff.

What ugly stuff? Our sin, of course! Love “covers” (hides) over a “multitude” (a great number, bundle) of “sins” (that which is done wrong, offences). When I love fervently, I will forgive offenses against me rather than intensify them and gossip about them. I will error on the side of mercy rather than hold grudges. I will cover over and conceal the sins of others rather than spread them to the masses. I love Beth Moore’s statement that we must grace others because we ourselves have been graced. When we don’t love deeply; when we keep track of what others have done to us; when we fight with our fellow believers, the enemy is outwitting us. It’s his mission to sidetrack us in our desire to reflect Christ’s love to those around us in meaningful ways. We need to wise up to Satan’s schemes and foil his attempts at successfully sidetracking us by doing some tangible things to intentionally love those around us.

First, if you have many acquaintances but no close friends, think of someone with whom you would like to connect more deeply. Plan a time to meet with them over coffee or lunch. Several years ago I invited a woman over to my house for lunch to get to know her better, and now I can’t imagine not having her friendship in my life. We have become great friends and purposefully arrange time together on a regular basis.

Another way to begin to reflect His love more deeply is by becoming an encourager. We never know how or when our words will bring life to someone who is down or discouraged. Too often we concentrate on the negative, especially within our own families, instead of looking for the positive. I want to be a glass half full (or maybe even spilling over) kind of girl, the kind of person others gravitate to because of my kind words. Let’s overlook everyone’s multitude of faults and idiosyncrasies and look for the good instead. Perhaps, as we do this, they’ll choose not to see all our wrongs! Infuse someone with courage in the words that you speak over their life. Our words have the power to bring life or death to someone. Be a life-giver!

Also, be a note-giver! Every once in awhile I come across a card I’ve saved from a friend or my husband, and it brings a smile to my face once again. These notes remind me of how special they think I am, how valuable our friendship is; how much they love me. When I was dating my husband, I sent cards to him several times a week since we lived an hour and a half away from each other. They were full of loving words and encouragement. How often have I written these notes after we were married? Embarrassingly, I’ve composed some loving thoughts only a couple of times a year at special occasions. It’s not because I don’t believe he needs them anymore; mostly, it’s sheer laziness. As Beth Moore says, “I think notes constantly.” I could open my own Hallmark store with all the cards I have stockpiled to send to friends and to give to my husband. Unfortunately, they aren’t quite as effective sitting lonely in a drawer. My challenge to you and me is to spend a few minutes writing a special note to a friend, family member or your spouse expressing your love to them. Your words could have a huge impact on them and quite possibly arrive at a God-appointed time in their lives.

In a world that loves superficially and promotes self-reliance, let’s be different. Let’s love deeply, be grace-givers and bring life to those around us.

Greetings from Guatemala

In a previous blog, I mentioned that my husband and 16-year-old son were just returning from a mission's trip to Guatemala, and at some point, I would blog about that. Instead, you are in for an extra special treat. Tony and I had asked Nick to write a letter to his supporters thanking them again for the money they donated as well as relating to them the experiences he had. He went above and beyond in his letter, and I would like to share it with you. It truly touched my heart to see the impact this trip had on his life. Enjoy!

January 23, 2008

Hey guys,

Sorry this is late. I have had a hectic couple of weeks after the trip to Guatemala. I was sick with pneumonia last week, and now this week I am paying the price in mounds of homework. So, finally I have a breath of fresh air to do something other than school. Again, I am very grateful for all of your support. Without you guys, I wouldn’t have been able to have had the great experience in Guatemala.

As you may or may not know Guatemala has a rugged terrain; it was very green with active volcanoes everywhere we looked. We saw many fields of corn and other plants. Most of the time, these fields were on slopes or on the side of the volcanoes. Travel around these mountains was tough and took twice as long as it would in a non mountainous area. The house, Agua Viva, we stayed in was elevated over 7,000 feet above sea level. So, as you could imagine we had a little less stamina then normal.

Agua Viva is a home for children that are not necessarily orphans. Most of the kids had been either court ordered, or sent there by a parent or neighbor. The children there are very kind and loving. One would never know that they had been in difficult situations at all. The kids are very patient. Even though I have almost 4 years of Spanish under my belt, I still struggled with the language. They would wait for me to figure it out, or they would try to say other words that I could maybe recognize. So, I was able to understand the week through bits and pieces.

(Women selling their wares in the marketplace)

The home was divided into 5 houses. The houses are from littlest to largest Casa Samuel, Casa Ruth, Casa David, Casa Ester and Casa Josue. The house I got to know the most was Casa Josue. The Casa Josue ages ranged from about 10-18. We played jokes at breakfast, lunch and dinner; we played “futbol,” or soccer and basketball; and we painted trees and classrooms and just hung out. These boys, just like in the rest of the houses, were very obedient and helpful. Every time we went to do some work, there were some of these boys asking if they could help. Even when we weren’t working, they would ask if we were going to later on in the day.

(Nick is the non-guatemalan looking guy)

On this trip many strange things occurred that veteran group members said that they had never experienced there before. The first thing that happened was that one of our group leaders got food poisoning on the way to Guatemala. When we arrived, she was hospitalized at one of the hospitals and ended up coming back that night. Also, on one of the trips outside of the home we experienced a power outage. It wasn’t noticeable because it was daytime and very bright outside. When we got back to the Agua Viva there was no power there either! We had dinner by candle light and had to use flashlights for about an hour until the power came back on. Another strange occurrence happened on the last night we were in Guatemala. At our going away ceremony there was an earthquake right in the middle of the program. All the kids were unfazed because they were used to them. Last, but not least was the weather. While we were there, the group members who had been to Guatemala before had never experienced such cold temperatures. Most of us were not packed sufficiently, so we had to make due on one pair of pants and a light jacket. Overall these odd happenings made for an interesting week.

(Nick in the church service)

One of the best experiences I had in Guatemala was playing soccer with the kids. It was fun to try to watch them handle the ball and score, except when I was goalie. They play every day, and a couple of us were lucky enough to join in on two of these games. They were fun, and the kids laughed at us a lot but we had a great time anyway. The games we played were like close football games. I bet that many of them could come here to high schools in America and dominate.

I took away many things from this trip. One thing that really stuck out to me was the patience that they had. There were no clocks there so you couldn’t tell time, unless you brought a watch. They never seemed rushed to do anything. I found myself trying to find out the time countless times. We just seem like a really fast paced society here in America. When I was in Guatemala, I didn’t worry about tomorrow. All I cared about was what I was doing in that moment. In Matthew 6:34 Jesus says, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” I think that we all could apply this to our lives. We don’t need to worry and stress out about tomorrow; we just need to think about today.

Thank you again for all of your support. I hope you were able to catch a glimpse of what I experienced on this trip. It was fantastic, and I hope to go back again. I am sorry for the lateness of this letter. Thank you!

Sincerely,

Nick Carlsberg


I am so proud of this maturing young man. I pray that God does amazing and mighty things in and through his life as he follows after Him. You know, there are moments when we wonder if our children are "getting it"...that the most satisfying and complete life is only through Jesus Christ. We so desire for our kids to mature and grow in Him, for them to hear our words and model after us (most of the time, that is)! Many times we think all that we are attempting to teach them is going in one ear and out the other. Then we have these glimpses, these snapshots they show us...it's enough to make a momma cry!

Words to Ponder

Quote from Beth Moore's Bible study, "Stepping Up."

"Don't wait! Praise God the second you don't feel like it! The second you feel defeated! "Now!" Your temptor tempts you to praise God the least when you need to praise the most. A true psalmist praises his way to victory, knowing it will come because the praise itself renders the first blow to his enemy's brow. God's faithfulness then calls for man's gratefulness."

Who's Got Your Ear?

A few nights ago I asked my husband to pray over me in preparation for our first day of our Roof-Crasher's Bible study since I was a little anxious about being one of the teachers for the Sacred Marriage study. Even though I have been happily re-married now for almost 8 years, I experienced a heart-wrenching divorce 9 years ago which has caused me to doubt at times my worthiness at leading any class much less one on marriage. Let's just say, the accuser assails negative thoughts my direction like..."what do you have to offer...you couldn't even stay married", and "people will not listen to what you have to say because of your track record" and "how can a divorced woman teach a marriage class?"

Now I know that God is not saying that I am worthless, useless and have nothing to offer. I realize that He has made beauty from the ashes of my life, and that He can use my brokenness to help someone else. But, Satan doesn't want ME to get it. He will do anything to get believers to disbelieve Christ's redeeming work in our lives and basically, to quit! Because I had these nagging thoughts plaguing me, I asked Tony to pray for me. He did and as we began to talk after his prayer, I started sharing my fears again. Basically, he shushed me, "Annette, we prayed about it. It's taken care of. God will be with you. Those thoughts are not true." I was speechless at his uncharacteristic bluntness, which if you know me, happens once in a blue moon. His words shut me up which stopped the negativity from flowing.

The following morning I was up earlier than normal to spend some time praying for the women that would come, for our leaders and for me, of course. Then, I asked God to speak to me and when I opened my One Year Bible to read the day before's portion since I was already a day behind, guess what? God spoke to me clearly through these verses in Proverbs:

"My child, never forget the things I have taught you. Store my commands in your heart. If you do this, you will live many years, and your life will be satisfying. Never let loyalty and kindness leave you! Tie them around your neck as a reminder. Write them deep within your heart. Then you will find favor with both God and people and you will earn a good reputation. Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take."

The last two sentences in this portion, Proverbs 3:5-6, were the verses I clung to while going through my divorce, becoming a single parent and learning to trust God through all my uncertain days ahead. I already thought I had this trust thing down because of all I had experienced in the past. God was reminding me again...trust ME with ALL your heart. The word "all" leaped off the page. Was I reserving part of my heart back from Him? Did I only want to trust him with certain portions? Was I not trusting Him to be with me after I had just asked Him to? Since God called me to this moment, wouldn't He fully equip me for the task?

Fear and doubt of my inadequacy to teach was replaced with a renewed trust in the complete adequacy of my Savior who redeemed my past and called me to be part of this teaching team. This was completely confirmed after each of us gave our introductions to the class. Open about my past, I shared about my previous divorce, my belief that God's plan is indeed for couples to stay married and how God beautifully and graciously allowed me a second chance at marriage with a wonderful man.

I half expected disappointed looks and maybe even a class exodus! Instead, during our small group time one woman with tears swelling talked about her own previous divorce and subsequent re-marriage. God perfectly placed her in my group for a reason, and He has once again shown me that my life, my past and my lessons learned have a purpose that He will carry out if I will simply trust Him.

No matter where you've been, what mistakes you have made, how much you've disobeyed, God can forgive you and free you to be used for His glory and fame. Even when we find ourselves experiencing suffering because of another's poor decisions, God can use our pain to bring encouragement and hope to those we encounter. It's a matter of listening to and trusting in the One who ransoms our pasts for our freedom...and shutting up old slewfoot who dredges up our pasts for our destruction. Who will you bend your ear to?

Got Any Friends?

According to Webster, a friend is "a person whom one knows well and is fond of; intimate associate; close acquaintance...a person on the same side in a struggle; one who is not an enemy or foe; ally...a supporter or sympathizer."

I just finished typing that definition and had a thought that came out of nowhere in my blond brain. Who is Webster anyway? Why is his name on my dictionary, and yet, he's not listed as the author? In fact, I can't find his name anywhere. If you happen to know, please enlighten me.

Back to the topic at hand: friends! I love them, don't you? They come in all shapes, sizes, colors and internal variety. What is so fantabulous about this friend thing is that they don't have to be exactly like me to "like" me and for us to hit it off. I have a lot of different friends, on varying levels. I don't mean different in the sense that they are peculiar (although some come awfully close), but rather that we are diverse in character.

For example, I have a friend who calls herself a democrat (gasp), and I really, really like being with her. We don't have to agree on the same things to be friends. On the important things, like being a follower of Jesus, we do concur. We also enjoy being work out buddies when our schedules allow. With another great friend, I enjoy shopping, coffee and a lot of good-natured teasing. I have several friends that love "doing" lunch together. Many of us work together in our Roof-Crasher Bible Study, loving women to Jesus and encouraging them to go deeper in the Word. A couple of other friends have encouraged me in my leadership capabilities, seeing gifts in me that God could use. Still others laugh with me and cry with me. They've seen some of my uglies (like me without make-up) and continue to love me in spite of it. And, though they've never had the opportunity to bring me meals, I still love them.

Oddly as it sounds, I have another winsome friend who is meeting "bloggy" friends in another state for a little get away. Some are calling her crazy, and while she is that, I call her adventurous. And truth be told, I'm a tad jealous at her getting the opportunity to meet new friends because I'm convinced one can never have enough friends. Why it's just more occasions for lunches and laughing, for tears and triumphs, for shopping and sharing, for encouraging words spoken into our lives and excitement over our kids and husbands, for coffee and complaining about our kids and husbands! And, we can do all of it at the same time. That's what is so outrageous about girlfriends.

I have other friends that live in a far away state called Washington; pals which I only catch up with once a year when I visit my family. They are still close to me, near and dear to my heart even though our communication is limited. These are the ones who go through the mud with you. They've been there when tragedy hits; when the bottom drops out of your world. There are not enough words to convey what these bosom allies mean to someone like me, a person on the verge of breakdown, in a state of confusion, barely able to life my head up. Some of you have experienced this kind of friendship, the type the unites you together because of calamity.

These 5 friends carried me through one of the roughest eons (seems like it was) of my life. While my life as I knew it was falling apart, they held pity parties with me, became angry with me, cried tears with me, laughed with me and prayed with me. They, like the friends that carried their paralyzed mate to Jesus for healing, brought me on my stinky, smelly "divorce" mat to Jesus so that he could heal my wounds and my scars. While they, my compassionate friends, could not heal nor ease my pain, they knew the One who can heal all manners of sicknesses and diseases, the One who can bind up the broken hearted. While my sweet, caring buddies loved and cared for me in so many ways, they couldn't go home with me to a lonely house at night nor could they be at my beck and call whenever I felt depressed or sad. However, I do have a Friend who never slumbers nor sleeps; His presence is always with me. And, let me tell you, that when my life turned upside down, I became tight with this Friend.

I learned to trust like never before, to hang on like never before, to believe like never before. For a long time, He was my only confidante; you know, before everyone in the whole world knew all my dirty laundry. I clung to Christ like a magnet to the refrigerator. I had nothing and no one else. He became my Everything. During these two years, I learned that I could trust Him with absolutely everything...my kids, my present, my future. It's an interesting thing what these tornadoes out'ta nowhere can do to your life, IF you allow them to. WHEN you take them to Jesus, He can make something beautiful out of it. As I recently read in Lysa Terkeurst's blog, if the seed doesn't come out of it's nice little, safe packet to be placed into the ground and watered, it will never grow into what it was designed to be. So, when life happens to you, and it will, let God have his way, as with the potter and clay, so He can break and re-mold you into something beautiful He can use. One of the greatest lessons I learned about this most wonderful Friend is that He always wants the best for me. When life just doesn't seem fair and I don't understand why God might be allowing something to happen, I recall that no matter how things ultimately turn out, I can trust Him because He knows the big picture and knows better than I do what is good and perfect for me.

So, I love my God, my Friend much, much more than ever. Yet, I am completely convinced that God blesses me with girlfriends with whom I can share and do life with and more importantly, to encourage them to bring everything...their sorrows, their pain, their joys...to the One who is waiting for them, "able to do immeasurably more then all they can ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within them" (Eph. 3:20).

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Ecclesiastes 4:9,10

It Doesn't Feel Like Christmas, Day 5

Similar to a trilogy, this is the third and final excerpt in my thrilling Christmas saga. I'm confident many tears will be shed as the last sentence of this fast-paced drama is read. Unfortunately, the ending of this story is quite anti-climactic.

Aside from saving three presents for Maddie to open on this special day, it felt nothing like Christmas. Santa came Friday night, if you recall. Nick and Alix had flown to California. With three people left behind, it was hardly worth it to have a big Christmas dinner. Sigh! I had been complaining (yes, it's true...me...complaining) to Tony early in the week that I WAS NOT looking forward to Christmas Day. It's just not the same without my entire family here. It's way too quiet, even with my loudest child still at home.

So, we slept late; we ate cold cereal for breakfast; we made the traditional Christmas morning hot cocoa. That was about the only tradition we kept. After Maddie opened her last gifts, we did something we never have done before but might become a new tradition every other year when the older kids are away on Christmas. We traipsed out on an unusually warm day in December for Indiana to a movie, Alvin and the Chipmunks. I never realized how many people actually go to movies on Christmas Day. It was a great way to get over my pity party.

It would've been an even more perfect ending to Christmas if a restaurant would've been open to feed us after the movie, but alas, not a car was parked nor a light on at any establishment we drove by. It was home to leftover ham for us...again.

The grand finale to our night was our Wii bowling tournament. Maddie tried to coax us into playing Barbie's with her, but we absolutely and most adamantly refused. She compromised by putting on a fashion show with her Barbie's modelling their new clothes. She bowled in between outfits and actually placed 2nd in our tournament. Guess who was the big loser?

So, Christmas felt like any other normal day in our lives with all the excitement of the season happening days before. But, you know what? Although it was different from what I desired it to be, it was a good day nevertheless. It was definitely more quiet than what I'm currently blogging to...Alix and Maddie performing karaoke to High School Musical 2! Oh, for some peace and quiet...

Crybabies are Cool

I am a big crybaby. Always have been. I recall moments watching Little House on the Prairie as a child when tears would begin to well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I could always count on my dad crying with me. It was a big joke in my family. My dad and I were sobbers while the rest of the family remained hardened to whatever trauma was occuring on the television screen. This condition has worsened over the years because I not only have become a sympathy crier, but I now also weep at the silliest things...a school program, a gymnastics meet, even helping in my daughter's class. No trauma or pain has to be remotely involved.

This morning I cried watching my friends' children getting baptized. They were making the most important decision of their lives...meaningful moment. I teared up as the children's musical program began. All of the kids were speeding down the aisles and down the stairs to clamor up the risers as the music played. No one fell down and got hurt. No one was even singing a beautiful song, and I was dabbing at my eyes to keep the tears from seeping. Of course, this was my daughter's first musical as a big kid. And, I watched as she placed herself smack dab in the middle of her best friends. They looked like the 4 musketeers singing and dancing...all in a row...a tearful moment as I could fast forward in my mind already to the time when they'd be 5th graders standing on stage for their very last musical. I can even imagine them fighting for parts!

Watching Maddie belt out the words to the songs while she managed to swirl her hands or sway her little hips to the beat brought more wet spots, more dabbing, more sniffling. Tony kept looking at me like I was nuts. Nick was oblivious. As I actually listened to the words, "God so loved the world, that he gave his only son...that everyone who believes in him would have eternal life...", you can imagine what happened again. More crying. What moment in life could even begin to equate itself with this one? I was watching my tiny 6-year-old sing the most powerful words with absolute belief and passion. These moments are precious. They are but a blink, and they are over. I know because I have watched my two older children pave the way before her. They were the benefit of my first batch of tears.

The worst part about being a sap like me is that I never know when the tears are going to hit. They just suddenly show up. There's no warning like the siren signalling a tornado on its way. I can be at the grocery store, at a sporting event or watching a commercial when my eyes just start to water. It's a little embarrassing to try to explain this to those who see me in a public place in this condition. It's not like my life is falling apart. How do I explain to someone that the reason tears are coursing down my cheeks is because my daughter just did the most amazing vault and stuck it...and then she looked at me to see if I saw what she did? Or, something Beth Moore said in her Bible study resonated with my soul? Or, friends of mine from years ago sent an amazing amount of money to help my son raise his support for Guatemala?

So, I have just resigned myself to becoming more of a crybaby over the years and have decided that the way I'll deal with this phenomenon is to always carry tissues. After all, I must keep my face on through all the tears! If you happen to see my eyes a little wet, don't assume the worst. Why, I might've just consumed the most delicious nonfat decaf Peppermint Mocha I have ever ordered at Starbucks! The possibilities are endless.

Guilty of the Gimmies

This is an article I recently wrote for our women's newsletter, Divine Lines. You can check out the entire newsletter at SOCC.org.

It was a huge mistake to venture into the brand new Build-A-Bear store with my daughter Maddie present. “Oh mommy, can I have this bear? No, I want the pink puppy dog. I want the bunny, too. Mommy, look at this cheerleading outfit! I want that. Oh, and I want that little bed for my new dog. Can I get those pajamas for my bunny?” The whining and wanting droned on and on as we viewed the other displays of outfits and accessories for cute little stuffed animals. The “gimmie” disease has latched onto my child and taken over her entire attitude. Even while browsing through the Samaritan’s Purse catalog to choose an item to donate, Maddie thought it was all about her. “Oooo, I want that little lamb and that blanket.” Ugh!

After experiencing a glorious Thanksgiving full of gratitude toward a Savior who loves us and has redeemed us, we turn the page on the calendar and very oftentimes, instead of focusing on the baby who took on human skin for us, we are bombarded with and distracted by a very different message. Children aren’t the only ones who catch the “gimmie” disease. I caught it just last week as I was browsing through stores in Nashville. Beautiful Christmas décor displayed in windows called to me to enter through the doors enticing me to purchase items I fancied adorning my home. I have to admit that I was reeled in like a fish on a line.

And what do we as parents communicate to our children during the Christmas season? Make a list, so we know what you want. We actually give our children permission to get the gimmies. The rest of the year I chant this mantra whenever I enter a store with my 6-year-old. “You are not getting anything from this store. Please do not ask.” Now I am asking, begging, pleading with my three children to tell me what they want because I am marching to the store to buy what their hearts’ desire. In case you think that I am a bit “scroogish” (if that’s a word), I certainly am not. I love to buy my children things. I delight in seeing their faces light up when they open a present that they asked for. I am simply pointing out that at Christmas it seems as if I am actually promoting selfishness, wanting and gimmie-itus by encouraging them to compile long lists of gift ideas.

How do we stop this madness? How do we promote giving instead of getting? Luke instructs us in Acts to remember that Jesus said that it is better to give than to receive. Most of us do not prefer that our children become selfish little imps at Christmas; rather, our greatest desire would be that they focus on the birthday of Jesus, the baby who changed the world by giving up heaven and putting on human skin. I want my children to really experience the joy of Christmas…giving not getting. A few ideas listed below may help our families concentrate more on giving than receiving this Christmas:

1. Adopt a family in need this year. Let your children help you shop for gifts.
2. Put together shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child. Even though it’s too late for this year, plan to participate next Christmas.
3. Help your children “shop” in the Samaritan’s Purse or another organization’s catalog. You can choose an item to give such as a cow, a meal or a blanket for a needy child or family.
4. Every time you pass a Salvation Army bell ringer, give your child some money to drop in the bucket.
5. Participate as a family in any service opportunities Sherwood Oaks or another organization provides at Christmas.

While this is not an exhaustive list, it’s a start on our journey to help our children find the joy in giving, not receiving. My Savior gave up his home in heaven to take on human flesh so that I might receive the ultimate gift, salvation. This Christmas, may we as followers of Christ, demonstrate the attitude of giving so that those we cross paths with, whether at work, the mall or at home, catch “giving-itus”. Let’s get rid of those “gimmies”!

When Life is Faster Than a Speeding Bullet

"Busy, Busy dreadfully busy

You've no idea what I have to do

Busy, busy, shockingly busy

Much, much too busy for you" (Veggie Tales song)

This has been my mantra for the last week; hence, no time to even write a blog entry! With 3

tennis matches, 2 football "cheer" games, kids' choir and 4 gymnastic practices, I had to remind

myself to breathe. I'm pooped, and I didn't even ace a serve, perform a stunt, sing a note or soar

over the vault table. I'm serious, this taxi-driving takes its toll on a person's body not to mention

your mind. There's some complicated pondering before driving that takes place.

For example, one must determine the best order in which to drop off and pick up children and how at times to be in two places at once. I can't even begin to tell how many times one child calls to say they are ready to be picked up from a practice, and I have to tell them to wait 30 minutes. I can hear the frustration on the other end of the line. My response, "I'm sorry, there is only one of me driving here, so if you can get a ride home, that'd be great!"

I think I'm beginning to understand why I took all that complicated math in high school...so I had the ability to calculate the fastest routes through the city. I know all the shortcuts from the gymnastics club to South, Jackson Creek and Kroger. I can maneuver the back routes to Wal-Mart for a quick shopping trip if need be. (Aside: as a rule of thumb, I really try to avoid Wal-Mart at all costs.) I apologize to all of you Wal-Marters...I happen to prefer Target. It's a much happier place.

Needless to say, I believe I'm in a hurry much of my day. A friend of mine would diagnose my condition as "hurry sickness". Well, at this particular time in my life, she is absolutely correct. With 3 active children, only allowed in one sport each, but with a myriad of school and church activities, how can I not be driving myself crazy? I have to force myself to s...l...o...w d...o...w...n. I need to take time to bask in God's presence and be refreshed by His Word. Otherwise, I begin to go into "survival" mode and feel this ominous sense that this hurry-crazed life is going to overwhelm me and bury me.

When I inhale His words of life to me and ask for His Holy Spirit to fill me to the brim, I am renewed. I can actually prioritize my day better and ask Him to order my steps. Sure, I stillhave to tote those kids everywhere, but my perspective is much better. I look at my "to do" list and realize that the items not crossed off can wait. I'd rather be watching Nick play tennis, Alix throw her back tuck during cheer and Maddie do her back handspring on the floor. I'd rather spend time at an IU Football game with my husband even if they are trampled by the opposing team. I'd rather actually sit down and view the Colts game with my family instead of looking at snippets as I work in the kitchen. So, these are the activities I enjoyed in this crazy, whirlwind of a week.

In the middle of some wild, behind the wheel maneuvering to get across town (sorry if I cut you off), there was rest and delight as I had the great privilege of beholding the greatest treasures God has ever given me using the gifts that God has given them. What joy fills my soul.

Warning: Kindergarten Leads to Graduation

A few days ago I was setting up some new files for my kids' school papers...you know the papers that are so special that you need to keep them forever? As I was writing one particular file label, "Nick-11th grade", my mind flashbacked to a time about 11 years ago to my house in Washington where I began this paper-collecting. I had begun at that time to save EVERY paper my children brought home from school. By the time Nick was in 1st grade, three large cardboard boxes were stacked in my laundry room on top of the extra refrigerator. As I calculated the math, I realized that by the time Nick was out of high school, I would have more than 12 boxes of a menagerie of art work, math and language papers as well as other assortments of intelligent school work he had completed. Let's see...12 boxes times 3 children equals...36 boxes of very important yet space consuming objects. I would have to eventually sell furniture and use the boxes to sit on. Realizing that this was totally impractical, I decided that perhaps it would be just as meaningful to save a few papers throughout the year, deposit them in a file and then load all those files (36 or more) into one box. Much better idea!

That being said, I was dumbfounded as I wrote those words, "Nick-11th grade" across the top. How could that possibly be? He was just in Kindergarten yesterday, wasn't he? Only two more short years and no more file labels for Nick. I seriously doubt he'll donate his college papers for his sappy mother's files. Tears threatened to break open down my face as I realized that I am nearing the end of a season of life with one of my children.

How I long to slow down these days that seem to rush headlong into a week and then a month before I can blink. I want to savor the moments I have with Nick, like the lunch we had together, just he and I, after a doctor's appointment yesterday. These duet moments happen so infrequently now, but when they are available, I desire to snatch them up greedily as if I were hoarding the last piece of dark chocolate! My attention is fixed solely on him when no one else is clamoring for a piece of me. Nick feels less inhibited to share when his other siblings aren't present to listen to the conversation. Oh, if only life would run in slow motion these next two years; however, I have this sneaking suspicion it'll feel more like a thundering locomotive intent on reaching it's destination.

The New Neighbors

We have lived in the same neighborhood for the past 6 years, a small cul-de-sac of only six houses and really nice people. Over the past couple of years, 3 of these houses have changed hands, replaced by a strange, eclectic group of people. I tell you, I don't like it! I want my old, friendly, normal neighbors back. We all liked each other, stopped to talk through our car windows on the street, wandered over to each other's houses if we saw one another outside. Our neighbor, Jeff, next door would offer great advice about lawn care and planting trees or flowers. We went to his daughter's graduation from high school, her wedding two years later and then his son's graduation. We had become family. Then, they decided to build another house closer to the lake much to our dismay.

I knew we were in deep trouble when Jeff began describing the negotiations to sell their home with someone from the East coast. This guy sounded like a troublemaker; a cold, unfriendly, unreasonable dude. I wished for the deal to fall through, but alas, it didn't happen. This family moved in, a dad and his two teenage children. Being the good neighbor that I am, I baked 3 batches of brownies for this family. Why 3 batches? Well, I'm glad you asked. Because, the first batch, a new recipe, Maddie would not even eat. I couldn't serve those. Our dog, Bella, liked them, however. The second batch burned. The 3rd was scrumptious, but when we tried to deliver them, the family was never home. So, I put them in the freezer to be delivered after our return from our vacation to Seattle.

After thawing these yummy, frosted brownies, they sat on my counter for days. This family was never home. I didn't see them outside in the yard...ever! I finally just threw out the brownies and trashed my nice "welcome" card. One day, we saw the two kids next door riding bikes. This was my chance to finally meet them and show them how much I cared. After all, I had heard through the grapevine that their mom was dead. How awful! I could be a loving, nurturing woman next door to be there if they needed me. I had visions of being a second mom to these poor, neglected children until we were introduced. I met one polite 14 year old boy and one invasive, nosy 12 year old girl who has since permanently attached herself to my 6-year-old.

Danielle is over at our house the minute after we drive into the garage, ringing the doorbell for Maddie to ride bikes, play Barbie's or search for our other neighbor's dog wandering the neighborhood (another great story). Why does a teenager want to play with a 1st grader, anyway? She's even borrowed Maddie's Barbie's to give them makeovers. Weird! Danielle is an assertive little girl who's definitely also majoring in manipulation. "Mrs. Stonger, I hope I'm not bothering you guys too much. Tell me if I'm being a pest." Don't worry, I will!

I've been concerned about her influence on Maddie. My goodness, they were downstairs playing with the Barbie's, pretending they were rich and could buy anything they wanted. My overprotective self went into gear. "Whose idea was that, Maddie?" "Danielle's." I'm getting my ammunition ready so I can have a talk with this worldly girl who is influencing my little daughter. "Ok, so whose idea was it to play 'boyfriends' with the Barbie's?" "Mine," pipes Maddie. Darn it...must be the High School Musical 2. Time to cut out Disney shows.

It's interesting to me that this 7th grade girl has not connected with my 8th grade daughter. Alix is sweet, kind and has absolutely nothing in common with Danielle. And, she doesn't play with Barbie's anymore! I'm still trying to figure it all out...the dynamics of these relationships. Maddie, at 6, will play with anyone who gives her the time of day, not to mention that she's home more often than my gymnast, cheerleader daughter. Danielle wants friends; Alix has friends. Then, I discover that Danielle's mom is not deceased but rather is divorced from her dad. And, she's not allowed to have contact with her. This perhaps explains some of Danielle's querks. She is longing for attention and acceptance. Perhaps, she tells me that she doesn't want to be a pest to anybody because she's been told that she is one.

Because of some of Danielle's influence on Maddie, I've had numerous teaching moments with Maddie to "think for yourself." "What does that mean?" she asks me. "It means that if Danielle suggests something, and it is not something mommy and daddy would want you to do, you 'think for yourself' and you tell her you can't do it because it's not right." Believe me, we've already encountered this several times!

I'm truly torn. I want to reach out to this girl that needs to be loved and accepted, but I want my privacy too. My life is too busy to invest into an "egr" (extra-grace required) person. Unfortunately, I believe God is telling me to take the time, invest some love and see what He might do. My nice, little cozy world with my non-needy, hospitable, kind neighbors has been shaken up. While I wouldn't have voted this family into the neighborhood, God surely place them next door for a reason. He is doing something here, and I'm not sure I appreciate it. The message is blaring in my heart loud and clear. "Love your neighbor."

A New Chapter

This morning one school bus arrived at 7:20 to transport two children to junior high and high school for the first day of school, a normal occurance for many years now. The major change this year, however, is that one hour later, another school bus came to take my youngest to her first ALL day experience as a 1st grader. Why is this so difficult? I should be jumping for joy, ecstatic at having entire days at my disposal to eat chocolate, watch daytime television and generally do nothing. No more interruptions during the day while I'm attempting to do my Bible study, blog or bake. No more whining for snacks, watching tv or playing on the computer. No more two hour grocery trips begging my little one to stay with me, asking her to stop touching everything or telling her to put the candy or gum back. No more "not now", "later", or "in a minute". No more noise.

Ahhhh, I hate it already. In all my longing for peace and quiet, I love hearing that little, not so quiet voice. I love hearing her playing mommy to her dolls. I love listening to her voice read to me, sounding out difficult words. I love having her ask me to close my eyes so she can show me how she made her bed or cleaned the bathroom (everything lined up neatly across the counter). I love her cuddling up next to me to tell me she loves me. I love the spontaneous notes she writes to her daddy and me.

Yes, I shed some tears this morning. It's too quiet here. This is such a surprise to me, these emotions. I'm grieving the loss of what was and will never be again. I spent some time asking God for direction in this new phase of life I'm in. I realize there are new doors He will open, opportunities for ministry and work. But, I still don't like this right now. I want that little girl back with all her spunk and love, her "life's a party" mentality and humor and yes, even her disobedience and destructiveness. It's just way too quiet!

Blonde Confessions

I have what is now becoming a very serious problem. This weekend I locked my keys in the car for the 6th time in 6 years! What is wrong with me? I really thought I was becoming a paranoid schizophrenic about my keys because it is not uncommon for me to check at least twice BEFORE I shut the car door to make sure my keys are in fact in my purse. But, I still did it!

Let me recount that myriad of other instances in which I have accomplished this feat. The first time, I had just moved to Indiana when I locked them in the car at a Pizza Hut. I didn't realize it at the time because I had been talking on the cell phone while my then 1 year old had knocked the keys on the floor after playing with them. After my kids and I had a nice pizza dinner and returned to the car, I panicked after not locating them. Peering in the car, I noticed they were laying on the floor, completely unavailable to me. Of course, Tony had to be in New York and was also completely unavailable to bail me out. That time, I called a locksmith, who thank goodness, seemed to be on call 24/7. Unfortunately, he charged me more than my husband would have.

The second and third occurances were at post offices, and oddly enough, also happened while I was distracted on the cell phone. That blasted phone and my blonde brain are just not a good combination. The fourth happening? I still can't figure this one out, but I locked the keys in my running car at a Wendy's. I didn't think that was actually possible, but apparently it is. Don't try it! The fourth lock-out was at a craft store. Fortunately, this a good place to be when you are waiting for your hubby to rescue you. I shopped until Tony had me paged on the store intercom. All was well once again.

I know you are wondering at this point why I didn't have enough brains to buy a magnetic key box. Tony did too. He strongly encouraged me to drive post haste to the hardware store and buy one of those thingamajigs. Being the submissive wife that I am, I obeyed his urgings. But, alas, I drove around with it sitting IN my car for weeks before I finally lost it. So, I never took care of my problem. Instead, I just became a freak about checking to make sure my keys were in my purse. It didn't help, obviously.

This weekend, while traveling back from a tennis tournament with Nick and Maddie, I locked my keys in the car while pumping gas at a convenience store in a town about an hour from where we live. Not only that, but my cell phone and my purse were in the car. How did you do that, you ask? I have no earthly idea. I mean, I wouldn't have done that! I merely threw the keys in the driver seat while I was standing beside the car waiting for the tank to fill. Personally, I think the force of my throw caused the wrong button to get pushed on the remote which apparently, locked all the doors. My first thought, honestly? "Tony is going to kill me!" My second thought? "Does Tony really need to know about this? I can just call a locksmith, right? What Tony doesn't know doesn't hurt him, right?" Bad idea!

The nice ladies in the convenience store became a big help to me in my efforts to avoid calling hubby by allowing me to use the phone to try my first plan of action...the police! This became my main resource because when I asked them about a locksmith, they gave me blank looks. Ahhh, the police it is! Not such a good idea it turns out. Did you know that vans have an anti-theft locking system installed? Neither did I. The police's antiquated tool doesn't work on these new-fangled vans. I also discovered that itty bitty, hole-in-the-wall towns don't apparently have locksmiths that work when people need them. If you haven't guess it by now, I was at my last resort...hubby! I guess I did give him quite a scare, however, when I told him I was in this tiny town with a policeman beside me. He later told me that he thought I was crying. I wasn't crying; I was scared to tell him my horrible sin!

Needless to say, while the three of us were sitting in the store, waiting an hour for Tony to arrive to unlock the car, we constructively occupied ourselves by playing "I spy with my little eye something...." Not many have the opportunity to spend such quality time together. Well, we had to do something to keep Maddie from bouncing off the walls. She wanted to eat everything she in sight, and I only had 3 dollars in my pocket because my purse was in the lock-up. Two of those dollars came from the nice policeman because Maddie said she wanted something to drink. The boldness of a 6-year-old. My 16-year-old would have died rather than admit he was thirsty or hungry yet had no money. So, this little guessing game entertained the energizer bunny, aka Maddie, for the next hour until you-know-who arrived.

My knight in shining armor rode in an hour later on his white steed and rescued his princess from her idiotic predicament...complete without a "what were you thinking" or a "I can't believe you did it again". He even took us all out to the DQ for an ice cream. What a man! My next goal besides getting a more brunette brain is to buy another key box!

There is a spiritual application to this story. How many times do I repeat the same sin, am afraid to confess to my Savior (as if He doesn't already know), and wait from Him to rescue me? Jesus delights when I come to Him, admit my mistakes and my shame and ask for help. He isn't standing there with a baseball bat, either, saying, "I can't believe you did this again. When are you going to learn?" While I am attempting to get help through other means, Jesus is waiting for me to crawl into His arms full of love and forgiveness. I simply need to quit trying to do things on my own, conjuring up my own faulty solutions to my problems and run to my rescuer. He's waiting!

"What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7:24-25

"...he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us." Psalm 103:10-12

"'Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He was call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. Psalm 91:14-15

Do You Have Any Glue?

My 6-year-old daughter believes that glue is the answer to all life's problems! If something is broken, simply glue it back together. So, when she came to me after ripping apart one of those long, stringy hand toys that one throws against the wall only to watch it slowly slide down, I had to explain the truth to her. "Honey, you can't glue everything back together." She stomped her feet with an adamant, "Yes, you can."

You see, she's had a lot of experience with glue since she is my most destructive child, and in all actuality, her dad has salvaged quite a few things she has broken (all by accident, of course.) There was the time that she dropped a momento given to me from our exchange student in Thailand...you can barely see the crack where my husband glued it back together. But, what about the lamp that was destroyed through carelessness or some of my jewelry that she "accidently" ruined due to seeing what would happen if she stretched that bracelet out as far as possible? Gone forever!

After arguing for a few seconds about repairing the cheap toy, she relented while I told her to throw the broken whatchamacallit away. She wanted to keep it and refused to throw it in the garbage. Did I mention that she's also a pack rat of broken and junky toys? This is an entirely different problem, however, since my subject is the benefits or lack thereof of glue on certain objects.

Yes, glue does not fix everything. Looking at my life, I can plainly see that. Sure, there are some things that can be repaired, but not without a scar, a crack, or some other evidence that something was broken. Marriages can be like this when someone betrays trust, yet the couple works together to stay married. However, not all broken relationships can be mended. No amount of glue will work. That's when the party has to agree that it's not going to be restored and moving on is for the best. This is extremely painful, much more so than a bracelet broken accidently. Although I mourned (shortly) the loss of my accessory, it wasn't a life-changing event, like my divorce. Unfortunately, glue just didn't have enough stickability for that. The break was irreparable; the damage done. This is when I had to, in a much deeper soul-searching way, realize that a patch job wasn't going to mend the brokenness. And, although my heart was hurt, and my life changed, God picked up those broken pieces, and did what no amount of glue could ever do. Just like a potter has the authority to reshape clay, so he took my broken life and pieced it together into something beautiful.

No, glue can't fix everything, but God can take our tattered selves, our scattered pieces and bring out something new, so that His glory can shine through. We become a new piece created to reflect His work and magnificence in our lives. That is something to celebrate!




Posted at 03:21 pm by astongerComment (1) Permalink