the Listener's post

You Wanna Talk About What?

2010-11-02T17:13:00.000-04:00

So we sat down for dinner the other night, and this is how my almost-8-year-old decided to start the table time discussion: “Ok Dad – what’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done?”

I almost choked. Seriously? You’re only seven! Do you really want to go there already? I thought, wide-eyed. I mean, in the Christian household, this conversation can rank right up there with the sex talk. Ironically the sex talk doesn’t scare me that much because I’ve had the, um, pleasure (?) of giving that talk to other people’s kids a hundred times. For some of them it came much, much too late, so now I fear I’ve fallen into the embarrassingly-open-about-that-subject category to my kids. Oh, they will have the sex talk. But the dumbest thing ever talk? I’m not prepared for that one yet.

Thankfully the fact that his age still registers in the single digit side of the scale clicked in our heads before there was any major omission of guilt on either of our parts. Dad did mention something about a 50 foot bridge that I’m hoping went right over his laughing little head, but it didn’t take us too long after that to realize that in his mind “dumbest thing ever” equated with “goofiest thing to make your friends laugh”, and not some giant gateway into the moral philosophy behind how a life should be lived. Whew. Crisis averted. For the moment.

The thing is, one day I will have to tell my kids the some of the dumbest things I’ve ever done. It’s not that I haven’t shared these things with anyone before, or even that I haven’t confessed them in front of a room full of teenagers – because I have. It’s not that I’m ashamed of anything in my past or that I hold a secret criminal record or anything, it’s just that this time it’s going to be my kids learning about my flaws and not someone else’s. My kids finding out that mom has broken the rules before. My kids discovering that their very own “Smother” who is too afraid to let them have fun sometimes has herself flirted with mortal danger a time or two in the name of fun. And the fact behind it all is that I don’t want to be that exposed in front of them.

I mean, I know my kids are well aware that I am not by any stretch of anyone’s Disney-sized imagination perfect. They’ve seen me at my weakest and worst. Just ask my five year old, who, during prayer requests the other day asked his church class to please pray for “the dragon that drove me here”. Um, that would be me. The dragon. You get my point.

They know I’m not perfect, but I’m realizing that they need to know something else about me – they need to know I’m real. This has always been an important part of ministry to me, and I’ve gone to great lengths to let other people’s teenagers know that I am approachable and real in every way I know how to be. They can ask me any question and will get as honest an answer as I know to give. It’s just hitting me, though, that I need to be just as transparent with my own kids as they get older. There will be certain boundaries, yes, but they need to see that I’ve messed up before in some pretty big ways, and it all turned out ok because of Jesus. They need to know that we all do dumb things and God loves us anyway (but, of course, that life is so much better when we try to avoid certain dumb things all together… I am still their mom…).

So tonight I’ll probably do what I do most nights while they’re in the shower. I’ll straighten the sheets and blankets on their bed, essentially making it up before they get in it. There’s something about a made-up bed that seems like a fresh start to me – a chance to crawl into a smooth space, close our eyes and let God wipe our slate clean before we wake up and start to scribble on it all over again. So I’ll make up the bed to a prayer for their salvation, and I’ll turn down the sheets to the words, “Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy” as I’ve done so many times before. Later I’ll tuck them in and together we’ll say our prayers, only tonight I might add a request for the Lord to help me be real with them in a way that will help them see who He has been in my life and who He will always be in theirs. Perhaps tomorrow He’ll show me how to do just that…

…hopefully without having to confess any of my truly dumbest moments, but we’ll see.

Until then,

Samantha

Getting Over It

2010-10-21T17:31:00.001-04:00

Ok, so I’m a pouter. And from what I’ve observed in my own children, that probably means I’m spoiled too. I can’t say that I can always remember being a pouter, but I guess that matters little much now.

So what am I pouting about? See, there’s the thing about it: I can’t tell you. If I told you what I was pouting about, then it would be complaining. At that point I would at best be a complainer, but most likely I would be a complainer and a pouter, which is totally worse than just the pouting itself. So I’ll just keep my mouth shut and preserve the one label, if you don’t mind.

But I will say I’m working on it. It may not seem like it if you live with me or spend much time around me, but I am trying my best to “get over it” as I’ve been advised to do so many times in so many ways lately.

“Getting over it” is a funny thing for a pouter like me. The people who say it – and genuinely mean it without ill intent – seem to think that there’s a switch you can flip that makes all the hurt and confusion that are fueling your attitude just *POOF* disappear. Well, if you happen to be a pouter too and you’ve actually found the location of said switch, please, please, PLEASE send me a detailed diagram mapping out its location, would ya? ‘Cause I’ve been looking and I can’t for the life of me find it.

That said, in the present absence of such an allusive instant cure to my bratty heartache, all I can offer is a plea for patience. I am working on it. And one day I’m sure I’ll look back and laugh at the fact that I had this emotional tantrum at all. Ok, well, maybe not laugh, but ….

Anyway, enough with all of it. Tonight is, after all, one of those healing kinds that make me not want to be a pouter anymore. We’re all sitting out on our new deck, surrounded by the golden fall sunlight and a hearty breeze. The kids are busy climbing the tree and throwing “dirt bombs” (you might not want to ask), and my husband is serenading me with the guitar. In a few short minutes we’ll retire inside to dinner and a movie because it’s Family Night, the one night when no one goes anywhere and we all do something together. Later I’ll tuck my beautiful boys into their warm, paid for beds, and my husband and I will snuggle on the couch while I make him watch a new episode of Grey’s. Honestly, who could really want more than this anyway?

I mean, after all, not every woman has a man who will watch Grey’s, right?

Trying Something New

2010-10-16T22:40:00.001-04:00

Just playing around with a new design. Change is good, right? Not sure I'll stay with this one, but it's a start!

Living Water Restoration

2010-10-11T09:10:00.002-04:00

When we moved here more than four years ago, the Lord let me in on a little secret: This place is like living water for you – My Living Water. I was taking a walk the morning He spoke that truth to me, and I remember standing by a creek in the park and crying out of the sheer joy of knowing that restoration was coming.

I thought then that maybe I was getting a break of sorts. I had come from a very lonely and disconnected place in life, and I was hoping that this living water would mean I was getting plugged back in – that new growth was about to spring forth on the dry, brittle branches of my heart and I was going to be a part of the living, breathing, walking body of Christ once again.
And it did mean that. There was growth, and new things did spring up on my heart and in my life. But I had no way of knowing that morning in the park, standing by the creek, that the living water the Lord had so graciously given me was in my life more for the sake of things to come than to repair the things that had already been.

I’ve been through quite a bit in the past four years. Some of it I talk about, some of it I don’t. There are parts that have made me a better, stronger person, and other parts that have indelibly marked who I am in ways I can’t even comprehend yet – ways that have made me a stranger to myself. It sounds backwards to say, but in the midst of this swirling, vibrant living water, something inside of me has died.

I don’t come to that conclusion lightly – it’s an ugly reality that I struggle with recognizing, but it is real. Somewhere, at some point, I stuffed a dirty bandage of bitterness and indifference over an open wound on my heart, and it grew into an unhealthy, inappropriate callous. It felt good at the time to have some protection – to catch a break from things incessantly rubbing against the open, painful blister of fresh disappointments and traumas. But without proper care and the air it needed to heal, that nasty gash in my spirit was allowed to fester and become necrotic, and now I find myself with a numb spot where there used to be such great feeling.

I’m saddened that this has happened, but I know two things that keep me going: 1. Nothing (not even this) is permanent except God’s love, and 2. He allowed this to happen in the midst of living water so He could sustain the rest of me and nurse me back to health when I finally ask for help.

So yes, something has died in me. There is unmistakably a numb spot on my heart covered over by layers of filthy, reeking homemade patches that were never meant to heal – only suppress and protect. But it’s time to let the Maker of my heart – the One who raises the rotting from the dead – cut me open and excise this lesion from my soul. It’s time to let Him restore me through His Living Water and make me more the person He intended me to be than I ever was even before the wound occurred. Only He can do that, you know – “restore” something to a place that is far better than it’s original, mint condition could have ever been. It’s time to let Him do that. It’s past time.

So here I am. I’m trying to live my life on purpose for the next little while, and this is part of a
first step. I’m blogging AND I’m being vulnerable. To a degree I had quit both because I figured people were tired of listening to what I had to say in either arena. But I can’t just sit here all wrapped up in my numb spot any more – I’ve got to try and be real and alive for a moment so His healing doesn’t kill me. It’s kind of like spiritual chemo, I guess. I’ve got to decide to fight and live my life even if it hurts for a bit, so what He’s doing can take root and grow.

So here it is: step one. It sounds dark, but it’s really not a bad place to be, because I know He has great things coming. It’s because of that end that I’m almost looking forward to the hard times to come. The pain of tearing those wounds open – yet deeper this time – is worth letting His water flow over them to make them stronger. I am grateful for this place, and thankful that He has allowed me to be here for such a time as this.

Come, Lord Jesus, and let the restoration begin!

About Last Night....

2010-05-03T21:11:00.002-04:00

People ask me all the time if there is something I miss about my home state of Florida, and for the most part I’d have to say good thunderstorms. I know that sounds weird to some of you, but to me there is little better than just laying around listening to the rain and a good rumble from the sky. I love it, and I miss it here – our thunderstorms in East Tennessee are just, well, different. And they tend to enjoy showing up in the middle of the night. Take last night for example.

I knew the storms were coming before we went to bed, and that meant I also knew we could be in for a long night. You see, in my boys’ eyes thunderstorms are not peaceful or fun, but horrible moments of absolute panic-stricken terror. That is to say, they don’t like them. So I kind of slept with “one ear open”, listening for scared little voices calling my name in between heavenly drum rolls.

Somewhere around 2:30 I heard it. Muffled – as it would be – through two closed doors and over the sound of our “background noise” fan that runs all night – my oldest screaming at the top of his lungs: “Mama!!!! Moooooooom!!!!”

I bolted out of that bed faster than might be humanly possible, ripped open the bedroom door and ran across the hall perhaps without even touching the floor in an effort to reach my terrified child. What I saw next froze me in my steps.

Only an instant had passed since I had heard the scream that was so obviously the voice of this precious boy I have known for the past seven and a half years, and yet there he was: blissfully sound asleep, guarded by the steady, warm glow of his Knight light. It wasn’t him. Could I have mistaken Little Man’s voice for his brother’s? I had to check! As quickly and quietly as I could, I made my way to door number two, sure that I’d find a shaking, wide-eyed little boy.

And yet the scene was the same – no tears or pleas for help, only the sweet expression of a tired boy coupled with the soft sounds of slumber.

Confused, I crawled back in bed and tried to sort it out. If I hadn’t heard the boys, then what? Had I lost my mind?

Then it came again:

“Mom? Moooom!”

Now I was creeped out. Officially and totally creeped out. This wasn’t my kid! This child must be standing outside! Maybe even in my driveway! In the rain!

I sat up and strained to listen for more cries for help. My ears were tuned to someplace beyond my room – someplace outside and unimaginable, while a million different scenarios racing through my mind. Was he lost? He must be in just his pjs! How did he get outside?

I held my breath and listened intently. I could hear something, but I couldn’t make out quite what it was. Was it crying? Whining? What was that noise?

Suddenly a strange thought occurred to my rattled brain: maybe you’re listening too hard. Maybe it’s not where you think it is. So I reeled in my attention. I focused on the things right around me, the things that seemed too close to emanate a distant scream – the things that I had overlooked before in an effort to just skip to the point and meet the emergency at hand.

Things like my husband. My husband’s nose, to be exact.

It would seem that Mr. Roberts was a little congested last evening, which caused his nose to usher forth a whining, whistling sound when he exhaled. Once I tuned in to the sound of these “nose whistles”, I immediately noticed that about every third and fourth breath they sounded a lot like the muffled cries of a child. “Mom! Moooooom!!!”

Oh my word! You have no idea what a relief and simultaneous annoyance it was to discover this! The frightened, lost little boy standing in my driveway during a thunderstorm was safe at home, sleeping through the rumbles and rolls from the sky. My husband, on the other hand, was just about to wake up….

The night did go on to yield a very frightened extra roommate about half an hour after I had finally convinced myself that all was right with homeless children in my neighborhood, and that I could finally fall asleep. It was somewhere between getting kicked by little cold feet and trying not to fall off a bed that was obviously not made for three people that a strange realization washed over me: there was something to be learned from the night of the nose screams.

All at once I came to realize that I have been listening too hard for the voice of my Savior lately. I’ve been asking too many questions, analyzing too many things, worrying about way too much – all in the name of seeking “His will” for my life. But it suddenly occurred to me that in all that effort to search out something so far away – something so mysterious and scarily hidden – that I’ve completely missed the fact that the voice I want to hear is right here with me.

Jesus is closer to me than my own breath, and though His voice can be quieter even than the whistle of a nose, it’s right here within my reach. I’m the one who has made it out to be so far away, so unobtainable. All this time I’ve thought He was hiding – deliberately standing just around the next corner taunting me to find Him – but no. He’s right here with me, waiting for me to reel in the over-excited ears of my heart, to take a moment to calm down and really listen to the voice that has never stopped whispering my name during the storm.

I can’t wait to hear what He’s been trying to say.

I Think I Bought A Lamborghini

2010-03-02T20:24:00.001-05:00

A little over a week ago, we went shopping. Shopping for what I thought was supposed to be a new oven and range. We went to all the requisite stores and heard all the commissioned sales pitches about what we should buy, and what we shouldn’t, and wand we really want, and what we won’t be happy with (isn’t it funny how a potential sale somehow turns otherwise strangers into experts on the level of happiness and wellbeing in your home?). And then we made a decision. One based purely on research and fact. Well, research and fact that told us there was a massive sale and this place had free delivery and haul-away, anyway.

Now let me back up and say that a month ago we weren’t in the market for a new oven. In fact, a month ago I could have listed a hundred other things in our lives that would have received $400 worth of attention well before an oven was even brought up as a potential candidate (not excluding a slew of Star Wars Legos for my husband, of course). But this funny little thing called the Super Bowl happened, and we invited the youth over to watch and feast. The watching wasn’t the problem. It was the feasting. Our oven wasn’t up to feasting that night apparently. In fact, it only allowed us about an hour and a half of feast prep before there was a pop and a flash and everything went cold.

For those of you familiar with the oven world, you already know that the pop and flash syndrome is not good. Not good at all. For the rest of us, a simple Google search of error code F1 tells us all we need to know about a little part called the “electronic oven control”. A little part that just so happens to cost about as much as a new range – before what it would cost to pay someone armed with more knowledge than what you can gain through YouTube videos to fix it (no offense, honey – that really was an awesome resource idea, but the dryer you “fixed” now makes a really funny noise and I’m pretty sure that fire extinguisher has now found a permanent new home by its side. Just sayin’.). So, in the market we were.

We started out assuming that we would wind up with another coil range. Primitive by the standards of some, I understand, but much closer to our price range than them modern contraptions. Then, of course, came that massive sale (at the place with the free delivery and haul away, did I mention that?). So we wound up with a nice, black, smooth-top range with a ton of fancy-looking buttons up top. That has to make it worth every penny of that sale price, right? Fancy buttons? I mean, come on!

What pushed our decision over the edge to go smooth over same-priced coil (I’m telling you, big sale), was the promise from salesmen and mother-in-law alike that the smooth top was infinitely easier to clean. Easier and clean in the same sentence? Sold! Now I know better for next time: When being told by a salesman how easy something is to clean, you’d better stop and ask them what kind of car they drive and how clean it is. Because I’m thinking it’s directly related.

I spend more time polishing, buffing and wiping down that stove top than I do tending to my children some days. I’m serious – this thing requires more attention and maintenance than both of our fish aquariums and our cat combined. It’s ridiculous.

Ok, maybe it’s just because the guy who delivered it scared me within an inch of my retail life by telling me that the slightest movement of any pan would scratch the surface – and a scratched burner is “completely ruined and useless” (not so, says the manual, by the way). Or maybe it’s because within 5 days of having the stove, I committed said offense and left a half-inch skid mark because I mindlessly slid a pan away from the edge. Who knows. All I know is that I’m completely paranoid about this stove top. I cover it with silicone cookie mats when it’s not in use in case it is mistaken for a countertop, and I’m currently looking for a covered fry pan with a non-offending bottom surface to replace the old one which is now indefinitely in time-out. I clean it each time it’s used, and practice my “wax-on, wax-off” moves at least every other day (Karate Kid, here I come!). It’s wearing on me.

You know, it’s nice to have something new, with all kinds of fancy buttons to push, but I’m starting to understand that people who drive Lamborghinis are probably ridden with all kinds of stress and anxiety issues that the rest of us who drive 20 year old Chevys will never know. Because who cares if a minivan gets scratched?

So maybe I should have settled for a more practical model – the Ford of coil ranges or something. I’m really second guessing the decision to go for the flashier build. But be it Ford or Lamborghini, let’s just hope that the stove I purchased at least likes Super Bowl parties.

And – for right now, anyway – I might appreciate it if it at least didn’t turn out to be a Toyota.

Thoughts of Thumbs and Lids

2010-02-22T08:25:00.002-05:00

I’ve heard it said that the English language is one of the hardest – if not the hardest – in the world for someone to learn as a second language. I, for one, believe it. I mean, there are so many “exceptions to the rule” and weird things like homophones and homonyms that even those of us who were born in English-speaking countries can’t even seem to get it straight most of the time.

Take the word “depression” for instance. Other words like it that start with a “de” seem to imply that an action has been undone. Like my dehumidifier that takes the humidity out of the air. Or the video games that desensitize our kids to violence. But depressed certainly doesn’t fit that pattern, does it? In fact, it has quite the opposite meaning.

I wish I could say that depression meant that some kind of pressure was actually being removed from your shoulders, allowing you at last to stand up tall and proud and go about your life. If that were the case, these past couple of months would have been a breeze around here. But no. Sadly in this case the “de” at the beginning of this word has absolutely no meaning at all. The rest of the word hasn’t been wasted on me lately, though – I’ve felt every ounce of the “press” in my life.

The picture I get when I think of the word “depression” is kind a ridiculous one, I must admit. I think of those little bubbles on the plastic lids you get from fast food stores. You know the ones, right? The ones that say “Cola” or “DP” or Other”? For some reason when I think of the word “depression” I picture a giant thumb slowly pressing down and crushing one of those little bubbles until it flips inward, creating a perfectly opposite impression of the way it used to be. Get it? The bubble is now “depressed”. And, to boot, it has also made a “depression” in the lid. Ok, so maybe it’s not all that ridiculous.

That’s kind of where I’ve been the past few months. Wallowing in a caved-in, totally opposite impression of who I know myself to be. I haven’t thought like myself, acted like myself or even loved like myself. I’ve just been kind of numb – paralyzed in a sense by an unseen giant thumb pressing down upon my heart. It’s been pretty ugly.

Funny enough, I couldn’t even admit it at first. I just laid there, weakly flailing my arms like a bug pinned to a board trying to convince the world and myself that, “No, really….I’m ok….I’ve got this….” But, you know, eventually some things become just too obvious to ignore anymore. So I’m admitting it. My “other” beverage button has been pushed in on my lid for quite some time now – I am depressed.

Now before you go away from this blog thinking that I’ve been spending my days dressed in black flannel pjs and sleeping in the fetal position with a box of tissues by my side, it’s not like that. Depression doesn’t always have to be so, well, depressing. But it certainly hasn’t been fun either. Discouragement has been my constant companion, and I just haven’t felt like trying to do anything that used to bring me joy. Like writing, for one thing. It’s true, I haven’t written anything at all since that last post in October. Not like me.

Even when I’ve thought about writing, I’ve avoided posting because I knew it wouldn’t be very encouraging, and I don’t want to be a bummer to everyone. I’m pretty sure I’ve already been labeled a drama queen around here, and there was no reason in my mind to bore the rest of you with all of that. But I figured it was time to try and get back on this horse and ride – so a bummer or not, I had to just sit down and start pressing keys. I guess it’s more for me than anything, but I just had to something to try and kick-start myself.

So, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if this post is a downer. They’ll get better eventually, and so will I! God has bigger plans for me than just sitting around feeling sorry for myself, and I’m looking forward to moving on with them. For now I’m just taking a few more moments to snuggle in His arms and confess my confusion and sadness. And – like the good Father He is – He will continue to hold me and comfort me until just the right time, when He’ll gently slide me off His knee, take my hand and suggest that we find something fun to do together. He’s such a good Dad, isn’t He?

I’ve got to run for now, but I hope this has been enough to kick-start me back into something good. Maybe I’ll see you back here again soon, huh?

I hope so!

Measuring With The Wrong Stick

2009-10-20T09:37:00.005-04:00

Ok, so I know I’ve been absent for a while. I could give you all kinds of excuses about how we went on vacation for Fall Break, and how it rained for what seemed like a million days straight and I couldn’t get my head right, and how I’ve been distracted from just about everything by just about everything else (is that even technically possible?), but if you’re anything like my high school band director, you don’t want to hear any excuses. So, just in case you’re one of those who don’t like them: No excuses. I’ve been gone, and today I’m back.

I think I’m going through another one of those weird seasons in my life where I’m just not sure what to think about myself from day to day. I don’t know why I go through these cycles, but this latest one is particularly…well, personal. I don’t know, is it strange to take your own self-criticism too personally? Well, strange or not, that’s where I am.

It’s just that I’ve always been an achiever. For so long my life was measured in milestones and accomplishments, and then I began to live my life for something else. Suddenly the achievements didn’t matter so much. I began to realize that my GPA or class ranking really wasn’t the most important thing about me, and that my greatest attribute didn’t really have anything to do with me at all. Christ became the best part of me, and I let it rest in that. I knew that He must become more and I must become less.

So how is it that now, some 16 years later, I’ve once again returned to a place where I’m measuring my life with a sad ruler marked by other people’s accomplishments? Lately all I seem to be able to think about is the fact that I’m 31 and I haven’t even come close to “arriving” at the same place as other people my age. This one has a PhD, that one is a doctor. She has twins, is in ministry, and still has time to do all the things I’ve said I can’t do because I have children and am too busy with youth (and she does them very, very well). She’s written a book, he owns a business. I look at that, and I feel like I’m watching a ship sail away from the dock where I’m standing, knowing that everyone on board is headed for something I’m going to miss.

How dumb is that?

I mean, really?

And yet I let it get to me. I argue that I wish I just knew something – like really knew something on a very educated, expert level – that could actually help someone. After all, that’s the way I’m wired. I love to learn, and I love to help people. And right now, I feel like I’m doing neither of those things. I’ve backed off from working with youth (unintentionally), and I’m not studying a thing. It just makes me feel stagnant. And then it makes me feel sub-par on some level. And then I look right back to that ugly ruler filled with other people’s lives, and it makes me feel lost.

I had been marinating in these thoughts for a while, when I stood in my kitchen and looked out a rather dirty window the other day. It was then that things began ever so slightly to change.

You see, fall is in full swing here. I can’t believe that I grew up thinking my grandfather was nuts for driving all the way to Tennessee just to see “some dumb leaves”. Oh, had I known what I was missing, I believe I would have hitched a ride. I love fall. I love hillsides blazing with reds and oranges and yellows. I love the crispness in the air and the total change in atmosphere. I secretly even love football season (but DON’T tell my husband…). I love fall!

So the other day I took just a second to peek out my kitchen window and look at the mountain behind my house. This time of year that mountain is like something from a painting, with its dusky browns and bright patches of life-giving orange and red. But for some reason, that day it wasn’t quite as beautiful as it could have been. Something was muted about it, flat and not at all what I remembered that mountain looking like before. What could have possibly happened to an entire mountain in its annual prime to make it so boring and average?

It took me a second to figure it out, but I finally realized that the problem didn’t lie in the mountain at all. Instead, as I pulled my gaze back to something a little closer, I realized that my window had become horribly dirty. Spider webs clouded it from the outside, and something had obviously splashed against it from the inside, leaving a map of filmy white drips when it dried (I can probably thank a certain 4 year old for that, but I digress…).

Then it hit me. There wasn’t a thing wrong with that mountain – it’s still perfectly beautiful, just as God intended it to be. What was blemished was my point of view. I was instantly struck with the realization that my life is no different.

God doesn’t see me as sub-par, or lost, or stagnant or left behind. He sees me as perfectly beautiful, just as He intended. I may not be a medical doctor or using a master’s degree to counsel people with serious issues, but I’m who I am because this is the life God has for me. I’m the mom of two kids and the wife of one man, and the sound tech and taxi driver for the youth. I’m an occasional speaker and a wannabe writer, and child of the living and active God. I’m just what He created me to be in this season, and He isn’t done – I might not have even hit my “fall” yet. If I can’t see that, it’s because I’ve allowed something to cloud my point of view. It’s my eyes that aren’t measuring up, not my life.

So I’m vowing to do two things in my near future, and the first is to break that stupid ruler I’ve been using. I want to get back to a place where I’m really living like Jesus is the best part of me and that I don’t need anything else to make me whole. I realize it might take a little time to stop comparing, but I’ll get there eventually.

And the second thing I’m going to do?

Clean that nasty kitchen window.

Happy fall, y’all!

L is For...

2009-09-28T08:12:00.006-04:00

I think I’m having a low self-esteem day. It’s hard to say because it’s only 7:00 in the morning and I’ve only really been awake about 45 minutes, but it definitely feels like a low self-esteem day already.

I kind of go through seasons like this, where, if we lived back in the days of The Scarlet Letter, I’d be wearing frocks embroidered with a giant, bright red letter “L” for “Loser”. Or at least that’s how it feels, anyway. I just can’t seem to get much of anything right, no matter how hard I try.

Most of it comes from opening my big, fat mouth. Oh, how the world would be better off some days if I were struck mute for a moment or two! I am Queen of the Awkward Word, Master of the Misspoken, Grand Duchess of Things Better Left Unsaid. I know this about myself, and still I insist on exercising my voice. When will I learn?

It seems, on days like this, like an impossible trait to escape. I want to do better, to be more honorable with my tongue, to be a few leagues closer to “faultless” in my speech, but it seems like something so engrained in my make-up that getting rid of it would be about as easy as scrubbing off freckles.

Oh to be rid of this sin! To be free from this fault! To be able to walk into a room of women and breathe easy knowing that I’m not about to verbally lay waste to all I’ve ever thought well about myself!

The only thing I know to do today to rise above it all is to pray for forgiveness and help from my one and only Savior, while remembering words He has just recently whispered my heart: You have been saved from bigger things than this, and you have been saved for better things than this.

Those words are taken a little out of context in this situation, but I think they apply all the same. He has plans for me – plans that go well beyond being a big-mouthed loser – and He won’t let anything stand in the way of them, not even me.

So, in light of that reminder, I’m going to get off this couch in a few minutes and get started with my day. I think I’ll choose to live with the knowledge that in Christ I can overcome anything – even something as big as my tongue – and not let it hold me hostage today. I might even wear something other than a red-lettered “Loser” shirt (I’d have to do laundry to wear one anyway….I’ve pretty much exhausted my supply lately). But, if it’s all the same to you, I think I might take a break from phone calls and knitting circles for a moment…

…after all, silence is golden.

Sometimes Hyenas Are No Laughing Matter

2009-09-16T17:21:00.002-04:00

Monday was a teacher work day at school (otherwise known to my son as a “get out of jail free” day), so my man took a much-needed personal day and the four of us spent some family time together at the zoo. Though we’ve been to the zoo many, many times and I’ve never noticed this before, I discovered something interesting about myself this visit: I think I have a lot in common with hyenas.

Now I wish I could say that I came about this comparison because I laugh a lot, or because I can be pretty rambunctious and playful. But I’m afraid the analogy runs to a deeper, more primal place of animal behavior, and I can’t say I’m proud of it.

In my ladies’ Bible study right now we are going through Beth Moore’s study on the Patriarchs (I highly recommend it, by the way, but then again – it’s Beth Moore….I highly recommend anything God shares through her). Last week during the video session, Beth spoke about how we, who are fully and purposefully blessed by God, tend to always want someone else’s blessing instead of our own. We have a great family, but hers is bigger. We have a ministry God has called us to, but we wish there was a little more to it. Our house is nice, but… You get the picture.

Beth encouraged us that while this is a common human experience, we need to confront this kind of spiritual jealousy head-on and get rid of it, because it gets in the way of us accepting, appreciating and participating in the call God has specifically placed on our lives for His purposes. Her words pricked my heart, and I began to see that I had a lot of work to do in this area. I vowed to think more about it later, and then tried to let it slip my mind so I wouldn’t have to.

Then I found myself standing in front of the hyena and wild dog exhibit at the zoo Monday morning, and it all came to me in a way I couldn’t avoid.

One of the zoo keepers was preparing to feed them a treat as we got there, so we stuck around for a minute to see what would happen. She threw three boxes about the size and shape of a to-go box from a chicken place into the pen – one for each hyena present – and let them go at it.

Immediately the youngest two hyenas dashed for the prizes. They each grabbed a box and started to tear into it to find the meat, but then one of them realized there was a third box that the older hyena hadn’t gotten to yet. He then left his own box to steal the unclaimed one, and the real games began.

Both of the younger hyenas would only spend a few, short seconds trying to get to the meat before they would realize that the other one was either making progress on his box, or had left the third box completely unguarded. Then they would once again abandon their own box to try and steal another. This went on and on until eventually they had pecked at some of the boxed enough that there was actually some meat exposed. Wanna know what they did then? Did they give up the fight and enjoy the spoils of plunder? No way! They left the meat on the ground and kept trying to steal more for themselves!

I watched their silly little antics unfold, and realized that in my spirit lately I haven’t behaved much better than them. You see, I have my blessings – blessings that God has given just to me for a very specific purpose according to the things He desires to do through my life on this earth. He has been so good to me in so many undeserved ways, and yet I sulk and pout about what it is I think I don’t have.

I know the ugly truth of my hyena heart every time I find it hard to rejoice with my friends over the great things the Lord has done in their lives, and all too easy to sit back and wonder how great it would be if that happened to me instead. I know that sounds horrible, and I’m really ashamed to admit it, but it is the naked truth in my life right now. I’ve been given a perfectly good box with a delicious piece of the Lord’s blessing inside, but instead of enjoying it and digging in, I’ve been chasing after the boxes of others I somehow hope have been left unguarded.

Now I’m not trying to say that I’m a vicious opportunist, or a lying manipulator or anything. I’d like to think I’m pretty good about keeping my sin to myself, and I hope I haven’t outwardly hurt anyone with my ambitions. The truth remains, however, that I have been ambitious in things that aren’t my own to pursue. I have had my eyes on boxes that don’t belong to me, and because of it I’ve overlooked my own blessing and have dared to leave it even partially unguarded.

Lysa Terkeurst says that whenever you find yourself wishing you had another’s blessing instead of your own, you should remind yourself that you aren’t equipped to handle whatever it is she faces on a daily basis, both good and bad. I believe that. God has equipped each of us to respond to His specific call on our lives, and we will only fail if we abandon His perfect plan and try to fill someone else’s shoes. I know this, but I’m looking forward to the day that my heart finally catches up with my head.

Anyway, I hope to encourage you today to look at the state of your own heart. Are you content with your “box” of blessings from the Lord? Or do you too struggle with a hyena heart that seems to always grapple for what your neighbor has? Ask God to show you by way of helping you realize all He has given you in this life. Take some time today to breathe in the joy of undeserved blessings, and to rest in the knowledge that God has a plan for this life that is just for you.

Thanks for reading, and for letting me have a moment of confession. I hope you have a truly blessed week.

King Me

2009-09-09T14:05:00.003-04:00

Ok, folks. I've found it: The secret to actually getting work done around my house. And it comes from a very unlikely source.

Do any of you out there watch the show Kings on NBC? Well, I was just introduced to it, and in a way it's revolutionized my housework schedule. For those of you who aren't familiar with the show, it's a modern kingdom setting loosely based on David and Saul from the Bible. It's really fun to watch it and see where it parallels the Biblical story and where it strays. Not to mention that it's just plain good.

I've just started watching it from the beginning on the internet, but here's the thing: Season one is only available on Hulu until September 20th. That means that I only have a few days left (relatively) to finish out all 12 episodes before they're gone. You would think this would cripple my life to that of a couch potato, but amazingly it hasn't. It has, however, provided me with an odd sense of motivation.

Little Man is a bit under the weather this week, so I knew we wouldn't be heading out today. I had resigned myself to housework and Spongebob for the afternoon. But after starting Kings last night when the boys were in bed and my husband was at Bible study, I came up with a new plan. Watch Kings for a few minutes, then pause it and tackle something in the house - the kitchen, laundry, trash. The anticipation of getting back to the show was more than enough motivation to get the jobs done quickly. I dare say I did more cleaning this way today than I would have otherwise!

So a couch potato I am not. I'd like to think that, instead, I'm a much more productive vegetable. Maybe a carrot? Carrots are good for you, right? That's it - I'm a couch carrot. And my house is all the better for it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some chores to attend to so I can figure out what's going to happen between David and Jack...

Taking Another Route

2009-09-01T09:28:00.002-04:00

I learned a very important lesson yesterday. Well, I guess you could say it took me a good part of the weekend to actually play it out, but yesterday I finally “got” it.

It all started with a new wireless router. The one we had been using was a hand-me-down and worked just fine for what we needed, but now that I’m working from home it has become increasingly necessary to encrypt my network (or in other words: make my neighbors start paying for their own internet service). So I went online, found a great deal on one, and ordered it without hesitation.

It got here late last week, so I set aside a few minutes Saturday to install it. Notice I said a few minutes. I’m sure you could probably guess it took a little more than just a few minutes. Yeah, try more like five hours.

Between my techy brother-in-law and I, we worked on that thing all Saturday afternoon and finally gave up. The reviews had said “easy, quick installation”, but we didn’t happen to agree. Nothing about this was easy or quick.

Monday I called the tech support number on the company’s website and was told that Timmy (THE tech support guy) wouldn’t be in for a couple of hours. I figured at this point I was in trouble, and began researching the steps I’d have to complete to make a return to an online store. It didn’t take much to lead me to believe that my new lesson to learn was somewhere along the lines of either “Don’t buy equipment online” or “Don’t buy anything from a company you’ve never heard of”. But then I called Timmy.

After all that work and manipulating of things I can’t even pronounce that we had tried on our own, Timmy had me go to one little page in the router’s program and change one little number. Seriously – just one digit of an address, and boom! I was connected to the internet and all was once again right in my ridiculously techno-dependant world. It was such a simple solution, but there was no way we could have found it on our own because we weren’t privileged to the same information as my new best friend Timmy.

That’s when the real lesson hit me – if I had just gone to the maker of the product when I realized I was in over my head, I could have saved myself (and my brother-in-law) a lot of frustration.

That whole situation seemed irreparable to me – I was more than certain that there was something unfixably wrong with my computer or that bargain basement router I bought. I was ready to give up on it all and cash in more of the money I already didn’t have to buy a more expensive, just as capable model. It just seemed impossible to get around any other way. In reality, however, the solution was simple for the one who actually knew what he was doing.

How many times in life are we ready to just give up on something (or someone) and cut our losses because we just can’t see how to make things work? If you’re anything like me, you’ve been at that point many times. I often find myself ready to give up on things like family situations, or “ministry opportunities” (isn’t that a nice way to to say “situations that you really don’t want to be involved with”?), or even just my daily grind of life. There are just days when it would be easier to walk away from it all because it seems impossible to find any peace or resolution.

But if I’ve learned anything in my life lately (and yesterday was just a good reminder), it’s that I have got to stop trying to fix those things myself, because I’m just not equipped with all that’s needed to get the job done. There is One, however, Who knows the perfect solution, and He’s always on call.

Jesus is the Rock to which we can always turn, and there is absolutely no situation that could ever present itself in our lives that’s beyond Him. He is all knowing, all seeing, all powerful and totally capable, and with Him nothing is impossible. That’s our God. That’s the One who knows you better than you know yourself, and the One who has the answers to every question you could ever ask. And He’s closer to you than your own breath.

So before you give up on whatever situation is on the last nerve of your heart, turn to the Lord and ask Him for help. He might not always help in the way you expect Him to, but He always has a resolution to every seemingly impossible thing we encounter. Don’t keep beating your head against the wall trying to fix it yourself – turn to the One who made you and has the answers you could never find on your own.

I promise, you’ll never find better “tech support” than Jesus.

What It All Comes Down To

2009-08-20T17:04:00.003-04:00

Last night we had an experience with one of our sons that rocked our world a little bit. I’m sure it won’t be the last time we deal with this issue, but it was most certainly the first time we’ve had to confront it in such a blatant manner.

Last night our son lied to us.

Ok, so he’s lied before – they both have. But never quite so…intentionally. He did something he knew he wasn’t supposed to do, and then he brought it up just so he could tell us that he “didn’t” do it. Too bad he didn’t realize there was a pretty blaring flaw in his alibi that his daddy would (and did) catch immediately after it left his lips.

I’m glad that Dad was in the car, not only because he figured out the truth and we were able to handle it, but also because he was able to actually confront it and announce a fair punishment in a very calm, matter-of-fact voice. I, on the other hand, found myself rather shell-shocked and at a loss for words right at first. I mean, how could this be? My sweet, innocent boy actually premeditating a lie?

We spent the next several minutes walking through what he had done wrong (from the original offense on down through lying about it), and talking about why he shouldn’t lie, how it hurts all of us when he does lie, and how he really has no reason to be mad with us for punishing him because that’s the consequence he chose when he decided to break the rules. I don’t think I have to tell you that it was a long, tearful evening that ended with him asking to go straight to bed instead of taking a shower and eating a snack.

At the end of the night, though, it really all came down to this: I know my son, and I know that he’s a lot like me. I knew that if we left things on a down note, he would beat himself up over all this for the next several days. So before I let him go to sleep I made him look me in the eyes while I told him three separate times, “You are a good boy – you just made a mistake.”

I started to think about it later, and I have a feeling that a lot of us need to hear that. How many times do we do something wrong and then totally beat ourselves up over it because we just can’t let it go? Especially if it is something that we’ve been struggling with not doing? It’s hard to admit that we’ve messed up again, but – if you’re anything like me – it’s even harder, then, to believe that it does not define you as a person.

But you know what? Jesus went to great lengths to come to this earth and die for our sins so we could be a whole lot more than the sum of our mistakes. It’s called grace. And because of it, our Father in Heaven somehow sees us as perfect – covered with the redeeming blood of His son.

Even redeemed people mess up every now and then, though, so just in case you need to hear it, here it is:

You are a good girl – you just messed up.

Now, tell your Daddy you’re sorry and move on, because He’s already let it go. Accept the gift of His grace and rest peacefully tonight knowing that tomorrow is a whole new day full of opportunities to grow and maybe even make a few better decisions.

He loves you, and He’s proud to call you His own.

Deep Thoughts (or not, actually)

2009-08-10T08:29:00.002-04:00

Man, I’m struggling this morning. I have to just come out and say it. Not so much in like a spiritual sense or anything, but to physically get up and get going. Apparently, by the way, there’s a reason why they call it “Instant Breakfast” and not “Instant Something You Drink Part Of Before You Go To Bed”. I don’t know what’s in that stuff, but I might as well had a Mountain Dew last night – I hardly slept at all! And that’s the only thing I can think of that was different about my routine or my diet yesterday. Who knew?

So that, combined with the fact that I accidentally poured too much sugar on my Rice Chex this morning as I was trying to lightly sweeten them, and boom – I’m ready for a long, fat nap. Now all I have to do is convince the grocery shopping, my doctor’s appointment, work, the house cleaning and my rather impetuous four year old to put life on hold so I can actually take that nap. Yeah, I don’t see that happening, do you? I think I’m going to have to figure out something else, and fast.

That all being said, I had great intentions of writing something that actually made sense this morning, but I’m having a hard time at the present moment even thinking anything that makes sense. My head feels like it’s full of a thousand conversations being played back in slow motion. It’s a very heavy, muddled mass of confusion up there, and I just don’t think anything productive is going to come out of it right now. So I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you with an apologetic good morning, and a vow to try and write something more intelligent soon (when I’m not under the influence of Instant Breakfast and sugar).

I guess I’ll go now, get dressed, drive to the store with Little Man, shop for groceries, fight over why we don’t need yet another pointless toy, brainstorm a week’s worth of meals, and decide on something for lunch so I can come home and haul it all upstairs and put it away.

Time Out.

That nap’s sounding like a really good idea…

Invasion of the Sanity Snatchers

2009-08-01T10:02:00.001-04:00

Oh mercy, friends. We’ve been battling head lice at our house this past week.

Bugs. In our hair. Yuck.

I think I’ve tried every homeopathic treatment (and one not-so-homeopathic treatment) I’ve found on the internet, and though it has gotten 98% better, there is still the issue of every now-and-then finding one tiny little egg. Then you have to wonder, is it an old egg that I somehow missed, or is it a new one and we have to start over?

Not to mention to whole physiological phenomenon of feeling lice whenever you think about them, regardless of whether you have them or not. You know, like some of you are probably itching right now just reading these words. You have no reason, really, to think that you have lice, but what if you itched and it really could be them? Do you know how many times a day I’ve thought about lice over the past week? That’s a lot of phantom itching that starts to make you wonder….do I have lice, or am I going crazy?

Or is it both?

This is definitely now the number two question on my short list of things to ask Jesus when I get to heaven. Number one is still why do men have what we refer to on our boys as “chest buttons” (I mean, seriously, why do they need them?). But what’s up with head lice is now firmly planted at number two. I’d really love to know what was going through His holy head on that one. There’s gotta be a reason, right?

I can honestly say, however, that this whole experience has changed something in me. I now know that when we get that little slip of paper in the backpack from school that says “Your child has been exposed to lice in the classroom”, that it’s really an urgent prayer request for a struggling family sent out by an institution that’s not allowed to officially ask for prayer. If they have to mask it as a “warning”, then so be it. But I now know the truth: Someone out there needs some spiritual intervention before they lose their religion over piles and piles of laundry, hours of vacuuming, and days of treating and combing nearly invisible specks out of the heads of impatient, wiggly little kids who can’t go to school even though they most certainly feel well enough to wreck the house.

So please pray for us, and for the thousands of other families this week who found their wheels spinning in a different direction the moment their kid reached up and furiously scratched his innocent little head. I know that they, like us, would love to have their lives back.

Next time I get a chance to write, I have something I want to share about God’s heart that I learned last week (you know, before our sense of peace and security was invaded). But for now I’m afraid I have to run…

…I think I just felt something move in my hair.

Sorry For The Wait

2009-07-24T10:52:00.004-04:00

The day was August 23, 1991 (which, by the way, was not the day after I wrote my last post on this blog, though it would seem like it), and I was at my field of dreams – Braves stadium in Atlanta. We were there quite early – not because we were afraid someone might snatch our oh-so-lovely nosebleed section seats – because I wanted to see him.

The legend.

My hero.

The one and only Dale Murphy.

As we gathered on the bottom row of field level seats to watch him warm up with his teammates, I took the opportunity to snap a few photos while I was close enough for the camera to actually capture his face (for soon the game would start and I’d pretty much need the Hubble telescope to even see the game, much less get any pictures of it). I couldn’t believe it – there he was, just hundreds of feet from me, The Murph. He was now in a Phillies uniform instead of the Atlanta blue I had grown up watching him in, but it didn’t even matter. He was right there, right in front of me!

And then it happened.

The players began to exit the field through the dugout, but Murph trotted in a different direction: straight toward the little group of kids I was standing in. This was it! I was going to get to meet Dale Murphy and get his autograph!

I waited patiently as kid after kid got their caps and cards and programs signed. Then it was my turn. I held out my ball and, just as Murph freed his hands to reach for it, his coach called for him from the dugout. He apologized and trotted off in the direction of responsibility.

I held it together on the outside and verbally reasoned that it was at least good enough to have been that close to him, but secretly I was crushed. I really wanted that ball signed. I know it’s just some guy’s name written in ink on a silly little photo ball I found at Winn Dixie, but somehow it would have meant so much to me to have it. To know that Dale Murphy had touched and signed that ball. But it just wasn’t to be.

We watched the game from the upper stratosphere that night, and had a blast. I don’t even remember who won, but I know that Murph was there and that was enough for me. A couple of years later, he retired. No more Mighty Murphy. The Braves retired his jersey. No more number 3. And, it seemed for me, no more chance of getting that silly little ball signed.

Fast forward a few years to yesterday. In a very strange marketing decision, it was Atlanta Braves night at Smokies stadium (our local Chicago Cubs affiliate…go figure…). And who would be appearing? You guessed it! The Murph! And did I go? You bet I did! And did I stand in line for two hours just for this?

Right again! One guy had been waiting at that stadium since 8:30 that morning to be first in line for an autograph, but I knew he had nothin’ on me. I had been standing in line for 17 years, 11 months and 7 ½ innings before I finally got that signature and my 10 seconds of face time with the Murph. And it was well worth the wait!

There’s something about standing in front of your childhood hero – even at 31 – that just makes the world seem right for a minute. All that was good and fun and innocent about life came pouring back to my heart, and just for a moment I was a carefree tomboy again, watching baseball with my grandfather and eating circus peanuts with my Murphy-loving neighbor. Just for that moment there weren’t a thousand different things piled on my plate. The family drama was gone, the to-do list was wiped clean, and all the questions hadn’t even been asked yet. Just for that one little moment, I was free to just breathe and be a kid again.

I tell you this for two reasons: one, because I’ve needed that little tiny breath of freedom for a while, and two, because I really just wanted to tell you a cool story about having to wait. I’m sorry I had to take an unannounced hiatus from blogging this summer, but I just needed a little step-back-from-life time. Sure, we traveled during some of that time and I wouldn’t have been able to blog anyway, but I really was just taking a little self-evaluation time. I needed to walk away from a few things for a bit, and blogging was one of the easier things to take a break from.

But I’m back now, and hopefully I’ll have something worthwhile to say this year! I really think that the Lord has been working on my heart lately, just tweaking me and changing me into more of the person He wants me to be. I’m really excited for what He has in store for me, even though I haven’t the first clue about what it may be. I’m just overwhelmingly grateful to be on the journey and to be a part of His story.

So I hope I haven’t lost you forever, and that you’ll come back and join me from week to week, to share little glimpses of this journey has me on. Perhaps you’ll find a moment of freedom every now and then as you read these posts – a moment to just step away and think about something different. Most of all, though, I pray that somehow you will find encouragement and meaning in my words, even though they seem much less important than some guy’s name, written in ink, on silly little ball from Winn-Dixie.

Sorry for the wait, but I’m ready to start writing again. I’m looking forward to “seeing” you here again soon!

Penny the Impervious Snail

2009-05-30T00:27:00.004-04:00

So we’ve been having trouble with algae growing in our fish tank lately. It’s never been a problem before (not with all the other fish I’ve managed to murder), but now it’s invading the home of Pyro, our Betta that loves to hang out in the volcano tank ornament when you turn the bubbles off. And I mean it’s gotten to be a big problem.

I had tried cleaning out the tank and even doing a complete water change, but nothing was working. Not knowing what else to do, I went down to the pet store (where they practically know me by name and the fish cower in complete fear at the sound of my voice), and asked if I should just get some drops or an algae eater or what. The fish guy agreed that I needed something, but was worried that an algae eater might not survive Pyro’s natural fighting instincts. So he offered me an interesting alternative: a bright yellow snail.

Little Man was with me that day, and as a consequence – I mean result – he got to name said snail. He named her Penny, apparently in homage to the movie Bolt (I tried to explain that “Bolt” would have been a lot funnier and a heck of a lot higher on the irony scale, but he wasn’t buying it. Penny it was).

So Penny was looking great in the bag on the way home. He/She/It (does anyone know if water snails are hermaphrodites?) was out in full display, checking out the strange confines of her temporary little shuttle. But once in the tank, things changed.

It took about 2 minutes in that tank for Penny to realize that she was not alone. It took about 5 minutes for Pyro to realize that he could play soccer with his new roommate. So in the shell we went, and we didn’t come out again. Like ever.

I figured my magical charm must work on invertebrates too, as Penny appeared quite dead on the bottom of the tank for about 3 days (why did I leave it there for 3 days you ask? Well, have you ever tried to determine whether or not a snail is actually alive? Much easier said than done…). I prepared the boys, and got out a Ziploc bag to take her sad little carcass back to the pet store (they actually give you your money back if they die within 14 days…I think they’re considering revising that policy because of me). But when I went to pick her up, she had ever-so-slightly moved in her shell. Could she be alive?

The answer (we determined many long, painstaking minutes later), was a definite yes. She was alive. For now, anyway. But the cracks in her shell told me it wouldn’t be long before Pele scored one too many goals and she would be gone for sure.

So we went back to enjoying our soccer-playing Betta, and anxiously awaiting the debut of Penny’s real, whole body and her well purchased algae eating skills. But it wasn’t to be. She found some refuge under a fake plant and took root for a while. I wound up having to feed her by dropping food right by her shell so she didn’t have to move to get it (remember, I didn’t want to have to feed her – I wanted her to have to find the algae in the tank!).

There she sat, getting stiller and stiller, while all around her the water got greener and greener. Back to the pet store we go.

This time, I skipped the fish guy. I went straight for the drops. Yes, I read the back of all the bottles, and yes I saw that 5 out of the 6 said “Do not use in tanks with freshwater invertebrates such as snails”. But I found that the 6th one actually said “freshwater crustaceans”, and only mentioned crabs and lobsters. A matter of semantics, perhaps, but well worth the risk at this point.

I got home and ceremoniously said good-bye to Penny, just in case the drops were indeed poisonous to her (I knew they would be, but this was now all about saving Pyro’s life). Then I proceeded to accidentally overdose the tank. Now they both were in danger.

A few minutes later I came back to find Penny rolled over on the back of her shell with her body slightly bulging out of her little trap door. Well, this was it. I finally knew how to determine if a snail was dead. If ever a snail was dead, this one was. Sorry Penny.

I couldn’t take her out right then, though, because we were leaving to go somewhere. So in the tank her bloated little corpse lay.

And then we came home.

You know in all those super hero comic books how the super heroes start out as these average, boring guys and then they get doused with radio-active acid or something and suddenly become indestructible and incredibly buff? Well, apparently algae drops really are like toxic waste to snails. Because Buddy let me tell you, Penny was all over that tank when we got home, and she hasn’t stopped since!

For once in her tiny little existence in our home she’s actually hanging out on the tank wall.

For once she’s literally starting to come out of her shell.

For once she’s standing up to her Pele-wanna-be roommate and she isn’t backing down.

She is Penny, the Impervious Snail. And she is real, living proof that the saying “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger” must be true. She’s beat the bully, she’s survived the cracks, and now she’s amped up on algae steroids and is ready to conquer the aquarium.

Too bad that aquarium is still under my care… Hmmm…

Yep, she’s definitely going to need another dose of that algae stuff if she’s gonna have a prayer of making it. Don’t worry, I’m on it.

Giants

2009-05-25T09:44:00.002-04:00

Giants y’all. I’m talking big ones. There’s three of them lurking around my life right now. Make no mistake – one’s been here for a while. In fact, I’m kind of getting used to him. I don’t like that he’s here, but he’s not really my giant to get rid of. In that sense I guess it’s kind of an arranged thing, and we’ve learned to tolerate each other for now. I’ve thought about naming him, but my mom always said that when you name stray animals you wind up wanting to keep them. Trust me, I don’t want to keep this one. So No Name it is.

The second giant to arrive got here about a week or so ago. He’s all mine this time, but he’s not the kind of giant that poses an obstacle. No, this guy is just here to torment me, and to make me think that the task that lies ahead is more daunting and impossible than it really is with Christ on my side. This giant is just a bully, and I’m trying my best to find the nerve to simply tell him to get out of my way. I’m allowed to do that, you know – he is my bully giant. He’s just really tall…and really mean…so it might take a while.

The third giant, well, he’s my least favorite kind. He’s the kind that stands right in the middle of the pathway to your dreams and says, “Thou shall not pass” in his booming giant voice. This giant just got here Saturday.

I tell you, there is nothing quite as disappointing as thinking you are virtually moments away from achieving a dream, only to find that the road is closed by an unmovable force with big, ugly feet. It makes you want to quit. It makes you want to turn around and give up, using what little energy you have left to cry and mope and feel sorry for yourself. I mean, this one is there because someone else hired him to be there. He’s not moving, no matter how much I beg. He’s my problem, but he’s definitely their giant, and he’s not taking orders from anyone else. Continuing on seems impossible, or at least highly improbable at best.

But continuing on is exactly what my husband says I should do, so I guess I’m gonna do it.

At first when he said it I was a little angry. I spent a lot of effort and time trying to get him to understand just how tall this giant is, but he wasn’t hearing it. And then, in a moment of sarcasm (I have a lot of those, by the way), I said something that actually gave me hope.

Maybe – just maybe – that giant isn’t really standing in my way. Maybe he’s there to put me on his shoulders so I can reach higher than I ever thought possible.

You see, he may not be my giant to boss around, and he may be really, really tall and impervious to persuasion, but he is nowhere close to being bigger than God. And if God wants me to achieve this dream of mine, He’ll make it happen – even if He has to use a giant to get it done.

So, I’m choosing to do everything I still can on this side of the giant to reach my goal. Then, when I can go no further on my own, I’ll butter him up and ask him for a huge favor. Who knows? He might even grant me one. But even if he doesn’t, I’ll know that it wasn’t him who ultimately held me back (for what’s a giant compared to God?). If that’s the case, I’ll know that my Father has a perfect plan for my future – one full of hope and life – that involves another dream I should be pursuing. Maybe, in that sense, He will have used this giant as a bit of a directional sign to reroute my path.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what happens in this situation. What matters is that my path ultimately brings glory to the name of God, no matter where it leads. For His renown is the whole point of this life of mine, and He owns the entire journey to that end – giants and all.

On that note, if you’ll excuse me I think I’ll go set up camp at the feet of that giant and get to work finishing what I started. Oh, and then I guess I’ll take a break and go arm wrestle that bully for a while…

Embracing Life

2009-05-14T10:03:00.001-04:00

I’ve been embraced. Or at least that’s what my orthodontist calls it. Sounds all warm and fuzzy, doesn’t it? Well, I can tell you all this metal in my mouth is neither warm nor fuzzy, but it’s not horrible either.

It all started a year ago with Little Man’s head and mine having a bit of a disagreement over who should control a particular segment of airspace (he won, by the way – you can read about it here). And now, almost one year to the day later, I’ve been transformed overnight from a young-looking 31 year old, to the mom who gets strange looks at the mall because people are trying to do the math in their head (“Well, she looks 14, but that kid has to be at least 6… Oh dear, Martha! Is that even possible?”). Joy of all joys.

The hope is that the braces will realign my teeth so that they will fit together again (they haven’t fit together right since the “incident”), and then my jaw can finally heal. The only kicker is that they had to put in these things on the back of my front two top teeth called “bite turbos” that, while sounding really cool, are incredibly annoying. They stop me from biting down and snapping off my bottom brackets, but it also means that my back teeth don’t touch. At all. Which means I can’t chew. At all. It’s only been a couple of days, but seriously, how many smoothies, milk shakes and Slim Fasts can a girl handle? Good diet plan, though – I’ve already lost a pound and a half.

The turbos also serve another purpose – I think they are intentionally shaped the way they are because some dental engineer needed revenge on all the kids who made fun of his smooshy, spit-filled lisp growing up. I can’t even come close to saying the letter s right. And yes, that was me standing in front of the mirror Tuesday afternoon saying “slippery snakes” over and over again. It didn’t change anything, in case you were wondering…

But this is how I know God has an incredible sense of humor. Not only do I get to watch all those funny expressions on the faces of confused moms in public, but I just got invited to prayerfully consider accepting my biggest speaking assignment ever. Coincidence? I think not. It’s been months since I’ve spoken to adults, and now I get invited to co-lead a women’s conference this fall. You know, now that I can’t say anything with an s in it? Very funny, Lord. Hilarious even. Just remember, Your name has two s’s in it, so…

So anyway, just wanted to give you a little update on this crazy little world that is mine. It’s never boring, that’s for sure! I’m off now to find something I can eat without chewing….something other than a Slim Fast. Wish me luck!

Toothless Wonder

2009-04-28T20:03:00.005-04:00

I have a lot on my mind today, but at the same time I'm having one of those days where it's difficult for me to express myself very well. So, being that I'm at a unique loss for words, I thought I'd just share a snapshot from the lighter side of life around here. Check it out - my little boy is growing up! Two teeth gone this month and only 14 days of Kindergarden left! Where does the time go?

Between his seriously cute gaping hole and my soon-to-be-in-place braces, I guess we won't be eating a ton of corn on the cob this summer, will we?

I hoping to have something better for you all soon, but until then I'll leave you with this thought from Adrian Rodgers that I heard on the radio this afternoon:

When we tell a story in preschool about a frog becoming a prince, it's called a fairy tale. When we tell the same story in school, it's called science.

How's that for a discussion starter?

A Fishy Confession

2009-04-13T16:41:00.003-04:00

Ok, I have a serious confession to make, people. It’s a toughy to admit, but here goes:

Hi, my name is Samantha and I’m a fish killer.

There, I said it. On the internet. It’s out there for the whole world to know. I kill fish. More specifically, I kill dearly beloved family pet fish. The kind you can’t even eat, so I can’t even justify it. It’s true. I’m horrible.

It started with spring break vacation. I let the tank get a little out of hand – the water was low, something green was growing on the walls, and a brown plague had taken over the tube where the air stone resides. It was nasty to say the least – like a scene out of a little fishy horror movie.

Still, I could have saved it. I could have intervened, and yet did I? Of course not.

The water level kept getting lower, and the green stuff kept getting brighter. And then I noticed that the algae-eater (affectionately known as “Bubbles”) was laying on his side. On his side, people. You know there is a lot of algae in your tank when the fish who was put on this earth by God Himself to love algae has had enough. It was time for action.

I thought perhaps if I did a complete water change and treated the water with a little salt spa, that maybe he could still pull through. Maybe. So after dinner the other night I went to work. I placed each fish in his own little cup and went to work changing and scrubbing and treating and filling. In minutes the tank was sparkling and ready to be re-inhabited.

Bubbles was the first to move back in. I carefully poured him into the net and set him free in his newly cleaned room. He sank to the bottom, but stayed upright, so I was hopeful.

Next was Two Tales’ turn. I repeated the process of slowly pouring his water through the net to strain him out, but it didn’t go quite as well as it had with his roommate. In fact, when I got to the bottom of his cup, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. I checked the net. I checked the other cup I had used to catch the water. Nothing.

I checked the cat’s mouth. Still nothing.

Being the jump-to-conclusions-accuser that I am, I checked the cat’s bed. You guessed it – nothing. Where could this little guy have gone? Had he simply been rescued from this life Elijah-style? Aliens? What in the world?

That’s when something shiny caught my eye. On the carpet. I seriously don’t know how he got there, but somehow my straining technique had resulted in Two Tales being flung down to a golden Berber-y nightmare. I quickly scooped him up and – cover your eyes fish lovers – picked the cat hair off his tail, before swiftly placing him back in the tank.

The tank where he, too, sank to the bottom, right next to the motionless algae-eater. And, well, he looked a little like he shoulda had a V-8.

So, there you have it. Bubbles made it through the night, but expired some time the next day. Two Tales is still on life support, but the prognosis isn’t good. Apparently Berber is life-threatening to aquatic animals. Who knew?

But, as many of you know, this isn’t the first fish fatality to occur by my hand. No, there was Thiggy. And Diggy (or was it Ziggy? Enough of the children naming pets…). Oh, and Hayes. Who could forget Hayes? I’m sure it will be quite some time before my children forget the sight of his little fishy head falling off…

Ok. So I have another serious confession to make.

My name is Samantha, and I’m a serial fish killer.

The truth is a real bummer, you know that? And yet, I’m sure I’ll be off to the pet store next week to find yet another vict – uh, I mean pet.

Oh, someone’s gotta stop me…

Reminders

2009-04-06T20:37:00.004-04:00

Wow. Life is complicated, isn't it? It just seems like things are always changing - that nothing ever stays the same, and that nothing good can just be good without something trying to mess it up. It's confusing, often heartbreaking, and almost always stressful. And at times, it seems like you're so aware of the "complicated" side of things, that you'll never be able to come up for air again and see anything brighter.

That's kind of where I've been lately - bent under the weight of what the world calls "life". But I've gotten several reminders today that what I see going on around me isn't anything close to the life that Jesus had in mind for us when He died.

I've been reminded today that I don't have to fall into the patterns that this world has tried to determine for me. He has set me aside for a greater purpose, and no one can take that away from me. No one can make me go back to the path I was headed down before, because I've been freed from that Egypt, and I ain't goin' back, no-way, no-how.

I've also been reminded today that God chose me to be His own - and He chooses me again and again every day. He doesn't tire of me (although I don't know how). He loves me, and wants me, and even desires me. And because of that, He will never, ever, forget me. Even if the whole world allowed me to be swallowed up and lost, He would still have His hand on my heart and my life in His grasp.

And I've been reminded that when nothing else is constant, Jesus is the Rock to which I can always turn. He is always good. He is always present. He is always the same.

I've needed these reminders today. The past few weeks have been rough ones for me (in many different ways - some more painful than others). At times it has felt like my life has been wrapped up in little deaths - some for the good, some, well, not so much - and it has been consuming, to say the least. So consuming that it's been hard to get that glimpse of Him. Hard to lift my head.

But then I was also reminded today that with God, death does not end in death.

For after The Death, there was resurrection.

And after these deaths too, there will be new life.

I love that our God is the God of hope. I love that in the midst of the darkest, loneliest storms, His light is right there with us because the darkness cannot put it out.

I love that He loves us the way He does.

I'm not selfish enough or so blind that I can't see so many others around me wrapped up in their own season of changes and deaths. I may be the only one fighting my own particular battle, but the battlefield is strewn with casualties right now. It's surreal, really, how much pain and hurt there is to go around today.

If you find yourself with me in those numbers, be encouraged. Find strength as we head into Easter, that while Friday is dark, Sunday is coming. Our Jesus is the resurrected lamb. He has brought life from death, and has taken us out of the grip of darkness.

He is the Way

the Truth,

the Life.

And that will never change.

Some Favorite Spring Break Moments

2009-04-03T08:42:00.007-04:00

As promised, here are a few of our favorite shots from spring break.

First, there was the indoor water park - we went every day except one!

Little man loved the lazy river the best

We did some playing on the playground (and some just being cute)

We hiked to Grotto Falls and got really muddy in the process!

We mined for gems - and even found a few worth keeping! I think this guy is like the original mountain man miner or something. Do they come any more authentic than that?

We walked around Gatlinburg and played in the fountain...

...and met a couple of the 600 Santa Clauses in town for the annual Santa convention

And to top it all off, we went to the aquarium and saw some really cool sharks!

We don't get to do family vacations like this very often, so this was a really special time for all of us. I can't tell you how many times in the past couple of weeks I wish we could go back to vacation and forget about life again for a while, but I guess you can' "vacate" your responsibilities forever.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the pictures! And for those of you who are interested in the saga of Squirt, you will be happy to know that squirt has new friends. As far as I can tell, it's a mom, maybe a dad and two babies. And their name? California. Yeah, we live in Tennessee.... Whatever, right?

Samantha

Oh Yeah Buddy - They're Real

2009-03-24T09:51:00.004-04:00

Hey there you insanely faithful readers (I say that because if you’re still hanging in there with me you have to be faithful at this point – I’ve been horrible with keeping up with this blog, but I am trying). Sorry I didn’t get to post anything last week – we went on vacation, and I brought my laptop with me thinking that I’d sneak off and post at some point, only to find that they didn’t have free internet where we were staying! Now, not that writing isn’t worth paying the $9.95 a day fee at least once to post, but the goal here is to make money writing at some point, not to have to pay to do it. So anyway, I’m here now for a quick post and I’ll put up some pictures later of our Spring Break fun for you to enjoy!

In the meantime, I have a bit of a – well, “situation” (for lack of a better term) – that I could use some help with. Little Man’s little imagination has been blooming and budding as of late, and it’s led to some really interesting conversations, one of which I have no idea how to handle.

He’s in this mode of realizing that there could be more to this life than what he just sees with his eyes. He’s realizing that he has feelings, and a heart (and not just the one that he can hear “beeping” after he runs fast), and thoughts and dreams, and the whole thing is just fascinating to him. I admit that some of his concepts are a little fuzzy, like when he told me the other day that I can’t hurt his feelings because “they work at Wal-Mart” (I don’t really even know what that means, but I don’t think it was supposed to be as funny as his daddy and I found it to be…). But some of the things he’s exploring are starting to hedge on some pretty deep theological truths.

I guess to begin, I should say that Little Man has some new friends. “Benbizable” friends, that is. Four of them. Two skeletons, and two black ghosts (yeah, I know, a little morbid, but apparently that’s how his brain works). All four of them are named Squirt. No, not like, Squirt, Squirt, Squirt and Squirt – the unit of friends as a whole is just Squirt, and is often referred to as “he”, but never “they” (I guess almost like a trinity thing here, I don’t know).

So Little Man likes to play with Squirt and talk about Squirt and tell other people about Squirt (“I have Squirt and it’s skeleton, skeleton, black ghost, black ghost…). And when he plays with Squirt his name changes too – suddenly he is no longer Little Man, but Cowboy Squirt Cake.

Yeah, I know. Disturbing. But it gets better.

He also has two other “benbizable” friends, and this is where it gets tricky. These other two are the same benbizable friends that Mommy talks to all the time but he can’t ever see… Can you see where this is going?

So, yeah, his other two benbizable friends are named God and Jesus. Um, yeah, I told you it was tricky. I tried to explain that, unlike Squirt, God and Jesus really are real, but he most certainly thinks I’ve lost my mind. We’ve gone through the questions so many times: “So where is God? Can I touch Him? Can I step on Him? Why can’t I see Him? Why can’t I hear Him? Why can He see me and hear me if He’s not here? How big is He? Can He fit in my bed? Well, can He fit in my bed?” And lately it usually ends this way: “Mommy, just take God with you when you leave – take Him out of my room.”

The other night apparently God didn’t follow me out, so Little Man got out of bed about 30 minutes after bed time and marched into the living room dragging God by the hand. “Now sit here, God – on the couch.” Then he went back to bed and fell asleep.

Oh dear.

So what do you do? On the one hand it’s hard not to laugh when he tells Jesus that He’d better finish all His carrots and clean His plate before He leaves the dinner table, but on the other hand you don’t want to encourage him to think that his heavenly Father and Holy Savior are figments of make-believe (or that at least one of them is something to be freaked out by at night).

The truth of it is, my sweet little confused three year old is asking the same essential question as people 10 to 20 times his age. How do we know that God is real when we can’t see Him or touch Him? Faith, Little Man. Faith is what I tell him. He doesn’t know what that means, really, but to tell you the truth he’s freer to accept it than a lot of those older people are. His mind hasn’t been confused and confined yet by the things that he thinks he can see in this world, and that gives him a great advantage.

I’m scared to death over how to field these deep questions of his, but so excited to see them forming so early in his tiny little brain. If you have any suggestions about how to tactfully distinguish between Squirt and God in a way he might grasp, I’m totally open to comments!

What a weird, wild journey this whole parenting thing is. I’m so thankful, though, that the Lord has a sense of humor and keeps us laughing through these wonderfully strange little creations of His.

Oh, goodness – I just thought of something. “The Lord”? Does Mommy have a third “benbizable” friend that we just haven’t talked much about yet? Hmmm… looks like we might have another one of those deep conversations tonight…

Please Pray for Baby Jonah!

2009-03-10T06:13:00.004-04:00

Hey friends! I'm thick in the process of reformatting one of my books for self-publishing on the web, and I have to be honest - my hands are a-killin' me. Carpal Tunnel is such a cruel writing companion...

So being that I really wanted to post something for you today but should be taking a break, I thought I'd post a link to a family who has really been on my mind over the past week or so.

The Williams family from Winston-Salem, NC are friends of friends for us. To put it mildly, they've had a rough go at life over the past year. There first son, Gabe, was still born in April of last year. Then on February 27th, Patrice gave birth to Jonah, a beautiful little guy who has a horrible condition called Epidermolysis Bullosa - a rare skin disorder that causes his skin to blister and peel off at the slightest touch. They can't even really pick him up and hold him, though they finally got to cuddle him through a pile of blankets this past weekend! Can you imagine not being able to touch and hold your newborn baby boy?

I am happy to report that though Jonah is still in a lot of pain, he is doing really well today! He is still in the hospital, and every day is a new challenge as they learn how to feed and care for him, but their thankfulness for each little victory is a testimony to God's greatness.

Patrice is a great blogger, updating with posts every day (sometimes even more than one day), so it's easy to keep track of his progress and know what to pray for on a daily basis!

Please join me and thousands of others in praying for baby Jonah and his parents Patrice and Matt. Their story is one that will both break your heart and inspire your faith. Just click on the link below to visit their site.

Thanks friends, and I'll see you again soon (when I can type more!)

Brace Yourselves

2009-03-03T08:49:00.002-05:00

Mmmm… I’m back. That was nice… It’s been a while since we were able to really get away – just the two of us – and since the opportunity presented itself, we went ahead and took advantage of it! I know it was only three-and-a-half days, but it was like a mini second honeymoon to us! Three whole nights of no kids and no alarm clocks! Yay!!!! It was really a special treat, and I’m thankful that my in-laws were able to come and spoil – uh, I mean babysit for us. They’re the best!

So I guess I should offer some kind of explanation for my absence lately (even if it’s a lame one). We’ve been through a nice little round of illnesses – colds, a stomach virus and even walking pneumonia – but that’s not really all that’s kept me away. No, it seems that I was getting too comfortable with this whole new phase of life with kindergarten and all, which naturally meant it was time for another curve ball, right?

No, I’m not pregnant.

( I always have to throw that out there pretty quickly). That being said, this curve ball was one I certainly didn’t see coming.

Remember last May when Little Man nearly broke my jaw by jumping off a stage and bumping heads with me? Well I remember it. I remember it every day because my jaw has never fully healed. I remember it every time I try to eat a sandwich or chew steak or turn my head while I’m yawning. I remember it a lot.

If only we had known that going to a church musical that night was going to cause so much discomfort and pain. If only we had known that showing up to hear those little kids sing was going to result in fairly drastic change in my diet for the foreseeable future. If only we had known that our little outing to the church was going to cost us nearly $6,000 – wait – if only we had known that I think we would have stayed home and sang to ourselves!

Yes, an emergency room visit, two dentists, a chiropractor and an oral surgeon later, it’s come down to this: I have to get braces. Me – little ‘ole going-to-turn-31-in-a-couple-of-weeks me – is going to have to get braces. Ugly Betty, move over!

Well, to be fair, I’m going to the actual orthodontist later this morning, and he will tell me if he’s willing to do it. You see, braces are the only way to correct the damage (something about my teeth not fitting together anymore so my jaw can’t rest and heal), but there is a chance it won’t work at all, and a minor chance that it might make it worse. Permanently. (I just discovered that I have no idea how to spell that last word… I’m going to be how old?)

So the braces are our only shot, but he might not be willing to take them on since it’s such a weird case. I guess we’ll see in a couple of hours, huh? Although I walked out of the dentist office in tears after he explained the situation to me, I’m actually praying now that we can go through with it. Imagine eating a banana without cutting it up first! And apples and steak and Rice Crispy treats – oh my stars Rice Crispy Treats!

But all of that to say that we can’t afford braces, so I’ve had to get a job. The Lord has truly blessed me in this area, really. The day I found out about the braces thing I mentioned it to a girl in our youth group. It just so happens that her mom needs some help with her insurance business and is willing to take me on part-time and let me work from home. I couldn’t ask for a better situation – especially in this economy!

So I’ve already started working, and of course that means that the old schedule has to change yet again. I think I can still make it on Tuesdays to write a quick post (and I might be able to sneak in one or two extras now and then!), but for now all the extra writing I wanted to do is going to have to be on hold. That makes me sad, but hopefully it won’t stay that way. We’ll see – I have a Bible study idea in my head that won’t go away, so He’ll help me carve out time if He wants it written.

Anyway, that’s my long saga / excuse. Some people would say it’s not a very good one (“what’s the big deal? It’s only braces”, I’ve heard). But at 31 braces are kind of life-changing. Especially when it means you have to get a job to pay them and you really need to be putting that “extra” money towards a safer car that your entire family can ride in (instead of only three of you). There’s other things that it changes, but I won’t go into details here. Doesn’t matter anyway, right? It is what it is. And right now, I really am praying that I have to make those changes anyway, because I want my jaw to heal so I can move on with life.

And besides, what’s the worst that can happen? I’d finally have straight teeth? You mean I could eat bananas and smile?

I could live with that!

Still Here!

2009-02-27T10:05:00.002-05:00

Ok, I know all of you think I must have fallen off the face of the Earth, but I assure you - I'm still here! We've had a lot going on the past couple of weeks with ilnesses, trips out of town and me starting a part-time job (among other things), so writing has had to take a trip to the back burner for a minute.

I really wanted to sit down and write you a great post this morning, but I have to be honest about something: I'm in the mountains with my husband celebrating our ninth anniversary, and I'm a bit...well...distracted. I can't think of anything to write about but him, and yet I can't find a way to put it all into words without spending our entire weekend typing (it would take that long!).

So, I'm just popping in to say that I'm still alive and I haven't forgotten about blogging. But, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to go spend some more time with my husband. I will be back - but not until the second honeymoon is over... ;-)

See you then!

Little Man, Big Personality

2009-02-09T12:05:00.004-05:00

I just wanted to post this morning to let you know how much (for the moment, anyway), I’m enjoying my three year old. I know he doesn’t get a lot of great press on here sometimes, but he really is a fun kid to be around! There is truly never a dull moment with him.

Just to give a few examples, yesterday at church he told all the teachers in his preschool class that I had a baby in my belly. It took me nearly all day to dispel that rumor. But I do have to give him credit – he knows what (he thinks) he wants, and he knows (how he thinks) to get it! I keep trying to tell him that he probably wouldn’t enjoy the baby so much when it came out of my belly, but he doesn’t get it yet. I also told him that if he really wants that to happen, he has to talk to Jesus and Daddy, and not necessarily in that order.

Then this morning I looked up to see him making a funny face and pushing his arms through the air in rhythm. When I asked him what he was doing he look at me like I was the obviously weird one, and said, “I’m swimming! And now I’m going to swim downstairs! Bye Mom!” Then he really did it – he “swam” all the way downstairs. And I have no doubt that he kept “swimming” long after I couldn’t see him!

Just a few minutes ago he was sitting next to me watching me type and had his hands between his knees. I guess he must have banged his knees together and hurt his finger a little, because he suddenly said, “Ow! Mom – my leg elbows just hurt my finger!” Leg elbows? Well, that’s classic Little Man for you!

Of course in the midst of all this fun there still is that other side of Little Man: washing his hands in the toilet this morning; sneaking an apple juice slush from Sonic into his bed last night so that he woke up in a dream-shattering icy pool somewhere around midnight; and most recently climbing on a bathroom stool on top of a chair in the kitchen to try and reach the candy stash. Oh yeah – trouble time.

So think of all the things you just read, and marinate in the fact that all of this happened within the last 24 hours, most of it in the last 4. Yeah, our days are colorful to say the least!

I’m thanking the Lord this morning for my very active, very not-boring three year old! He keeps me on my toes!

Forecast: More Rain? Not So Much...

2009-02-02T17:48:00.004-05:00

Hello bloggy friends! It’s Monday evening, and I’m looking out my window at a blanket of very white, very fluffy “rain” that fell all afternoon. About an inch or so of it, in fact. It’s beautiful!

Several days ago the weather man warned us that there might be a “big snow” coming our way if two different fronts collided just right. I watched and waited with great anticipation, calculating how it would change my week to have a few snow days thrown in. Then, the closer it got to storm time, the more we heard about things moving off to the east and there not being much in it for us but a few rain showers and a possible flurry or two.

I watched the weather again this morning to hear that our forecast was merely wet and dreary for the next couple of days, and that sadly there wouldn’t be a winter wonderland in store for us at all. Mentally I reset my week back to “normal” mode and packed up Little Man for a trip to the chiropractor and a quick jaunt to the play place at the mall. What else are you going to do on a rainy day, right?

But less than an hour after hearing that disappointing prediction from not one, but two weather sources, the rain drops splattering against my windshield slowly began to turn white and stick in between swipes of the wiper blades. Within minutes flakes as big as grapes were slapping against our windows, and the entire countenance of the day began to change.

The weatherman may have been wrong today about the rain, but I’m glad. We’ve had our fair share of showers lately, and frankly I’m a little over it (I’d never make it in Oregon – sorry, Edward Cullen…). Snow I can handle. There is nothing quite as peaceful to me as a good snow. In fact, one of my favorite sounds in the world is the soft, clean sound of a snowfall (another is the sound of hundreds of people turning pages in their Bibles all at once – completely unrelated to what I’m talking about, but it truly delights my soul!). But rain? I have a hard time with rain. It’s hard for me to get up and get moving on rainy days. I get sad and tired, and I don’t feel like doing much of anything.

The past few weeks it seems like my mind has been stuck in a bit of a rainy day feeling even when the sun has dared to come out of hiding. So when I heard that prediction of even more rain, it kind of made me feel emotionally constrained to all these feelings I’ve been having lately. You know, like the rain might never end and I might never feel like getting up and doing anything. It just seemed like the emotional forecast was going to be just as set as the one for our weather – cold rain and lots of clouds.

But then it started snowing instead, and I learned that not even those who are trained to predict the future can truly ever know what God has in store for us. Sure, it may look by all accounts like it’s going to rain buckets without a flake or sunray in sight. It may even be a meteorological “certainty” according to all the technology and instruments we have in play. But God is God. And nothing is impossible for Him. Nothing! And – I dare say – no one is as delightfully unpredictable as He is!

So, as I’ve sat here writing this (and babbling on about nothing that even remotely makes sense, I’m sure), I’ve taken a pause or two to look out at the Lord’s quiet reminder to me that He alone is God. I’ve even caught the sun shining for a moment, believe it or not. And I’ve stored up in my heart the knowledge that none of us can predict what God has in store for us from one moment to the next. Sure, it may still feel like it’s raining in my heart, but it won’t be like that forever. At some point, when I least expect it, God will send change my way in the unstoppable form of a peaceful snow, or a sun-filled breeze, or even a tornado that brings me perspective. It won’t rain forever. And it certainly won’t rain just because I expect it to.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for being the intimate lover of my soul and the One True God.

Jesus Doesn't Have A Long Distance Carrier

2009-01-27T09:29:00.002-05:00

Sometimes when I go to the preschool to pick up Little Man, I’ll find that his teacher has posted a little note about something cute that happened or was said in the classroom that day or the day before. I love reading about the funny things three year olds come up with – they can be hilarious little people!

When I dropped Little Man off this morning, the note posted on the wall involved Little Man himself, as well as another boy I’ll call Buddy. It apparently happened during play time, and it went something like this:

Little Man (handing a pretend phone to his teacher, Ms. A): “Here Ms. A, it’s your mom.”

Ms. A (who has a great sense of humor): “Well, it must be long distance, because she’s in Heaven!”

Buddy: “Well, that’s not too long for Jesus!”

Amen, little buddy, amen.

I just wanted to share that little story with you today, and use it as a little reminder that nothing – nothing – “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation” could ever, ever separate us from the love of Jesus (Romans 8:38-39).

May the words said during the play of a couple of funny three year olds remind you of the words of our Father and encourage your heart today. Nothing’s too long for Jesus! Wherever you are, whatever your circumstances today, He’s right there with you, and he’s not going anywhere – you can count on that.

Well, That's A New One...

2009-01-20T21:42:00.004-05:00

I wanted to have a great well thought-out post for you today, but my usual writing time was replaced by some fun, unexpected frolicking in the snow with my little men! Hopefully I'll get a chance soon to post some pictures of our winter wonderland fun, but until then, I didn't want to leave you hanging with nothing to read (as if reading my blog actually completes something in your life), so I wanted to throw out this thought for you:

I was out microwave looking the other day. We need a new one, but we can't really afford one right now. Can't hurt to look though, right? Well, I had no idea that people's microwaving needs had changed so much lately, but did you know that you can actually purchase a microwave with a one-touch preset button for ice cream?

Yes, I said ice cream. It also has buttons for fresh vegetables, pop corn and beverages, just in case you're one of those boring normal people who uses their microwave for mundane heating tasks.

Hmmm... what's the culinary world coming to? I mean, ice cream?

Changing My Mind Through Tess

2009-01-13T20:11:00.004-05:00

Tess has got to be one of the most amazing women I have ever met, and I’d like to think that my life is different because our paths crossed. Here is a little bit of her story. [***note: her name has been changed for the sake of this post]

I believe Tess moved to Atlanta because her mother was ill. After her mother died, her life kind of fell apart. She admits that she made a series of bad decisions that have resulted in a fair share of bad consequences, all of which led her to where she is now.

Her medical records are a mess. She has hepatitis C, congestive heart failure, and peripheral neuropathy (a very painful condition resulting from nerve damage). She has had at least one heart attack and one stroke, is missing a few fingers (perhaps from frostbite?), has only one visible tooth, and has been told at least three times that she wouldn’t make it out of the hospital alive. And yet, she lives.

Each night she uses her broken body to climb up a palette, through a hole, down a ladder and over a fence to sleep here, a place she calls an “abandonminium”:
She shares her place with about 100 other people, and a few hundred more rats. The people, she says, use the bathroom on the floor, and refuse to help one another. The rats, she says, are as big as German Shepherds (we laughed, but she said she wasn’t joking), and will steal food right out of your hands while you’re eating. The people left her for dead twice, and she’s deathly afraid of the rats. And yet, she presses on.

Her prescriptions alone cost over $300 a month, so any money she possibly makes has to go towards meeting that need. Her family is gone, and the world treats her as dispensable. She will spend her day today finding food and what money she can, and tonight she will fight off the cold and the rats to sleep in utter filth.

And yet, she praises God.

The day we met Tess was the day that most of us truly went to church for the first time. Man, can that woman preach! She spoke truth to us about her life and about the Lord like I’ve never heard truth spoken before. Nothing was off limits. All that the Lord had given her to say, she said right then and there.

Choices. Life is all about choices, she told us. Choices, and giving praise to God. She is so thankful for God’s blessings in her life, and freely says that she doesn’t have any business asking Him why things are the way they are for her. With all she goes through every day, she never complains. She never sees God as anything other than the loving, constant companion He is. I think I can say that I’ve never met anyone who seems closer to God than Tess. She is the embodiment of that strength Paul was talking about in Philippians 4:13.
When she finished speaking, every kid in our group lined up to hug her and thank her (that's her with the backpack in the picture). She accepted them with warm arms and a personal word for each and every one. I’ve never seen ministry like that in all the years I’ve worked with youth. It truly was a moment from God.

Tess thanks God that she wakes up every day to live out her task on this Earth teaching the Word of God and preaching His goodness. There is no doubt in her mind that right in that abandonminium is where God wants her to live and minister.

Last Sunday our congregation sang “I’ll Fly Away”, and I thought of Tess. Though she is content to stay here as long as the Lord would ask her to stay, I will rejoice when she finally gets to go home and see Him face to face. No more sickness, no more holes and ladders and fences, no more rats. Just Jesus and an eternal home of her very own. Praise God for what He has in store for all of us!

I returned home to my three bedroom, two bath house with the sights and sounds of Atlanta still bouncing around in my head (and the smells still engrained in my clothes!). All of the stories touched me. All of the people were fascinating, but none compared to Tess. God was amazingly present in her testimony, and to be with her was to be in His presence.

Before Atlanta, I was quick to complain about the squeaky floorboards in my hall or the issues we’re having in our front bathroom. It was nothing for me to carry on about the back deck that needs to be repaired or my fears about the roof that seems to be warping. I whined about eating leftovers and about not having the “right” pair of shoes for that new outfit.

But I came home changed – with a new eye and a new appreciation for how I’ve been blessed. Maybe I don’t have my dream house, and maybe we won’t ever drive the best cars in the parking lot at church. But we are blessed far beyond our needs, and if it was all gone tomorrow Christ would give us the strength to praise Him all the more.

Just like Tess.

See you with something new in a couple of days.

Changing My Mind in Atlanta

2009-01-09T22:41:00.004-05:00

I love how some days you can tell where your spouse ate lunch or hung out with kids before coming home (ok, I admit that last one is a little unique to the wives of youth ministers, but I think you know what I mean). The second they walk near it’s obvious –“Mmmm…Subway…”, or “Wow, you went to Becky’s Grille – I can smell the smoke in your hair…”

It doesn’t happen with every place, but there are those certain environments that leave you marinating in their odor for hours. Some people like it, and some people don’t. But apparently enough people like it at Burger King that the restaurant giant is working on the patent for a new cologne. Soon you can pay to smell like you’ve had it your way – flame-broiled and smothered in condiments – without actually having to ingest the calories. Crazy.

Well, I’m proud to say that although I won’t be participating in the BK Au De Toilet anytime soon, my good winter jacket is still sitting in the garage because it reeks of my encounter with Atlanta. It obviously doesn’t smell all that great, but I’m thankful for it all the same, because it is truly the smell of a life-changing experience.

If you’ve ever spent any time working with the homeless population in any city, you know that it is an experience that will assault your senses. The smells are usually the most overwhelming to me. I don’t know what it is or exactly how to describe it, but it’s a heavy, strangely sweet smell that lingers in the air like a slow-moving zeppelin long after they're gone. I admit that at first it’s rather bothersome to me, but after a while you don’t even notice it that much. After a few days you don’t even realize that you’ve taken it on yourself.

The sights are definitely next in line. When you pass by the homeless on the street, you see things that impress you. Layers of clothes, maybe a backpack or a ragged sleeping bag – things that catch your attention and maybe even make you stop and think for a while. When you work with the homeless like we did, what you see leaves an impression for a lifetime.

We stayed at the SafeHouse Outreach, housed in the heart of downtown Atlanta. When we first got there those of us who were new thought our sleeping conditions were a little rough. I literally slept under a bunk bed (you think I'm kidding, but I had the bruises on my head to prove it!).

Then we took a tour of the city and saw where people who don’t even have bunk beds to sleep under lay their heads at night. Doorways and overpasses. Park benches and patches of grass. One guy we came to know sleeps under a trailer in a parking lot. Another sleeps in a chair in the lobby of an overflow shelter riddled with bedbugs and smelling of human waste. It wasn’t pretty.

It can be hard to push past what your nose smells and your eyes see, but when you do, you experience the treasure of a people who know what it’s like to cling to the Lord Jesus. With eager ears we listened to stories of real people with real lives, real pasts and very real futures. We learned that you can have a law degree and still wind up sleeping in the doorway of a church. We learned that a violent and dangerous drug dealer can be redeemed to speak the Word of God to hundreds of people every week who stand in line to call him “pastor” and ask for his guidance. We learned that not everyone on the street chose to be there, and that very few of them can even do anything about it now.

We learned that it’s a whole lot more complicated than “get a job”.

I hope I never forget the names and faces of the people we met. And I hope that I never forget that just because someone doesn’t have a home, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t just as real of a person and child of God as the next man or woman I see, and it doesn’t mean that they might not have a better relationship with the Lord than I do.

I was truly challenged by the faith of the friends we made on the streets of Atlanta. They showed me clearer than anyone ever has before that people who have nothing – literally nothing – but the Lord Jesus in their hearts, can be joyful, content and blessed.

Joyful and blessed. With little on their backs, nothing in their stomach and only the night air over their heads. Truly joyful and blessed. What a challenge this was to the recent call on my heart to learn to be content with what turns out to be a great abundance in my life. Suddenly my mind began to change – what I once saw as “needs” were being redefined as mere wants. I began to see that “need” can be a relative term in our society, and that I should take more care in how I throw that word around.

God was showing me that all anyone truly needs is Jesus. No one spoke that message from Him any clearer than a woman I’ll call Tess.

(to be continued one more time)

If you want to experience some of the sounds of our trip, check out this youtube video of Jimmy Jackson, one of the people we met downtown. He's got a gift of singing the Word!

Changing My Mind Part 2

2009-01-06T10:06:00.003-05:00

Ok, as promised, I’m finally back. I don’t know about where you are living, but here it is raining Noah-style. I don’t think it’s ever going to stop! I mean, I know we have to make up for a drought and stuff, but do we have to do it all in one week?

I say all that just to tell you that I stopped by the auto parts store this morning to buy new windshield wipers for the van. As the extremely helpful young man was ringing me up, I started reading a package of windshield treatment wipes on display by the register. The claim made right there on the cover was too good to NOT wind up on the blog, so here it is: “Patented hydrophobic technology”. You can actually make your windshields afraid of water. No doubt.

Which leads me to my next question: If the technical term for rabies is hydrophobia, does using those wipes on your windshield automatically make your van rabid? Are there shots for that?

ANYway… I told you last time that the Lord has been changing the way I look at things, and I suppose that doesn’t preclude windshield treatments, right? Well, on a more serious note, He really has been changing my mind about a lot of things. I can’t even wait to get started telling you all about it, but I think I’ll have to break it up into a few more posts. Don’t worry, though, I’m finally back in my comfy little spot in Panera with my hot tea and muffin (blueberry today), bent on getting a couple of posts pounded out before I leave so you don’t have to wait around on me this time.

I’ll start back in by telling you about that verse that He re-showed me (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, I mentioned it at the end of my last post).

From the very infancy of my spiritual walk, I’ve clung to the words of Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through him who gives me strength”. Every test in school, every trial in life, I’ve quoted that verse and held tight to all it implied in my heart. God can and will give me the drive and ability to make it through any task set before me. I mean, that’s what it says, right? And then I read it again the other day in context, and He changed my mind.

Contentment has been a theme in my life lately, so maybe that’s why it all struck me differently when I began reading just a few verses before the “famous” one: “…I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything though him who gives me strength.”

Oh how I am trying to learn that secret Paul! To have the strength to be happy with what I have – no more, no less. It’s a tough struggle for me, and I dare say that I’m not alone in it. And it’s really just as tough on one side of the spectrum as it is on the other. When we’re out of money, I’m all too aware of our needs and worry about how they will be met. When we have more money than we “need” (which doesn’t happen often in my opinion… but I have a feeling He’s going to change my mind about that too), I find myself consumed by my wants and the never-ending pursuit of “more”. It really is a struggle that only He can give me the strength to face. But I’m learning that I don’t call on Him nearly as often as I should in that area of my life.

So that’s where He began to change my mind a few weeks ago – by teaching me that contentment takes spiritual strength. I truly can be content in any and every financial circumstance through Him Who gives me strength. Given my incredible lack of words right now (in quality, not volume – I never have a problem with volume…) it probably doesn’t seem like much of a mental conversion, but it was the beginning of something huge – something that’s definitely not over.

God had a deep message for my heart the day I re-read that verse, but we all know that sometimes words alone just aren’t enough to get the point across. So to make it stick, He took me to Atlanta to see that you truly don’t have to own a thing to be unmistakably rich in this life.

(to be continued)

I'm Still Here!

2009-01-03T17:58:00.002-05:00

I'm so sorry it has been so long since my last post - I haven't had a second to write in all the holiday rush. I hope to post in the next couple of days, because I have a lot to share with you! I just wanted everyone to know that I haven't given up on blogging - I've just been burried in the busyness of the end of the year!

I'll be back in a couple of days. Thanks for checking in!

Changing My Mind

2008-12-18T09:14:00.002-05:00

(Sorry this is a long one! If you don't want to read it, but want to see a great picture, scroll down to the bottom and click on the last link about the squirrel!)

I’d like to think that I’m always open to the Lord changing my way of thinking about things. If I’m honest, though, I know that a statement like that probably isn’t true – I’m not sure I’m truly 100% open to anything all the time. I do have a bit of a stubborn streak. It runs in the family (but don’t ask us about it, we’ll just vehemently deny it). I can at least admit, however, that I should be open to learning new things about “old” stuff from Him.

It seems like lately He’s been in a mode (of sorts – I’m not entirely sure that God has “modes”) of revamping how I look at things, and I’m starting to like it. Take quiet times, for instance. I’ve always thought that a quiet time consisted of sitting down in a quiet place (hence the name), alone with the Lord reading His word and praying to Him. Sure, sometimes for me it also involves reading a devotional or doing some kind of study, but for the most part a “quiet time” has generally had a very distinct flavor about it. Until the other night, of course.

I love going to MSNBC.com and looking at The Week In Pictures slideshow. I don’t know, maybe it’s just a lazy way of catching up on the news, but I’ve always had an appreciation for un-staged photography. There’s something just so fascinating and real about pausing a completely unpredictable moment and getting to analyze every little detail about that split second moment. I could look at pictures like the ones they post in that slideshow for hours – and I have spent many days in the past doing just that.

Well I hadn’t been on MSNBC in a while, so I thought I’d check it out the other night. Shane was studying for a lesson and the boys were already in bed, so why not, right? I mean, I had lesson plans to make too, but why do that when you can mindlessly browse photography from around the world? So I dived in, never once expecting that the next 45 minutes or so would be a profound conversation with Jesus.

It started out slowly, as almost knee-jerk reactions to landscape and nature shots.

Boy, Papa, that sure is pretty. Wow – thank you for sunrises and snow. That’s the funniest picture of a squirrel I’ve ever seen in my life!!

But it soon changed to something much deeper.

A shot of a dozen or more babies sleeping on the same mat in an orphanage in the Congo, their parents torn from them and lost in a ridiculous civil war. Oh Father, please comfort them.

An aerial few of hundreds of baby chicks left to starve as part of a planned solution to prevent the avian flu. This is Your creation and I’m not sure we’re doing a great job of taking care of it.

The face of a beautiful young woman lying dead on the shore of a land that someone decided she didn’t belong in. Oh Papa, I’m so sorry. Your daughter was beautiful, and I know you love her.

Images of Jewish settlers in Israel being forcefully evicted from their homes by police in full riot gear. Lord! Your people! Your treasured possession – how your heart must break for them and long for them to once again gather under your wing.

I was having a deep, intimate time of communion with our Lord over pictures and the news. It seemed surreal. Someone else was in the room just feet away, I didn’t have a Bible anywhere near me, the pictures weren’t anything you’d see in a stained glass wall at church, there weren’t any worship songs playing or formal prayers being said – it was just a time of sharing in smiles and heartaches with the Lord.

And then it got personal.

First I saw this picture. A woman in New York completely unable to cram herself in her car on Black Friday because of all the toys she and the person I assumed was driving the car (you couldn’t see that far into the car for all the bags and boxes) had bought at Toys R Us.

Then I saw this one. The wide, innocent eyes of a young boy in the Congo staring at the camera, one hand holding a pile of flour and the other desperately scraping more out of the gravel and dirt. His beautiful, dark face splashed with the white dust of his treasured meal. A treasured meal. Flour scraped out of the dirt. I was stunned.

Immediately I thought of the three bags of flour I had in my own pantry, two of which I’m going to have to throw out because they are past date. He would be overwhelmed to have those stale remains. Then I thought of the contrast of the picture of the lady in New York. He’s eating dirty, raw flour, and we are drowning in a wealth of toys and presents we don’t even need this Christmas.

I spent some time that evening just standing in front of our pantry looking at all the excess we have stored up in there. I wished I could find that little boy and just give him the whole thing. I wished I could bring him and his family to live with us in a place where people throw out stuff every day that they are literally dying to have. I decided that we would at least honor him by living out of our pantry for the next few weeks when it’s just our family in the house. Why do we need more than what we already have?

Believe it or not, I’m not through with this post. I’ve learned more than I have room for here or you have patience to read, I’m sure. And God’s still working on me – those images still marinating in my brain. Just this morning He taught me something new along these line in His Word, bringing new light to a verse that has been a personal favorite for about 14 years. But it will have to wait until next time.

I hope you have a great Christmas if I don’t get to write again before that time. Remember why we’re celebrating, and Who it is all about.

And if you really do want to see the funniest picture of a squirrel I’ve ever seen in my life, click here.

Change of Plans

2008-12-10T11:23:00.002-05:00

Yeah, so I had my plans all laid out this morning – go to Target and finish Christmas shopping, then to Panera to write for a couple of hours before my lunch date. I didn’t even eat breakfast because I was anticipating that pumpkin muffin and hot tea that has become my Tuesday morning fare as of late. Going there seems to be the best way for me to get any writing done.

And then my tire went flat.

I’m thankful that it wasn’t flat (or at least I didn’t notice it being flat) before school, so that Big Brother (much to his dismay) didn’t have to miss anything. No, it made it all the way to Little Man’s preschool, presenting itself in all its pancake-ness to me when I left the building thinking I was finally free to live life on my terms for a while.

So now, instead of eating a muffin and sipping on a hot cuppa to the delightful sounds of classical music and friendly chatter, I’m stuck in a waiting room with half a computer battery and no food, surrounded by the acrid stench of rubber and listening to Handy Manny playing on the TV despite the fact that the only two year old in the room is the only one not even watching. But I’m not bitter….

Actually, I have no right to be bitter. When I sat on my couch this morning and prayed (between sleepy nods as my body tried desperately to drift back into a deep slumber), I told the Lord that He alone is King in my life, and that I wanted to live my life in submission to Him today. I guess He took me seriously, huh?

The truth is that I got up this morning and budgeted my day according to what I thought needed to happen. I pre-spent money and time that wasn’t even really mine in the first place. So what that I thought I was going to sit down and write something for His honor and His glory? If that’s not what He had in mind then who am I to argue?

I thought I was “supposed” to be browsing the aisles of Target and happily clicking away without regard to hunger or a power supply at Panera, but apparently I wasn’t. Apparently I was supposed to spend my morning sitting in a cold, smelly tire shop, waiting to learn just how many Christmas presents I would have had to put back anyway in order to afford the bill that’s coming my way (because with our van, it’s never just a tire). Why? Was that it? The money? Or am I being kept from some horrible, unforeseen accident or an encounter with someone I wasn’t supposed to talk to? On the other hand could I be here to encounter these people for some reason?

Who knows. And who should know, anyway? When God changes our circumstances, it’s because He has a good reason. If He sees fit to share that reason with us, then we should feel blessed. If not, then we should just be thankful that He is the Great I AM, and that He always knows what’s best.

I’m clinging to that thought today, and trying to be thankful for cold waiting rooms and smelly tires. There’s a plan, and it’s much bigger than mine was to go shopping and eat muffins. I just hope I can find it in me to be thankful if that plan eventually involves a gigantic bill….

Oh Father, I love that you’re bigger than me and my little faith!

***Update: Just so you know, it definitely wasn’t just a tire. Apparently that was $645 we didn’t need for anything else! I actually am thankful that we were able to pay it, and that I knew that bill was coming. Remember “The Rule”? Yeah, someone just gave us some cash for Christmas the other day, so I knew something like this would happen. When the guy told me how much the bill was, I just laughed. He apologized for the bad news, but I told him it was ok because I had honestly expected it! I’m just wondering why “The Rule” was a few hundred dollars over what we were given this time…does that mean there’s more cash in our future to fill in the hole? We shall see, we shall see.

Dieting? Well, It's Elementary, Really.

2008-12-04T21:51:00.004-05:00

Wow – have I got a diet plan for you. Not that you need to be on a diet…. I’m just saying, this is an incredibly affective way to lose weight. Best thing is – it’s cheap and you don’t have to cook a thing. Are you ready for this?

I call it the Elementary Diet (oh boy, I hope that’s not trademarked somewhere….I can’t afford a lawyer….). This is how it works. Step one is to plan a day to attend lunch with your Kindergartener. Don’t have one in Kindergarten? That’s ok. Call your closest elementary school and tell them you want to volunteer to let the Kindergarten classroom assistant take a lunch off. Trust me – they won’t turn you down.

Next, show up at the school and find your lunch partner. Obviously this would be your own kid if you are a K-grade room parent, but if it’s not, then look for the one kid whose parents actually needed that memo sent home in the first nine weeks about the need for children to take a bath every day (yes, by the way, that memo was real – I still have it). Don’t worry, you’ll know how to spot him – he looks a little like Pigpen from the Peanuts. By the way, you will notice that lunch starts at 10:30, so you won’t be needing breakfast that morning. See? It’s already working and you haven’t even done anything yet!

Now saddle up in line behind your little one (or Pigpen), and grab a nice melamine tray full of gelatinous meat (if you’re lucky they’ll throw in some gravy), heat-lamped turnip greens and “California blend” veggies (seriously, do people in California even eat this stuff? I don’t think so). Oh, and don’t forget to grab a roll and a box of slightly chilled milk on the way out. Now, simply sit back and let the magic work itself.

You will find, ironically, that the actual food you have loaded onto your tray doesn’t really have anything to do with the diet itself. In fact, you may even find that even though it somewhat resembles the same exact food you ate in elementary school (leading you to wonder if they just have a gigantic never-ending storehouse of 25 year old freeze-dried food somewhere), today’s mystery dishes are now much healthier. They actually contain vitamins and proteins found in real produce and meat, and (believe it or not) tend to taste somewhat good. But don’t worry, you won’t have to fret over wanting seconds you’ll never be allowed to obtain. Trust me.

It is at this point that the diet truly begins in full swing. All you have to do is keep your eyes open. Watch the girl in front of you squish reconstituted mashed potatoes through the gap in her teeth. Check out the kid who is trying desperately to be funny by unsuccessfully shoving an orange peel the size of a small football into his mouth. Observe your neighbor spreading butter all over his ham before he eats it, simply because he ran out of bread and hasn’t figured out – yet – that he could just eat the butter out of the little cup all by itself (don’t worry – come back next week. He’ll have figured it out by then).

Then take a gander at the rest of the table. The kid who puts ketchup on everything – including his pears. The one with the stuffy nose who feels the need to unstuff it right at the table. The girl whose loving mom knows that she likes lots of mayonnaise spread on the lunchmeat before it’s wrapped around the pickle. The boy who seriously thinks his chocolate milk tastes better with peas in it. Oh yeah, I said peas. And all the while, notice that any somewhat tantalizing aromas that may have risen from your own tray have been blocked by the hand you have to keep throwing next to your nose every time Pigpen leans across you to tell your neighbor something that usually involves the phrase “Hey, watch what I can do!” (don’t watch, by the way. This is a diet plan, not a prescription for permanent self-starvation).

Even if you do decide to close your eyes for a moment or two and choke down some good ‘ole county government fare, don’t worry, you haven’t blown anything yet – the diet’s not even over. The torture will only last about 20 or 30 minutes, and then it will be time to prance your tray over to the wash window. This is the real grand finale – the icing on the cake, if you will. Check out what the lunch ladies do with all that left-over, ketchup-laden, partially-chewed decadence. Oh yeah, they throw it all together into this little trough that leads to a garbage disposal, where it backs up and lingers in a pile of spooge and nastiness, all the while begging for a violent shove of the scrapper to send it into the rotating blades of horror and put it out of its misery. Mmmm, just like mom used to make, huh? Well, guess what? There goes all hopes of wanting to eat dinner, and possibly even breakfast the next morning. See how it works?

Do this just a couple of times a month and the memories alone will be enough to keep the weight off for years. I’m really looking forward to fitting into those size 6 Diamond Cut jeans I couldn’t get rid of after monster-huge baby #1 (they were really new when I got pregnant…who wants to get rid of perfectly brand new jeans? Even if they are hmmfnumabah sizes too small….ahem….). Just a few more lunch dates, and I’ll be there….I just know it….

Happy eating, friends!

Um, Thanks?

2008-11-27T18:59:00.002-05:00

Last weekend Little Man came home from church with a treasure box he had made in Sunday School. It's a small, round wooden box with the words "I'm thankful for..." penned around the lid and a few flashy jewels glued on top by the little guy himself. Inside was a single piece of paper telling us what he is most thankful for in this life. You want to know what it said?

"...my kitty who throws up and vomits."

Yeah, buddy - me too. Meee toooo.

Happy Thanksgiving, whatever you're thankful for!

-Samantha

A Little Buried Treasure

2008-11-24T07:32:00.004-05:00

I was looking through Proverbs 31 the other day in preparation for a talk I was giving on a retreat. I hate to admit it, but sometimes when I read that Psalm I think I’m just a glutton for punishment, because I always find myself deeply entrenched in the sin of comparison. And comparing yourself with Super Woman is hardly ever a feat that lands you anywhere near on top. So it was with great caution that I stepped into the description of the epitome of all women, and in that spirit I found a little treasure – a new mark of character to strive for that I don’t think is too far out of my reach for once.

It was in the middle of verse 28 that I found this tiny gem, sandwiched between the parts of Wonder Woman’s resume that tell of her never eating the bread of idleness and pretty much surpassing every other female in existence in her perfection (ok, are you catching a hint of bitterness and jealousy? I’m telling you, this may be the one Psalm that actually causes me to sin…). There, in those tiny words “Her children arise and call her blessed” I found my sparkling glimmer of hope.

Now wait a minute – don’t think for a second that I’m about to say that my kids will ever hang from a lamppost in the middle of town square and shout my praises to the masses. I’m not delusional, friends. No, no. This is definitely one of those times when the original language tweaked something deeper than our own English translation was able to convey to my heart (and you thought I was starting to lose it…well, fear not – “it” is all here in it’s glory).

Just for kicks I looked up that Hebrew word used there for “call (her) blessed”, and do you know what I found? It actually means “to call someone ‘blessed’”. Shocking, I know. But then the definition goes on to say that it also is used in other instances to call someone “happy”. Hmmm. Let the conviction games begin!

I immediately started to wonder if my children would “rise up and called me happy” to anyone, ever. And I have to admit that I think one of them would most of the time. He’s the one that doesn’t get in trouble a lot, so to him, life is pretty happy. But the other one? Yeah, I don’t think Little Man would exactly use “happy” as his chosen adjective for Dear Old Mom.

Just the other day we were watching a movie together when a character on screen started yelling in frustration over something. In his cute little stutter, Little Man turned to me and asked, “Why wh- why that man yellin’?” I told him it was because he was just upset over something, and without hesitating he asked, “Wike you?”

Ouch.

But you know, I actually think that’s something I can work on. In fact, I think the Lord’s been dealing with my heart on this subject a lot lately. He’s been gently teaching me about appreciating people and things, resting in Him, enjoying His presence and – yes – not losing it so much with my three year old. I’d say He’s definitely leading me in a direction that could result in a lot more happiness in my home.

For quite some time the greatest desire of my heart has been to experience unhindered joy in the Lord, of which happiness is a mere byproduct. Now, I know that doesn’t mean that every day would look like the filming of a Brady Bunch song (you know – from those later episodes when they thought it was a good idea to be in a singing group together…until You Know Who’s voice changed and ruined everything…), but I don’t think that’s what real “happiness” is all about anyway. I think it has a lot more to do with the state of your mind and the place of your heart.

I also know that our enemy just read these words I’ve written and would love nothing else than to knock this “silly” little notion out of my head forever. But I pray that the Lord would protect me from his schemes and let me take joy in the fact that my Dad really is bigger and stronger than that bully, and that He’s already beat his tail all over the playground and back.

Yes, I think happiness – in the right, Christ-led sense of the word – is attainable, even for me (despite what my youngest might think). It's in there somewhere, buried beneath the yelling and gnashing of teeth that is seen most often around bed times and in Target or Wal-Mart. With a little help from the Lord I'll be able to dig it up and present it as a treasure to my sons. And I’m looking forward to laughing when my sons stand up in the presence of witnesses and declare: “My mom may not be the Proverbs 31 woman, but she’s happy!”

Oh, what a fun day that will be!

Delight And Rest

2008-11-20T07:34:00.003-05:00

I've just returned from a day of solitude - 24 hours of silence and being alone with the Lord - and I have to say that it was sweet and wonderful. I've mentioned on here, oh, I don't know, about a million times lately that I've been overwhelmed with living at the speed of life the past few months, and it was definitely time for a break. Honestly, no vacation in the world could have been more refreshing for my soul!

The Lord allowed me a lot of sweet rest and sleep, and then He had a specific word for me: "Delight in me. Enjoy me!" Up until yesterday I had always thought that "delighting in the Lord" was a suggestion. You know, like, "Try taking a warm bath to relax...it works for me!" But He very clearly showed me in His word that delighting in Him and enjoying Him is just as much of a command as "do good" or "turn from evil".

The scripture He had me focus the most on was Psalm 37. He definitely had some peace to speak into my heart concerning economy-type things through these verses, which maybe I'll get a chance to write about soon. If you read Psalm 37, you might see that it can be fairly easily broken down into two categories: commands and promises. Even all the stuff in there about what happens to wicked people can really be chalked up on the "promises" side of the board. And when you do that with the whole psalm, you'll very quickly see that "delight" and "enjoy" show up as commands.

Now we would never, ever think of "turning from evil" as a strong suggestion that we could simply take or leave at our own whim, would we? I mean, that doesn't even seem like a remote point of negotiation in the kingdom of our Lord, does it? Well what if He is just as serious about us delighting in Him? I'm beginning to think that He is.

How amazing is our God that He would command us to stop and enjoy Him. To take a break and breathe a deep, calming breath of His presence. I'd love for you to stop right now and think of something that you really, really enjoy - something that is your special escape from the reality of life. You got that picture in your head? For me it's a warm, candle-lit bath and chocolate truffles (shallow, I know - but it works for me...). As much joy and satisfaction and release that moment or thing or experience gives you - that is what God is commanding you to experience with Him. Amazing thought, isn't it?

I'm really looking forward to figuring out how to make enjoying the Lord a routine part of my spiritual discipline, and I'm excited to see how it might look! But most of all, I'm thankful for a God and Father who delights in me and wants me to enjoy and delight in Him so much that He commands it. What an amazing God we serve!

WIGIAT? I think I know...

2008-11-12T08:07:00.004-05:00

I was sitting in the pickup line at school the other day when I saw a bumper sticker that really made me think. No, it wasn’t the one mini van’s giant red Darth Vader head my kids are so envious of, it was one I’d actually not seen yet. At first glance, it simply said, “WIGIAT”.

As I sat there and thought, Wigi-what?, and assumed that it probably had something to do with our current president (as about half the bumper stickers around here that have anything to do with the letter W do), I noticed that it said something else in very small print underneath those letters. I had to nearly snuggle up in their backseat to read it, but somehow I was able to make it out just short of hitting their rear bumper. It read:

“WHERE IS GOD IN ALL THIS”

It was kind of a disturbing thought to begin with, then I saw the “Jesus fish” not too far above it on the back door. At that point I was really disturbed.

I kind of wanted to get out of the car and remind her where God is in all this. God is exactly where He’s always been, and right where He belongs: on His throne.

Psalm 29:10 says, “The Lord sits enthroned over the flood; the Lord is enthroned as King forever”, and I believe it. Yes, our world is a mess. And yes, it would appear that we are drowning in it. But that doesn’t mean that God has forgotten us or disappeared. He sees us and He knows our hurt and confusion. He feels our pain and is deeply saddened by our fears. This is far from the Eden He designed for us, and He can’t wait to step in and take us home.

So why doesn’t He do something about it? Because He’s perfect and patient and just, and so much in love with us that He can’t. Doesn’t seem to make sense, does it? 2 Peter 3:9 tells us why it should make perfect sense: “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” He’s waiting for us to believe so we can come home.

I must admit, though, that some days I feel selfishly feel like enough people believe that He needs to come back and save us all from the rest of us who don’t, you know? But that’s just one more reason in a long line of reasons why I am so very, very glad that I am not God. He alone is perfect, and He alone knows the hearts of men. He already knows the perfect time to step in and make Himself known to even those who refuse to believe. It’s been marked on His calendar since before the beginning of time, and you can rest assured that He won’t forget or be a minute late. Our God is perfect and perfectly on time.

So where is God in all this? Right where He should be. And to those of us who do believe, that place is closer to us than our next breath. Through the Holy Spirit we have uninterrupted access to the Lord our God, who works tirelessly in and through us each day to strengthen our faith and lead others to believe in His name. He hasn't gone anywhere.

After having a few days to think about this, I’m considering making a rebuttal sticker. Maybe if I did it would say something like “GSIRH” (GOD SAYS, “I’M RIGHT HERE”), or WIOFIAT (WHERE IS OUR FAITH IN ALL THIS). But maybe it should simply just say “I AM” – because that’s all we really need to know. God is and was and always will be. Ultimately, we have nothing to fear.

That being said; Come Lord Jesus, Come. The flood is rising…

Boy-Speak

2008-11-01T11:03:00.003-04:00

Ok, so I'm like the worst blogger ever lately. It's not that there hasn't been anything "blog-worthy" going on - in fact it's quite the opposite. There's been so much going on in our lives it's hard to stop and take a breath, much less sit down and write about it. So for those of you who used to check in regularly (like when I posted regularly), please forgive me and please don't give up on me yet. I'm not done - I haven't quit a blogging "phase" - I just have to get a grip on this whirlwind of activities, events and deadlines we call "life". Sometimes I feel like we're so busy doing the business of "life" that we don't have time to actually live it! What happened?

But don't take this as an all doom-and-gloom attitude on my part. I think we are just in a season of life where we're not only learning to adjust to new things, but we're also learning how to say "no". As you can tell, we're not so good at that last part yet, but we will be! And our family will be stronger for it!

Anyway, as a goodwill gesture (and a way to actually post something on this day when I have two sick kids and a husband who is away for the day), I thought I would offer up a little lighthearted "piece" on how to decipher some of the lingo in our household. Enjoy, and pray that my priorities will come into focus soon so that I can be back in the swing of writing!

A dictionary of terms you’ll need encase you visit my house someday:

Joopbits – the small wooden things Daddy likes to stick in his mouth after dinner.

Shark – 1. a sometimes rather large and possibly ferocious sea creature; 2. the name for anything that has a point on it or could cut you (as in a “shark” knife or a “shark” joopbit).

Pinato – a musical instrument consisting of black and white keys. Instrument is usually played with your hands in loud banging patterns that adults find quite annoying (unless they aren’t in charge of you and then it becomes “cute”).

Bwudder – a male sibling. *Note: can be interchanged with “punching bag”, “scapegoat”, and on rare occasions “best friend”.

Bonina – a long, yellow fruit that can be peeled, smashed and ground into the carpet when mom isn’t looking.

Peapop – a very colorful exotic bird which can be found at the zoo and in the woods around Aunt Kellee’s house.

Poskickles – a cold, frozen treat that is best served in the bathtub or to shirtless wonders in their swimming trunks.

Nightberries – bad dreams you have after you see something scary that you weren’t supposed to be watching in the first place

The King, aka The Princess – the principal at Big “Bwudder’s” school who gets him out of the car every morning. Yeah, he’s famous.

Pahtark – tasty toaster pastry usually served at breakfast. Can be found in rogue trace amounts in the couch cushions, the carpet, the arm chair… (why do we buy those things again?)

Chickenpway – our favorite fast food restaurant, home of the “pway pwace”, our favorite milkshakes, and (of course) the cow we're scared of but always want to see!

Magnetized - what happened to the boys' cousin when our pastor dunked him under the water during church the other day!

Breathing Deep

2008-10-16T09:55:00.005-04:00

Sometimes at the end of the day when I'm tucking the boys into bed, I'll ask them what their favorite part of the day was. They'll take a few seconds to think, and then their eyes will light up as they give their answer. I love hearing about their favorite part of the day, even if it's the exact same favorite part of the day before. I've worked with teenagers long enough to know that the time is rapidly approaching when they won't want to readily tell me about any part of their day, so it's something I try to treasure up in my heart.

If someone had asked me yesterday what my favorite part of the day was, I wouldn't have even had to think. By far the most outstanding part of my day was sitting with Little Man on the couch after his nap. Our airconditioner is broken, so during the day we have the windows open and several fans blowing, creating a very peaceful mixture of white noise and nature sounds. Nothing could have brought me more joy at that moment than sitting with him snuggled on my lap, taking in the peace and the stillness that was all around us.

We sat that way for at least fifteen minutes before either of us spoke a word. Oh how I wish there were more moments like that in our week! No whining or complaining, no tears, no punishments, no accidents....just peace - peace that was being shared together. At times it seems like nothing in my life feels greater than moments like those. To just hold him and feel him in my arms and smell his little boy smell and kiss him on the bridge of the nose... These are the memories I will carry with me forever!

But you know, the more I thought about how much I enjoyed that time with my son, the more I realized that God cherishes the same moments with us. How many times a day must He long for us to simply sit down, be quiet and snuggle up to Him?

I'm so thankful today for the God who knows me better than I know myself and who cherishes nothing more than time He gets to spend with me. I'm looking forward to the next moment I get to simply sit with Him and breathe in the peace that surrounds us.

As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to take one of those moments right now. Care to join us?

Why We Didn't Get To Eat Japanese (and other stories) Part 2

2008-10-13T08:56:00.002-04:00

Ok, so you’ve heard about Friday (if you haven’t, read about it here). I told you it was just the beginning…

Saturday morning we woke up and went to get haircuts. When we came back, we noticed that Big Brother was starting to run a fever. Of course, it would make sense that he would come down with a sinus infection just like Little Man had the previous week. Bummer, but manageable.

By that evening he was feeling pretty warm, so we gave him some Tylenol and went to the store to buy a thermometer. It was getting obvious that church on Sunday morning was out for at least one of us, but it still wasn’t unchartered territory. We’ve done fevers before.

It did kind of bother me a little that he didn’t have any other symptoms – no runny nose, no coughing, nothing – but I just passed it off as a quirky illness that would probably run its course. We even went out for lunch with the family on Sunday and then went shopping at Kohl’s (I know – Mother Of The Year – you can nominate me later and I’ll mention you in my acceptance speech…). He was feeling pretty good thanks to Tylenol, so we thought we’d be in the clear soon. After all, it had been well over 24 hours and no other symptoms had crept up, so maybe it was just some kind of virus and it would all be over soon.

Or maybe not. We hadn’t hit Sunday night yet.

By Sunday evening his fever was up to 104.9 and he was pretty miserable. I don’t think he’s ever run a fever that high before, and it was a little scary. We called our friend (who just so happens to be his pediatrician and an amazing person to answer our phone calls) and asked him if we should be panicked by such a high fever. He asked some questions and then assured us that warranted panicking had less to do with numbers and a lot more to do with behavior. Was he out of sorts? Lethargic? Vomiting? If not, it would probably be ok just to watch it. If he started any of that other stuff, though – especially the vomiting – then we’d have to go to an urgent care.

I bet you can guess what happened at about 12:30 in the morning.

And again at 8:00 (times three).

Ok, off to the urgent care we go. He was sick – really sick. It took 5 hours, a urinalysis, a chest x-
ray, three tubes of blood work, and two shots before they let us go home with a couple of prescriptions. They had nothing more to tell us than he was sick with some kind of bacterial infection and that we needed to follow up with his pediatrician back home if he didn’t get much better. They felt so sorry for him, though, that they gave him two popsicles, a stack of stickers and a stuffed animal.

At least now we had some antibiotics on board, so things would get better, right? We took a car ride through an animal park, knowing that we couldn’t do anything that required him to walk or be around other people. He seemed to be feeling better, and we had a blast dodging ostriches and feeding pigs and zebras from our window. A good time was had by all, but by that night things got a lot worse.

The 104.9 fever was back, along with screams of stomach pain and burning eyes. I was so scared to see him like this that at one point I was in tears. He definitely wasn’t better, and I wasn’t sure what to even do to bring him a little comfort. We called our friend again and were told what to watch for incase we needed to take him to the emergency room. Beyond that, he said, we would need to leave a little earlier than planned and come on home.

Praise God, we got the fever down with Tylenol and a bath, so we didn’t have to go to the emergency room. The next morning we packed up and headed home a little early, making it to the pediatrician’s office just before closing. By then his nose had started to run just a little and his eyes were a bright cherry red. With still no great explanation other than a bacterial infection (there just wasn’t any other evidence of anything else), he got two more shots and we went home to monitor the fever and rest.

By the next morning the fever had peaked at a strong 102.8 (where it would stay for the next couple of days), and both eyes showed signs of pink eye. Later that afternoon his right eye would nearly swell shut with infection, and his nose would finally start running a little, but ironically he was improving. By then we had started oral antibiotics and the light at the end of the tunnel was finally growing bigger.

So there we were, fall break pretty much over, a limping van, a recovering kid, and a pile of homework yet to be done (homework over break in KINDERGARTEN – what the world?!?!?!). But we were all alive and at home (not lying in a hospital), so it could have been worse. Maybe next year, though, we’ll have one of those “stay-cations” people are so fond of these days.

Come to think of it, staying home sounds like a great idea…

With any luck they'll open a Nagano's in Tennessee.

Why We Didn't Get To Eat Japanese (and other stories)

2008-10-10T12:59:00.003-04:00

Wow – we have had quite the adventure over the past few days. It’s fall break around here, which is apparently an invitation to chaos in our family. Who knew.

It all started with a trip home to North Carolina to see Shane’s parents. We were so excited to get away and to see family and friends that it didn’t even phase us when we started to notice a strange noise coming from the van. We pulled over on an exit ramp and discovered a flat tire. No problem – we’d just change it and be on our way. After all, there was still plenty of time to make it to our favorite Japanese restaurant for dinner, so what was the rush?

Well, someone forgot to tell the spare tire about Nagano’s amazing shrimp sauce and carrots. We tried to fix things on our own, but the wench mechanism holding the tire to the bottom of the car was broken. Still, no problem. AAA was just a call away, they’d come and save us in time!

An hour later we had been through all the alphabet flash cards with the boys and were making up new forms of “I Spy” to pass the time when “Bud” (aka Larry the Cable Guy’s not-so-distant cousin) showed up in the flatbed tow truck. Finally! He’d have the tools we needed and – though dinner would be late – hibachi steak was still on the map.

Only he couldn’t get it to budge either. There would be no “road-side assistance” – we were going to have to take it into “town” to a buddy of his who agreed to open up his shop just for us (“’cuz they ain’t nothin’ open ‘round these parts after 5 or on the weekends…”). So we agreed to load the van on the truck and climb aboard. He told us there was plenty of room – Shane and I could sit up front with him and the kids could sit “in the back” behind the seats. I was thinking jump seats. He was thinking piles of toolboxes and cables. And to think I was worried that they wouldn’t have car seats….seat belts would have been nice. Heck, seats would have been awesome.

It was after we finally got rolling that we learned “Bud’s” buddy wouldn’t be able to meet us for another hour or so. In that case, why not make another stop? It was off to a trailer park to unlock a car door. Yeah, awkward… but whatever, right? At this point, though, Nagano’s was looking doubtful. Although, if it was up to Buddy we were going to make it – he had no problem going 80 down the interstate and 30 around hairpin mountain road turns. Forget Halloween, the nightmares came early for us this year.

So we unlocked the Johnson’s car and headed “into town” to the tire shop (or, rather, we drove into the middle of nowhere to a freestanding garage). There we met “the King” (I can only assume that was his name – after all, it was tattooed in rather large script on his forearm….but not on the same arm as the Cadillac symbol, of course). The King reminded me a little of Eminem and a kid we once knew, and he turned out to be a really decent guy who knew a whole heck of a lot about tires (information which he gladly imparted to us – if the whole writing and speaking thing doesn’t work out for me, I think I’m well prepped for a career in the tire business).

The King set in on our tire and soon hit a new snag: One of the three different sizes of lug nuts on the tire was stuck. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it off. Bud stepped in to help, but they were getting nowhere fast. Then the King seemed to remember some magic stuff in a spray can and used that to finally free up the situation.

Once the tire was off we could see that it sported a hole certainly big enough to pass a dime through piggy bank style. It took several more minutes (and a lot more instruction) to patch another old tire and fit it to the van. By the time we left, Nagano’s (which was still an hour away) was minutes from closing and Hardee’s was sounding like very viable competition.

So in the end, we endangered our kids’ lives and spent $60 to take a three hour detour into the Neverland of tow trucks and spare tires in the mountains of North Carolina. I have to admit, though, that the whole time I was feeling a sense of peace and patience that certainly surpassed understanding (which immediately meant to me that it had to be from God). Maybe He was keeping us from something. A wreck? A horrible act of nature? Food poisoning at our favorite restaurant? Who knows. Somehow it all just felt like part of the plan. So we ate a heatlamped thick burger at 9:45 instead of steak and mushrooms covered with shrimp sauce (mmmm…), so what? So we got to Shane’s parents house sometime around 11, no big deal. No one was hurt and our van was drivable (even though it has a used, patched tire on it). Things were really ok.

Too bad it was just the beginning….

I’ll be back later with more of the story.

I Want It All

2008-10-05T12:57:00.003-04:00

I was at a women’s conference not too long ago and heard the speaker say that her husband tells the Lord every day that he wants all He has for him for that day, and if there is someone who doesn’t want their portion he’ll take it too. I thought it was cute and funny, but I didn’t realize that God would use it to spur my spiritual life more than anything else that I heard that day.

I’m not used to asking for things that I want. For reasons that I won’t go into on the internet, I’ve never been comfortable asking for what I want, but I think it is mostly because for a long time I have been under the impression that I’m not worth the cost of most things that catch my eye (whether that cost be financial or simple physical effort). I guess I’ve always sort of believed that it was wrong to put someone out for something that I didn’t deserve in the first place (which, by the way, has made it a constant struggle to accept God’s free gift of grace).

It suddenly occurred to me the day of that conference, though, that each and every day of my life, God has preordained blessings that He has set aside just for me. It’s not selfish to ask Him for what He has already decided to give me! In fact, I bet nothing brings Him greater joy than a child who wants to receive every ounce of the full life He died to give her.

Not taking every blessing He offers would be like being offered a gigantic piece of cake on your birthday and only taking one small bite in the name of “being polite”. Not only are you insulting the host and causing the rest of the slice of cake to be thrown out, but you’re missing out on the gift that was made just for you!

It’s going to take a while to sink in, but I have to come to a place of realizing that God has blessings lined up for me every day, and that He’s already paid a price for them that He says I am totally worth. Old habits are hard to break, even if they are the habits of not doing something. Somehow, though, I want to get in the habit of asking God for everything He has for me – every word, every conviction, every whisper, every miracle – I don’t want to miss out on a crumb of blessing!

How about you? Has it ever occurred to you that God has piles of blessings marked with your name, and that it isn’t selfish to simply ask for them?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one. If you’re new to blogging and have never left a comment before, just click on the little line below this that says “__ Comments” (that blank will be some kind of number). You don’t have to have a blogger profile to do this – you can comment anonymously and simply type your name in your comment. Be sure to leave your email address if you want me to respond to your comment though!

Appointed

2008-10-01T21:32:00.003-04:00

I had the privilege of speaking to a women’s luncheon today about the freedom we have in Jesus from the sins that threaten to enslave us. Even though it wasn’t the best, most professional talk I’ve ever given (I lost my place like 3 times and totally drew a blank at the end – that’s never happened before), I know and believe that God had a word for someone there. I believe that not only because He spoke a specific word into my heart for this talk, but also because of the level of spiritual opposition I faced this past week as I prepared.

There were distractions galore, and missed writing days (for the second week in a row) that I had to try and find time to make up. Then Little Man got sick and was not only miserable, but unable to go to preschool (again, no time to prepare). Add on top of that not feeling too great myself, the doubts upon doubts that plagued me (to the point of doubting my doubts…which is really ridiculous), and the fact that the air conditioner in our house broke last night and I couldn’t sleep because it was so hot. Yeah, I’d say someone was trying to derail my train of thought, wouldn’t you?

I was feeling a little distracted and out of it right up to the time of speaking today. As always, I got to the place early so I could have a moment to gather my thoughts and pray. I love that time – it’s kind of the “point of no return”. The event’s about to start and you are absolutely as prepared as you are ever going to get. It’s just time to stop and give it all over to the Lord.
So I was sitting there praying, and I had a bit of an epiphany as I heard myself praying these words: Lord, I know that You have appointed this time and this place to speak. You have appointed these people and You have appointed the message I am about to deliver to them. You have a plan, and I know that You will not disappoint those You have prepared for this day…

It seems like such a silly thing to think of, but I guess I was just so worried about messing up and being disappointed (or others being disappointed in me), that I guess I just needed to hear out loud that whatever God Ordains and sets into motion, He won’t take back. Whatever He appoints He won’t then dis-appoint. I know that seems like stretching when I actually write it out, but it was pretty profound to me at the time.

Now that the talk is over and it didn’t exactly go the way I had envisioned it, I’m realizing that even if I feel “disappointed”, God carried through with exactly what He had planned. Whoever He appointed to be there and hear His word heard it, and the things He wanted to begin in her life were set in motion. Because God is good, and He can accomplish miracles through even our greatest debacles.

So I guess I’m writing this to say that if God has called you to do something – big or small – carry through with it, even if you think it’s going to be a disaster. Be faithful and obedient to His call in your life because if He has ordained it, He has a plan that He will carry through in spite of anything you might do. Just remember – it’s not about you, it’s all about Him.

I’m amazed tonight at how wonderful He is, and so thankful that He is the great I AM.

-Samantha

Be Careful What You Ask For

2008-09-25T11:26:00.003-04:00

I was asked a couple of months ago to speak at a women's luncheon next Wednesday. The topic is "Laying Aside the Flesh and Running With The Spirit". I've had an idea of what direction I'm supposed to take it in, but honestly with all that's been going on in our family lately I haven't had much time until today to sit down and write it all out.

I've been particularly struggling with an intro. Not the most important part of a talk, I know, but you do want to have a good way to start off your journey with someone. So I have been wracking my brain for the past week or so trying to come up with a way to start this talk - some story about trying to run and being hindered or tripped up. I just kept praying and asking the Lord to help me out so I could get the creative juices flowing, but there was just nothing but a "wait and see, it will all come together" kind of feeling.

Then there was yesterday.

My husband and I decided we needed to put air in the tires on the van. We were down to our last 3 quarters in change in the car, and one air hose session cost $.75 (of course). So we were bent and determined to fill up all four tires without having to go get more change. Time to attack this thing NASCAR style, huh?

So the plan was that he would gage the tires, and I would fill them, then he would run around and recheck them and I would top them off. Sounded great, but running with a hose apparently isn't my forte. I'm sure you've guessed by now what happened - I totally tripped over the hose and crashed shoulder-first into a stucco wall. Yeah, are you laughing like my husband was? Mmm-hmm - it was hilarious - just keep on laughing.

It scraped up my whole left arm, bruised my shoulder blade, left my shoulder stiff and (I'm pretty sure) realigned some of the vertebrae in my upper back. Lovely. But at least I now have a story for my intro...

I'm going to go find an ice pack and call my chiropractor. You just keep laughing.

I'm Actually Looking For A Rut

2008-09-22T07:52:00.003-04:00

Hello to all. Thanks for praying for my sister - she is at home and doing very well! God is truly amazing!

I wish I had something profound to write today, but I'm afraid I don't, really. Not that God hasn't been working in my life lately - it's just that I haven't had time to process it all and put it into words. In fact, He's shown me some pretty profound things over the past week or two, and I can't wait to figure out how to communicate them. For now, though, I think I feel a little like life is running over me like a steam roller. If this gives you any idea of what I mean - I went to bed last night at 8:40. By the way, 5:30 still comes early, regardless of when you fall asleep!

I guess there's just been a lot going on lately, you know? And the thing of it is, I'm a routine person. As bored as I can get with repetition, I absolutely have to have a routine. I kind of feel lost and unorganized without one, you know? I've been thinking since school started a couple of months ago that I would fall into one, but it just hasn't happened yet. I've tried and tried, but every time I think I find a routine that works for the week, something comes along to change it. I'm starting to wonder if God is trying to tell me something...

What about you? Are you a routine person? Or has God given you some great insight about why you shouldn't have a routine? I'm just curious this morning. Well, curious and wishing that I had some sort of plan for getting everything done this week that needs to get done.

Uh-oh - I think I hear that steamroller coming back for another pass...

Update And A Random Thought

2008-09-17T13:22:00.004-04:00

Thank you for all your prayers and kind words over the past couple of days. I am happy to say that my sister's surgery went well and that she is out of a neck brace and was actually able to sit in a chair for a while today! She should be out of the ICU sometime today and out of the hospital all together by the end of the week if everything goes well.

Now for the random thought: on the way home from the hospital last night I saw a billboard that advertised that the lottery this time around is at something like $162 Million. I briefly thought about how funny it would be if someone climbed up there and wrote next to it "...or a tank of gas".

Keep praying, and thanks again!