Practice Makes Peace...

Bookmark Today

2011-11-16T21:44:00.001-05:00

Really. I wish I could bookmark today so that I could go back and re-read it over and over again. It was one of those glorious it-all-just-worked kind of days.

We woke to two kids sleeping in late (our "weekend" is Tuesday/Wednesday around here) and the other two whispering and plotting how to build a Lego scenario. There's something wonderful about laying in bed, slowly adjusting to morning wakefulness and listening to kids share ideas and giggles.

Over the next couple of hours, everyone got moving and we shared a special weekend breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes, sausage, and pineapple. And I found myself laughing that our kids' appetites have gotten to the place where they'll polish off almost 3 full recipes of pancake batter. Wow!!

Then it was on to that every-day stuff. Laundry had to be done, the dog walked, beds made, the house opened to the warmth and breezes of the day. After the kids got their chores done, while Dad and I collaborated on laundry stuff and Ben got interested in a documentary, the young 'uns drifted out into the yard, riding bikes and doing some collaborating of their own. We knew they were making some form of game and working feverishly on a coloring project at the picnic table, but we weren't really paying attention. Until one of them started flagging down passers-by and attempted to begin going door-to-door with a flyer the kids had colored. Um, young 'un? What'cha dooooin'?

"We're inviting people to our Pine Cone Festeval!" (so says the spelling on the flyer) Once we got the details on the plans, we narrowed the invitation list to the family as opposed to the entire neighborhood, and agreed that the festivities would take place just as soon as we got the last load of laundry folded. It was a blast! The kids had planned everything, set out all the necessary supplies, considered safety (using only the old, trampled, softened pine cones for the Pine Cone Battle event), applied fairness by setting out equal turns for each participant, and were able to coherently explain the guidelines and scoring for each event they had planned. Each of us loved Pine Cone Golf (think putt-putt toward the road with a goal of surpassing a set finish line...Ben won with a beautiful swing), Pine Cone Battle (which devolved from teams pelting specific targets to a giggling free-for-all), Pine Cone Target (the inside lid of the sand table has a perfect bullseye pattern, so it was affixed to a tree and we took turns pelting it. Pine cones don't fly straight. 'Nuf said.), and the Pine Cone Pitch-Off (did I mention pine cones don't fly straight? They don't get good distance either; think spikey wiffle ball. lol). The first ever Pine Cone Festeval was a huge success. Plenty of encouragement, teamwork, and silly fun were had by all. And I am so proud of my little event organizers for putting it all together with no help from an adult!!

After the Festeval, we were all hot and sweaty (really? 87 degrees in mid-November??), so we headed down to the pool. We love it when we have the whole pool to ourselves as was the case today. After a relaxing swim, it was back to the house. Where Dan decided that we'd just cook dinner for the kids, then leave them with a movie and go get a bite to eat and have some big-people time for a little bit. O wonderful surprise!!! We ate. We talked. Uninterrupted. We browsed stores and found the birthday gift we'd wanted to get for Michael at 25 percent off. We came home to smiling kids ready for hugs and kisses goodnight.

It was a day filled with so many sweet things. I wish my memory could be counted on to accurately bookmark it and return to it with every detail intact. It's a day worth remembering.

Well, Thank You, But... (an Open Letter to My Nurses)

2011-09-21T01:47:00.002-04:00

Dear Nursing Staff,

Thank you for taking wonderful care of me today. Your prompt attention, compassion, sense of humor were all appreciated. I'd just like to address one misconception that seemed to come up *every* time one or another of you came to my room. One of you went so far as to be sure to inform the new nurse to the room of this staggering misconception. So, I'm sorry if I shatter you, but... being a mom of four kids and homeschooling them does not, in fact, qualify me for sainthood or Superwoman status. Although your awe and compliments totally made my day...when I closed my eyes and ignored their insane level of falsehood. :)

I could tell from your reactions that somewhere in your mind this picture was being painted:
A family in which some Otherworldly magic has imbued the very atmosphere with a backdrop of harp melodies, the strains of which caress each gentle child to wake in the morning with the sweetest of spirits. Upon awakening, this Otherworldly influence continues to weave its way through the day, guiding cheerful industry in chores and schoolwork, joyous kindness in relational interactions, ready and unquestioning obedience to instruction and correction, children ethereally gliding through the day on waves of every good virtue until sundown when, scrubbed clean and tucked snugly in bed, they drift into peaceful slumber again, smiles gracing their cherubic faces. All I can say is you've been reading way too much fantasy literature. Seriously.

I am not a saint in the way you meant it. I am so far from Superwoman it's laughable. Our home is loud. It is chaotic some days. There are battles of the will that I would swear leave more casualties than some of history's epic battles. I lose my temper - and my mind. I cry. I give up. I make beautiful plans that get dashed to pieces. I say things I have to apologize for. I make mistakes. Tons of them. In short, I'm human.

My kids are kids. They're smart kids. Smart enough to have their own opinions on e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. and be willing to fight for them. Smart enough to be amazing problem solvers and show you a far better way of doing whatever it is you've asked them to do than the way you've asked them to do it. They're active kids. They run and play and are loud and would far rather be doing anything than chores or the small amount of "sit-down" work I require of them. They throw temper tantrums. They disobey. They break things. They hurt each others' feelings; they hurt MY feelings. Some days they'd rather spend an hour on their bed being disciplined because they KNOW I'm being unjust and they would rather lose the day than admit they messed up. In short, they're human.

But, you see, there's good in us, too. We love each other. We work through the fighting days and hope for a better day tomorrow. Sometimes we do just call it quits on pushing the schoolwork because it's not worth the battle that day. There is much joy, laughter, playfulness, compassion, helpfulness, and love in our home. But it is not seamless perfection. I tried to live up to that for a lot of years; I refuse to try to saddle my kids with that expectation and would prefer that you disabuse yourself of it, too. We're family. We're human. We've chosen this. Yes, it's hard. Yes, it requires persistence. But because this is what is right for our family, it's worth working through all the messiness that it is in order to have the beauty that it is, too. Just as you have chosen what you are doing. Nursing and parenting in your context is hard. It requires persistence. But you have chosen it for yourself and your families, deciding that it's worth the work and messiness to have its own unique beauty. We're really not so very different.

So, from a grateful patient of several other wonderful people today,
Thank you for your choices. You're pretty amazing, yourselves.

Ponderable...

2011-08-14T16:19:00.004-04:00

The Winds of Fate
One ship drives east and another drives west,
With the self-same winds that blow,
'Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
That tell them the way to go.
Like the winds of the sea are the winds of fate,
As we voyage along through life,
'Tis the set of the soul
That decides its goal
And not the calm or the strife.
-Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2011-08-04T19:50:00.003-04:00

The conversation in our home this morning as the kids waited for breakfast:

Michael: so...God made us...but how did he get our ribs to wrap around our bodies? They're hard. How did he get them to bend like that?

Me: **insert brief explanation of DNA chains that contain codes of instructions for the cells as they develop to grow in exactly the way God wants them to grow to create the parts of the body**

Michael: There are directions for all of my cells?

Me: Yes.

Michael: Well, then, why did God give my cells directions so that I would have autism?

**crickets chirping**

Reese, without missing a beat and with a "well, duh" tone of voice: Because He wanted you to be unique!

I love my kids.

My Brain...

2011-07-17T02:11:00.003-04:00

is so very tired. I've got very little to say. Between hormone shifting that's leaving me sleepless, kids who have no respect for the fact that if you stay up all night you should really be allowed to sleep all day, having a *major* curveball of a decision thrown at us that had to be decided in a matter of days, and general familial stress, there's no room left to form coherent thoughts for blogging.

So. I will share with you the joy and sentimentality of the link that my brother made sure that my niece would pass on just for me. It was his first communication with me after he landed in Qatar last night. Get your tissues ready.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTjx-9GYy1A&sns=fb

Just can't see the screen for the tears, can you?
I love my big brother and our strange and wonderful relationship.

Excuse Me? I Need a Tour Guide for Switzerland.

2011-06-21T01:17:00.004-04:00

I don't talk about it much. I deal with it daily. Some days better than others. But it's always there in the background, threatening to derail the day in an instant. I hate labels. I hate boxing people in. I hate narrowing who a person can be down to a set of predictable or probable behaviors. And yet...

It is time I look it in the face. Call it what it is. Use the labels as tools to find partners who can come alongside us and help unlock some of the secrets to being parents who give their kids the very best chance of becoming who they were created to be. I have a son with autism. More exactly, I have a son who has been diagnosed with high-functioning autism and secondary attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder. My brilliant, sweet, snuggly, orderly, just-so, complex-subject grasping child is autistic. EVEN on days when he *appears* to be typical, he is not. Even though he is highly intelligent and has no comorbid physical problems, his brain still functions in ways that need extra help, patience, accommodation, and work in certain areas. And I will never know what or when that will happen until it blindsides both of us in a mass of frustration and tantrumming.

He has always just been "Michael" to me. The one who needs a little extra time adjusting to things. The one who will come out from under the table when he's ready. The one who draws pictures of houses as though from an architectural birds-eye layout view rather than from the front elevation box-with-a-triangle-on-top view "typical" kids see. The one who shocked us by verbally showing us he knew math skills and reading skills we had never directly taught, just because he had picked them up in listening to others' lessons. The one with the infectious laugh and the killer brown eyes. The one who, despite social integration deficiencies, draws big hearts with the names of each family member inside with ink on his legs because he tattoos himself with what he cares about. The one who will probably never ever wear a pair of pants without an elastic waistline and for whom we dare not purchase clothes unless he has tried them on in the store - twice. The one who sometimes plays happily with new kids at the pool and other times hides in a corner because there's too many new people around. The one who we have seen so much progress with, but who is becoming more frustrated with his own limitations as he becomes more personally aware of them. My third son.

I have always avoided the label because of the limits it seems to impose. My son is who he is; he is not defined by a condition (process? delay? imbalance? genetic anomaly? what-is-it?!). But as I picked up a book recently and read, I wept. Somebody else gets it. Completely. Whatever this enigmatic thing called high-functioning autism is, it does impact how he interacts with the world around him. It is *part* of who he is. And we're along for the ride. Because of somebody else's words, I was able to put words to how I have felt. Since about the time Michael was 3 years old, it was obvious. By the time he was 6, it was official. We now lived in Switzerland. And Switzerland is confusing; very often, it is lonely and overwhelming.

The article quoted in the *book: linked here.
The *paragraph that followed that had me bawling:

"Yet, high-functioning autism isn't quite the Holland of "regular" autism. There are some real strengths, and there are traces of autism, but how much? There's a reluctance of professionals to diagnose anything. It's perhaps like being in Switzerland - a little bit of Italy, and closer to Holland than some of the other people in Italy, but not so close that you feel welcomed by the Dutch. Enough to see the abyss, but not find the support. Switzerland can be very confusing.... High-functioning autism is something our children have, as well as a characteristic of who they are... It's a really fine line between 'quirky' and 'problematic.' A gap between 'talented' and 'not quite right.' Somewhere between 'cute' and 'hmmmmm.' "

*Children with High-Functioning Autism: a parent's guide by Claire E. Hughes-Lynch, Ph.D

Be Still

2011-06-02T22:20:00.002-04:00

I've tried writing this post 3 times now. I find that, unlike many of my blogging friends, I am simply not able to put into words the path I am travelling *as I am travelling it.* I'm much more of a reflecting-back-on-what-was-learned type. Not really going to spend a lot of brain power deciding whether thats good/bad/indifferent; it is what it is. So. Suffice it to say that I'm travelling a path right now that is not easy.

Today, though, I had a respite. Tangible encouragement. And while I'm not one given to mysticism or symbolism, I am learning to look for God in His creation and finding that it is true; He's placed Himeself there if we only take time to look.

We spent the day taking a much-needed break from "normal life" at a local springs. It was beautiful. Sunny skies, crystal water, rustling trees as they stirred in the gentle breeze; perfection. Stepping into the water was an incremental process. Somehow, I'd expected 72 degrees to feel warmer than that. Just after I took the final plunge and found myself up to my neck in cold, I took a deep breath, relaxed, found my footing on the sandy bottom of the lake, and turned to talk to my hubby...and stopped my call short, changing to an amazed whisper. Sitting on my right shoulder was a perfect little dragonfly. Glistening lacework wings, irridescent blue body, just sitting there gazing at me. We stood there, watching each other.

I began consciously controlling my breath so as not to disturb him with a gust. My kids were gently waved over to marvel at this beautiful creature but warned off of getting too close. Expecting him to fly away any moment, I stood. And waited. And watched... The longer he sat there, the more entranced with him I became. If I turned my body, he gently pivoted around to remain in exactly the same orientation to his surroundings as when he first landed. I began to wonder: is he trying to watch something? keep the wind in a certain location? warm himself just so in the sunlight? does he just want to sit and watch *me*? I studied. He sat. It was amazing. Perfectly formed wings, precision movements, radiant coloring. Magical. And so very still. He sat with me and allowed me to wonder at him for almost half an hour. Never have I experienced anything like that.

And all I could think was: Be still and know that I am God. In the middle of this tumultuous path, stop. Look. See ME. See My beauty. See My precision. See My patience. See the care I take in even my smallest creative endeavors. Pay attention. And learn to be still. You're liable to find yourself breathless with awe at what I am doing. Oh, and by the way, I want to sit with you, too. You are worth MY time as well, child.

I needed to hear that today.

Mixed Emotions...

2011-05-02T20:19:00.002-04:00

It has been an emotional day. For me. For the vast majority of our country. An objective so long sought has been accomplished. What concerns me most is the reaction I have seen to it. It worries me - what it says about our country. About the condition of our hearts. About the clarity of our minds. Whether we realize what we are saying at all...

Here is a brief summation of the ponderings of my heart today.

*Am I deeply grateful to our military for completing this mission objective? Absolutely.
*Do I fully agree that it had to be accomplished? Yes again.
*Do I think it solves everything? No.
*Do I think there will be political advantage taken? Of course. By both sides.
*Does it terrify me how many "hope he had full magazines emptied into him" or "wish I could've seen his eyes" kind of hateful, pleasure-in-death statements worthy of an Osama Bin Laden type person I have seen? YES!!
*Am I sickened that it seems that both people who can't stand Bush and people who can't stand Obama are jumping on the blame bandwagons for why it didn't happen sooner or how the President's words were self-glorifying or not perfectly crafted? Yep. This should be GOOD news for all of us. And we should all be able to admit that no one man of any political stripe was able to accomplish this on his own.

I dunno. The whole thing makes me sad. It's like what should be a common goal reached has become yet another point over which to bicker. And as sick as the man was, as worthy of the end to which he was brought, as necessary for moving forward as his death was both security-wise and on the world political stage, I cannot find it in myself to be HAPPY that it came to this or to party over the probability that he is tormented in hell. I am proud of the tenacity and resolve of our country's intelligence and military communities to accomplish the task that was laid at their door. I am thankful that a President who entered office so arrogant as to dismiss the value of Gitmo chose to humble himself, albeit quietly, and continue to allow his military commanders to do their jobs and accomplish the mission with which they had been tasked. I appreciate the sacrifices made by so many and the message that this surgical mission sends to the world. I am sympathetic with the families who have seen justice served to the murderer of their loved ones. But I can't be jubilant over something so somber. Over the end of a life that God created - and loved - because that life chose to live it apart from his Creator and spread sin's devastating consequences over so wide a field.

War sucks. And even the victor pays a high price. It makes me wonder if this is part of what Jesus saw when He wept over clueless Jerusalem...

Woooohoooo!!!

2011-03-15T13:03:00.001-04:00

This about says it all:

http://jeremiah18-4.blogspot.com/2011/03/news.html

My Daddy never ceases to amaze me.

The Race...

2011-03-01T21:44:00.005-05:00

I've been a negligent blogger. Especially when you consider that I've strung y'all along in suspense over this whole "will the crazy 38-year-old be able to complete a half marathon" issue! So?...
Do ya wanna know?...
Since it's a full two days after the event?...

The answer is a resounding YES! I was able to finish. But not only did I finish, I learned so much about enduring, overcoming, and truly finishing *well*.

Three weeks and three days before the race (coincidentally, about the same time I fell off the edge of the blog world) I had a little mishap. While riding my scooter to work, a gentleman in a greater hurry than myself ran a red light as I was beginning a left-turn into my business parking lot. I didn't make it to the lot. I had a split second to decide whether to gun it and beat him (not realistic), keep going and get hit (not attractive), or slam on brakes on fog-wet pavement and eat it (sounds good to me!). I went down on my left side with my arm Supermanned (yep. it's a perfectly good descriptor) out in front of me. He kept going; don't think he ever saw me. The bike wasn't scratched, my clothes weren't torn, but my shoulder kinda wouldn't move. Hm. That was interesting. So, I did what any woman with my bloodline of stubbornness would do: picked up the bike, used my right arm to set my left one on the handlebars, rode it the rest of the way in, parked it, then went in and called my hubby to come pick me up because my arm wouldn't work. Turns out I messed up my rotator cuff pretty badly and, over the next several days, I discovered that my muscles were pretty bruised and unhappy about the trauma of hitting the ground that hard. Race training? Not happening. Three weeks and three days.

Restlessness? Frustration? Anger? Yep. Dealt with all those things. Fear of letting people down? Fear of letting MYSELF down? Affirmative. Complete aggravation at watching *nobody* in the house fold my laundry the right way? Why, no! Nobody with one good arm could be that ungrateful, could they?

It was a L.O.N.G. two weeks before I was physically strong enough to try to train again. And it was exactly one week before race day. Ugh. Confidence level rock bottom. That first run didn't help it any. Tired, creeping pace, cramping muscles...those two weeks took a toll. It was the first time I really doubted that I could finish this thing. So I went home, cried on Dan's shoulder, and ate ice cream.

And got back up again after a day of rest and tried it again. And ran a full 5k at pace. That day felt like I HAD run the half-marathon... and won.

The rest of the week was a little nutty with finalizing my costume, making sure we had the family logistics figured out for race day, checking in and getting final race instructions, a little trip to the ER with my mom the day before the race...Oh? You caught that? Yep. Day before the race. Dad and Mom came into town to cheer me on. And the stinkin' road came up and took a swipe at my Mom, too. Me and asphalt don't have a good relationship right now. After her tumble from a curb, Mom ended up with a fracture in her hand and a really painful upper lip after using her nose/lip to catch herself. Ouch.

But y'know what she did? She got up at 4am and came out to cheer me on. Smiling. Not complaining even though I know she hadn't slept much and was in pain. Go, Mom. If I ever need an example of endurance and grace, I don't have to look far.

And so, I ran. Thirteen point one miles at an average pace of 14.74 minutes per mile. A better pace than I averaged in training. My first three miles were at a pace of 10 minutes each. Carried on angels' wings as one of my dear friends was predicting. And along the way I met so many other people running for their causes. Encouraging each other. Cheering for those running faster and drawing inspiration from that rather than being jealous or grudging. Graciously yielding to stronger runners. Teams running together whose captians FINISHED their own race, then came back to re-run the final miles with their slower teammates. Beautiful women of all ages struggling through the course together but enjoying every minute in our girly get-ups. Laughing at our own weak places, stopping for a moment to stretch, then carrying on. And God even put a family in my path who read the wondercape and picked up their pace just to talk to me about Daniel, Parker, and Josslyn. Because their son was born with Down Syndrome and the kids' story brought them to tears and gained another prayer warrior on the Carlins' side.

In the end? I fought the fight. I finished the race. I kept the faith.
And God was faithful.

I'm trusting Him to be faithful in the Carlins' race to bring those sweeties home, too. I don't think He'll let me down.

Intimate Relationship

2011-01-23T10:44:00.004-05:00

I've been struggling with how to word this post for over a week now. Do I present the conversation and just leave you to draw your own conclusions? Do I elaborate on all of the ponderings of my heart that have occurred since this conversation? Is this even as mind-blowing to anyone else?

Because it is mind-blowing to me. In an utterly simple, natural, deeply intimate moment, I was gripped to the core of my being. By the faith of a child. Could it be so truly simple? Yes. It is. And in our adulthood and desire for knowledge and rightness we cloud and complicate the clear simplicity. And we lose so much because of it. We gain prestige, propriety, position... and we lose intimacy.

Let me share the short, sweet conversation with you. It happened as our family was sitting down to eat dinner together. Long ago, we gave up the standard "join hands 'round the table to give thanks before we partake;" not because we aren't thankful, but because it had been reduced to a religious act with little real meaning. Nobody really wanted to be the one called out to come up with the right words to say and sound all spiritual. Our gratitude didn't necessitate a formalized expression at a given moment and, in fact, that formalization is really difficult when you're wrestling four kids, two adults, a dog that's tall enough to try to eat off your plate as you bow your heads and close your eyes... so we lost the ritual that didn't work for us. Every now and then, one of the kids will ask to pray at that moment and we readily agree. Because we encourage them to talk to God anytime and anywhere they so choose; it is a relationship, after all, not a ritual. It doesn't require well-planned words or eloquent phrases voiced or written at designated points in time. That's what I believe. But it's hard to remember sometimes when you're afraid of seeming foolish (or unspiritual among those who do practice this ritual) or when you are asked to voice someone else's prayer and don't want to mess it up. See what I mean? We complicate simple communication.

This time was so simple, though, that it took my breath away. Nobody asked for a moment of prayer together. One of my kids just prayed. Without everyone having to stop and participate. Just like he was having a conversation with someone who was *right there* and who was intimately involved in our dinner service. I generally fix portioned plates at the kitchen counter and then place them on the table as there is little room for large dishes of food once all of us gather around to eat. As I placed the plate in front of Michael (my 7 year old), he looked up at me and said, "Thanks, Mom." Then, as he dug in his fork to gather his first bite, he very naturally said, "And thanks, God. It looks good."

Simple. Natural. Intimate.

Generation/Vocabulary Gap

2011-01-22T18:51:00.003-05:00

Nicole (my 5 year old daughter) came into my room today and mumbled something unintelligible.

Me: What you talkin' about, Willis?

Nicole: Who is Willis?

Me: It's just a quote from an old show, sweetie. What did you need?

Nicole: I am NOT a quote! ... whatever that is...

Milestones and AHA! Moments

2011-01-16T09:33:00.002-05:00

This morning was huge for me. It was time, according to my training schedule, for me to run a 5K. No biggie, you say? You've been running up to 6 miles, you say? Well, you'd be right. Sort of.

Until now, my training schedule has called for ever longer distances, but has not pushed a required pace. I have personally imposed a 15-min mile minimum to be sure I can handle the requirement for my race, but have given myself plenty of slack to walk rather than run the mileage. Which is fine, as my trainer calls for a run/walk system to increase endurance. But today was different. Today was the day to test the limits of that endurance.

The result? The **first time** I have run an entire 5k with only (3) 30-second walking breaks. Woohoo!!! And my pace? A 13-minute mile! Double woohoo!!! I'm so excited to see what God is building into my body and praying to see Him use this for His glory.

So...what's the AHA? It was so striking that I literally started laughing in the weight room. Sure am glad nobody was there; I would've had to explain myself. I was thinking, at about the 2k mark that this was surprisingly easy. That the verse in Isaiah held some truth..."they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." How God Himself was carrying me through this running thing and increasing my endurance. How funny it was that on the other side of the wall from me, the community worship service was happening and that there, in the weight room, on my little treadmill, a worship service was happening, too... And then it hit me. The context of that verse.

"Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and His understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who WAIT ON THE LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:28-31

Have I ever mentioned that I'm one of His kids that seem to need object lessons to get it? Hm. Hilarious laughter. Okay, Dad. I get it.

I'm Listening. Oh, How You Speak...

2011-01-08T21:54:00.006-05:00

The race registration fee will *not* be waived? ... Well...Then... Um... *That* didn't work out like I figured it would. And it was such a great idea, too! And other people have done it for their charities! What gives, God? Now this thing of racing to bring Daniel home has gone from weight on my heart to seriously burning fire in my spirit. I'm not going to have to watch this fall apart, am I? You wouldn't DO that! Your handprints are all over the whole thing up 'til now... oh. um. yeah. except for that little frantic emailing thing.

Okay. I'm listening. What's YOUR plan, Lord? ...

Lord?...

Oh. I get it. Wait. Sigh. Okay. I'll wait. I'll keep training, but I'll wait for You to provide. You know I stink at that, right? Just makin' sure.

Y'know, I don't recall ever being able to make the statement that a huge corporate entity was undeniably used to fulfill God's plan. He sure uses some crazy places to bring His plans about. Maybe so that there is no human explanation for what He does because #1: we'd never come up with the idea in the first place, and #2: none of us could coordinate the insane number of details that He does to come together seamlessly. He gets all the glory when we back off of our plans and let Him run with HIS! That's exactly what happened. God, in concert with the Walt Disney Corporation and Cigna Health Insurance provided the funds that have allowed me to run for Daniel. Go figure.

Each year, around the end of the year, capitalizing on the whole New Year's resolution trend, Disney and Cigna get together to organize a healthy living expo for Cast Members. The companies have a vested interest in the Cast choosing healthy lifestyles as it costs the company far less money to insure healthy individuals. This year, however, they added a big incentive. For each of 3 activities that any Cast Member ***AND THEIR SPOUSE*** completed, the company would offer a cash bonus. Really? Cash in hand? Just for filling out a health survey, completing a biometric screening, and meeting a range of body mass index? Seriously? Dan completed his activities... AND SO DID I!! God used my husband's employer and the health standing of my own body that had been working out in preparation for the race to provide the funds to enter the race. Tell me that anyone else could've arranged that? I didn't think so.

And that is how, on December 18, 2010, I was able to register for the Disney Princess Half Marathon on behalf of Daniel, thereby getting this 38-year-old body of mine involved in more intense training than it has ever undergone. God has used the internet, friends hundreds of miles apart, corporate entities that have no personal knowledge of this situation at all, and who knows how many other prayer warriors with a burden for the defenseless, to bring about another step toward the rescue of a sweet little boy. If you'll hop on over to Jessica Carlin's site, you can follow up on the continuing story of Daniel...and now, of the two others that God has led the Carlins to adopt: Parker and Josslyn.

I continue to train. Friends and family continue to pray. God has opened doors for me to place donation canisters in several businesses here in my area to contribute to the financial need involved in rescuing these precious little ones from an institution and showing them the love of God through the love of a family. That Reece's Rainbow link up at the top right of this site is a direct link to the Carlin's grant account if you'd like to contribute. This story is far from over. When I run on February 27, it will still stretch out ahead of all involved. When the Carlin family is whole and together, the story will continue to unfold. Because it is not just my story, not just the Carlin's story, not just Daniel's or any of the ones who have become involved. This is God's story of His love and redemption for *every* life He has created. And it's bigger than we ever imagined.

W.A.I.T. Get It? Good.

2011-01-08T21:38:00.002-05:00

As you can imagine, after launching that email on its way to the race organizers, believing that I had seen and grasped God's answer to my money problem in entering the race and thereby raising money for Daniel, I fully expected to recieve an affirmative answer within short order. This was, after all, God's doing, right? Well...kinda.

He *did* lead me to put 2 and 2 together and miraculously come up with 4. He took my desire to become more fully myself and my desire to be his hands and feet to Daniel and gave me a flash of insight into how those two things could entwine to accomplish His purposes. But HE didn't really do the providing the funds through the waiver; that was MY idea. I researched. I planned. I saw. I was wrong. Not only did I discover this, but He made me WAIT to discover it. I suppose He knows that this hard-headed daughter of His needs some very visual lessons to get it sometimes.

I didn't hear back from the race committee the next day. Or the next. I don't know what these people were doing, but it sure wasn't answering email. Like anything was more important than giving me the tangible go-ahead to pursue my plan! Sheesh! While I waited for their reply, I continued to watch the race enrollment climb. It was unexpected to me. The race isn't until the end of February, so I figured that registration would not really get going until a month out. Wrong again. By mid-November, it was at 55% full. The next week, it was at 65% full. And still I had heard nothing. Time was running out and I had NO idea how to pay for registration except by the waiver.

Yes, I imagine God was having himself a healthy laugh at my expense about then. Not in a nasty way, but you know how you watch your kiddos walk right into a mess of their own making and you shake your head and chuckle before you go rescue them? Yeah. Like that. Because on November 24, I got my answer. Sorry, but the race entry fees themselves are being donated to the Children's Lymphoma Society. We're not waiving them for anyone.

But wait!! What about MY PLAN??!!

Yes, Ma'am.

2011-01-08T14:47:00.002-05:00

I am writing this post in obedience and respect to my mother. I have been properly rebuked for leaving the last post "too short and with too much left unsaid." So... here ya go, Mom! A few more of those middle pieces now that we have the puzzle's outline finished! :D

I've already mentioned that I hate waiting. Usually, the way I get myself through it is by doing something: research, thought, making potential plans for what to do when the waiting ends, figuring out ways around the waiting... anything to occupy the time and make myself feel like there's maybe a *little* something I can do. I rarely wait quietly. Not proud of it, and I've actually grown some here, but it is what it is. This time was no different. I bought running shoes and researched training techniques. I selected a training schedule and set out on it. I researched fundraising options. I analyzed my area of influence and thought of how I could leverage it to help provide for Daniel. None of it came to anything.

Then...
One day as Daniel and the Princess Half Marathon were doing their little tango in my brain, I stopped by a blog that I frequent. It's over there in my sidebar: the Livesay [Haiti] one. The Livesay family are missionaries in Haiti, adoptive parents, and all-around neato people. Oh, and Tara runs. Like, marathons. Like, to raise money for stuff like feeding/clothing/providing medical care for mothers and children and building homes in post-earthquake Haiti. Her daughter even recently completed a half marathon for that purpose (and, I gather, has no desire to attempt that again. Encouraging.)I've seen their ChipIn's multiple times. But this time I really noticed it and suddenly Daniel and the Half Marathon stopped dancing and turned to stare me in the face right alongside that little ChipIn meter. What? Could TWO of the desires of my heart be met in one fell swoop?

You know what I did next, right? Well, after I quit jumping up and down because I finally saw what it was that I could do. And after praising God for putting it all together and blessing my waiting (oops, thought that was over at that point. WRONG!). Well, I did paragraph two of this post all over again. Research, contact, research some more. I wrote to Tara Livesay for advice on how to fundraise, I read all about running for charity, I shared my excitement with a friend who has been praying for Daniel and who I knew would lift me up in this. And then, in my research, I FOUND IT! The answer to the big money question for the race entry fee:

Many race organizers will waive the fee for those runners who are running for charity! Woohoo!! I fired off an email request to the organizers at Disney and anxiously awaited their confirmation reply!

***Sorry, Mom, I'm about to do it to you again. But y'all know this isn't the end, right? You see what just happened there? I got *part* of an answer and then, quite literally, ran with it. I quit waiting. Hm. Wonder how that worked out for me?

More Pieces of the Puzzle

2011-01-07T17:57:00.002-05:00

Time for part two of the ongoing "how'd I get my 38-year-old body involved in a half-marathon, anyway" saga!

So, there I was. The weight of wanting to do something for sweet Daniel heavy on my heart. Every now and then I'd sit and try to figure out what I could do, how I could cut our slim budget to give, what talents I had that could be used to raise money. Consistently, I drew a blank. The answer always seemed to be "Wait. I'll show you. Later." This is where you need to know that I HATE WAITING! I do many things well. Waiting is not one of them. I am ungracious about it. Even when I know WHO it is that's telling me to do it. I *so* relate to the persistent widow in Scripture! I'd bet that more than once, He's answered me just to get me to shut up. ;-D

While I wracked my brain for solutions, God quietly worked His plan in His time. During this waiting time I was also experiencing some personal growth in other areas. You've heard me tell my story of burying who I am for years and rediscovering myself bit by bit as I have been freed from others' expectations. Another layer of that was happening. I began to awaken to the desire to rediscover the part of me that has always loved being active and athletic. The part that enjoys a physical challenge; sweat, aching muscles, and all. I enjoy achieving a really difficult goal. It was at this juncture that I became aware of the Disney Princess Half Marathon. It's run right here in my town; at the place where my husband works. It would be a bigger physical challenge than I've ever tackled. I was drawn to it immediately.

Being me, though, I was hesitant to just jump in with both feet. I needed to hear from someone else that this was actually an achievable goal. Not for someone else, but for ME. My husband was enthusiastic (even kept the kids one night so I could get running shoes), my coworkers were encouraging, my Facebook friends told me to go for it... my eyes glowed every time I thought about it. I *really* wanted to do this. So I began to train as if I was going to. But...

As with sponsoring Daniel, there was the little matter of lack of funds. The entry fee to the race was significantly more than I could spare. *sigh* Yet another thing to which I was consistently and repeatedly drawn and which it seemed there was no way I could do anything about. Daniel and the Princess Half Marathon shared space in my heart, my brain, and my prayers. Did I mention that I *hate waiting*?...

Giddy Praise and a Few Puzzle Pieces

2010-12-22T16:31:00.005-05:00

Have y'all ever noticed that God always answers bigger than you ever *really* think He will? The Carlins began the week with $825 in their Reece's Rainbow account. It was as a result of that that I set the goal of $20,000 on my link to ChipIn; wasn't really sure that I had enough contacts to reach that goal, but wanted to stand in agreement with them as to their needs and let anyone viewing my blog know the full amount of what was needed. As of right now, their balance stands at $11,825. Seriously, God??? Eleven thousand dollars in a few days??? Thank you!!!! I don't know if all of those funds are tied to this link from my page (there are a few folks out here in blogland that have joined with the Carlins to get the word out and have posted links to Reece's Rainbow) but I am giddy that God has used whomever He has used and answered in such a big way so suddenly. The goal of $20,000 to bring Daniel home is better than half met! Can't wait to see what God does next to provide fully...

***
As for the "few puzzle pieces", the story of how I came to run for Daniel is a little winding. Kinda like my mind. I'll try to be as coherent as possible.

It all began with reading the first posting by Jessica Carlin (a friend from my days in TX) about the potential for Daniel...I was drawn to pray and to follow...and then the reality of her being "paper pregnant." It may sound overly dramatic, but I think at that moment I could sympathize with what Elizabeth may have felt when John leapt in her womb. My heart literally skipped a couple of beats. My breath came quickly...the Spirit was moving. Immediately I felt tied to this story; as though there was something I was meant to do to help in the working out of whatever God had in store for this little guy. There was a certainty in my heart that *this was right*; that Daniel *is* the Carlin's son...and that I needed to do something about it.

But what??

I am a mom of 4, a wife of a Disney cast member, a part-time prep cook at Chik-Fil-A, a cash-only RV dweller who survived a recent bankruptcy. Oh, and did I mention that I'm states away from the Carlins? What in the world could I possibly do? I didn't have much but made a small contribution to their adoption fund...all the while feeling that there was something more. Something more, something more, but my mind couldn't seek out what that was.

So I waited and prayed and followed and commented and kept feeling that incessant "something more"...

Wait.Now Go.

2010-12-18T22:42:00.005-05:00

Red Light. Wait. Wait. Wait.

I really am not very good at that word. I don't like hearing it. I don't like doing it. I understand that it is necessary. I get it that rushing ahead with my own ideas, plans, energies is just not productive. I have personal experience with the destruction that my haste can bring and the beyond-anything-I-could-imagine things that can happen when I just stop and wait. It still makes me want to stomp my feet and throw a hissy fit.

Green Light. Go. No, really. Go. Now. RUN!!!

Until I'm in the middle of watching the things that God has hands to do when He isn't so busy having to use them untangling me from thornbushes and catching me in mid-fall from the cliffs I've hurried myself right into. (I know. His hands are never too small. But it's gotta at least make it *easier* on Him when I'm not pulling that kind of mess!) Now is one of those watching times. HE amazes me. The Good Shepherd who cares tenderly for each of His sheep. Who knows each one of us from before birth. Who has a plan to work every event in our lives together for good. And I get to see one of those awesome steps in the plan unfold. All because, with the help of some friends, I actually obeyed this time and waited.

I'll give you the short story now and use following posts to fill in the details of what God has done. He has fulfilled a desire of my heart and is using that fulfilling to help fulfill the desires in another family's hearts. Don't you love it when you *see* how we are all one body that He entwines together?

Anyone who has read my blog or been familiar with my FaceBook account has seen me mention little Daniel who is being adopted by the Carlin family. Those readers have also seen me both announce my intent to run a half-marathon *and* come to the disheartening realization that I had no funds with which to enter that half-marathon. Here's the "one body" part (and a few of the goosebumps, too!). God has made a way to pay that entry fee. He has done it by honoring the requests of a very few of His kids who laid the desires of their hearts before Him. He has done it by means that could not possibly be ascribed to anyone else's glory. He has done it so that the Carlin's ministry to Daniel of providing a home, a family, a LIFE, may be that many steps closer to reality. He has done it. And He has proven, once again, that where two or more are gathered in His name (even if our gathering place is cyberspace) HE shows up.

As of now, I have officially registered to run the Disney Princess Half Marathon on February 27, 2011. I will be running to raise funds for Daniel. The cost of adopting a special needs child internationally can be staggeringly high. The cost of the Carlin's inability to adopt over such a minor thing as money would be unthinkable. So I will run the race that has been set before me while trusting God to provide once again.

If you are compelled (I do not use this word lightly; I believe firmly in the unsilencable urging of the Holy Spirit to act and I do not ask or expect anyone to do something out of obligation or guilt) to become a part in bringing Daniel home to his adopting family, to sponsor him by sponsoring my run, please click one of the two links now visible in my sidebar. Any amount will help and 100% of what is given will go directly to the Carlin family for Daniel. The first is a Chip-In account which will accept any amount and will go to the family. Gifts given here will not be tax deductible. The other is a direct link to the Carlin family's grant account at Reece's Rainbow, the non-profit organization that is facilitating Daniel's adoption. This avenue will be able to give you the proper documentation to make your gift tax deductible.

Whether it is your part in Daniel's story to donate, to be a voice advocating by linking your blog or FaceBook account, to lift his need before the Father and wait believing that He will answer... whatever your role in this story, it is my prayer that you will play it without hesitation.

Fear. Evil. Death.

2010-10-12T17:55:00.006-04:00

It is approaching the end of October and once again, the old battle rages among those who call themselves Christian. To celebrate Halloween or to create an alternative; to speak out against any and all forms of celebration or to quietly close your doors and hide in the shadows until the evil day passes and you can once again carry on your daily life in the light.

Over the past several days, the topic has been running around in the back of my mind. Partly because a coworker's son is distressed at finding out that his family is Christian because that means, "I can't wear my Batman costume and get candy this year!" Partly because my own kids have been noticing and commenting on many of the decorations that are currently displayed, deeming some "nasty," others "stupid," and yet others "funny." The comments have afforded opportunities to talk about the difference between appropriate dress-up and glorifying evil; between demands/threats and accepting gifts; between the "whatsoever things" and those things that should not occupy our minds and hearts.

The more we have talked about these things, the more certain thoughts have worked themselves to the forefront:
"Fear not, for the Lord your God is with you..."

"For He has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, of love, and of a sound mind."

"Grave, where is your victory; Death, where is your sting?"

"Let not evil overcome you, but overcome evil with good."

and, weaving in and through it all..."This is the day which the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it."

It has all made me wonder. We debate, we argue, we study origins, we study historical context, we ennumerate changes in the holiday, we look down our noses at others who view the day differently than we... but do we ever ask how the Lord Himself views this day of His own creation? Not the celebration itself (and, really, which celebration? Halloween? Samhain? Fall Festival?), but THE DAY? He seems to have a high view of His creation. He loves it. Cares for it. Redeemed it.

And we call it unholy. Think about it. Generally speaking, THE DAY is seen as unholy. Not some of the actions that take place within it. Not some of the motivations of mens' hearts on it. THE DAY. October 31. It is unholy. Why? Why, when the Lord Himself created the day, when He went to great lengths to redeem ALL of His creation, do we say that His work does not extend to this one day? Because we have a problem with what certain people do on it? We cower in our homes, decry THE DAY from our pulpits, sequester ourselves in our churches, and pray for the day to pass and either protection or judgement to fall on those who live through it dependent upon their deeds.

We deny the power of our living God. We fear the evil that He has already overcome. We are afraid it will touch us, will somehow win the battle it has already lost if we do not hide ourselves from it. We do not counter it with good and live fully as unto our Lord on that day; we denounce any who would choose to find that which is good and lovely and dare to celebrate it on that day just because certain others choose to celebrate that which is abhorrent on the same day. We call it "softening the truth" or "imitating the World." I wonder how many other days in the calendar year that evil people celebrate evil things. Do they do it on Sundays? Saturdays? The days on which our birthdays and anniversaries fall? Should we scope it all out and make sure not to celebrate our Lord and the lives/families/gifts He has given us on those days as well?

Why, when He has clearly and explicitly commanded us to the contrary and assured us of our freedom, would we throw away the gifts of our Father and hand HIS DAY - the one HE created - over to the enemy? Why do we listen to the lies of fear, the taunting of evil, the cackling whisper of death who sneer that this is *their* day? Why do we block our ears to the joyous, jubilant voice of our Daddy who tells us that we are His and who calls us to rejoice in Him even on THIS day?

I don't get it.
Fear, Evil, Death...you've lost. Deal with it.
My Daddy and I have a playdate.

Brief Revisitation...

2010-09-01T20:57:00.005-04:00

***Okay, let's be honest. This is me. It's a not-so-brief revisitation.

Way back when, I was struggling with finding the good in life and seeing the beautiful that God has placed all around me. In an effort to overcome my depression and recover the joy that I had allowed to be stolen, I made a conscious effort to fix my eyes on the Author and Finisher of my faith and discover Him in whatever occurred. He does say that He is with me wherever I go, after all.

Oh, my, has He been faithful. He says that if we seek Him, we will find Him. He doesn't want to hide; He desires relationship with us so much that He makes Himself evident in everything His hand touches (which is, well, *everything* so He's kinda hard to miss...except to eyes fixed on their own host rather than their Creator.)

In recent days, I have become a bit wrapped up in school year planning, football practices, job stuff, keeping the household running... just the normal lifetime of a busy family. And I have neglected to make that disciplined effort to seek Him in the day-to-day; to stand in awe of Him in the little things. It is amazing how quickly we can become mired in the muck and drawn into exhaustion and frustration when we forget to be disciplined. So, for just a moment, join me as I regroup, refocus, and remember my First Love. He's worth remembering.

***Today, the 4 kids and I all went to an art class at Hollywood Studios. ALL FOUR were willing to sit at a light table. All four listened to the instructions and diligently followed them to the best of their abilities. When my autistic son became overwhelmed and felt that the instructions were coming too fast and he couldn't process them quickly enough, ***he did not tear the paper, scream in frustration, run out of the room*** He quietly put down his pencil, sat at my feet, and waited until the class was over. He wasn't happy with his product, but he listened - and seemed to have it sink in - that I was SO PROUD of him for both getting as far as he did and handling his frustration the way he did. I now have 4 precious drawings of Sorcerer Mickey and one unforgettable glimpse into how pleased my heavenly Daddy must be when each of His kids makes a small step or follows a few instructions, however messy the resulting product may be.

***Recently, a friend had a link to a post about how much our Daddy wants to see His girls twirl and dance with pure joy before Him. It hurt to read that. Because just a few days before, our family had been in a position to allow our kids to dance with abandon; it was an appropriate place, the music was happy, the joy and playfulness was all around us...and our kids sat. Unsure of what to do. Unwilling to look foolish. Unable to get past outward appearances and let their joy overflow into outward expression. O my. Have we been so concerned with proper behavior, have we pushed them so hard to "control yourself" or "be still" or "respect others by keeping the noise down" that we have made them self-conscious? Even in a venue where jumping for joy is to be desired and encouraged?? Ouch. How our Daddy must weep when He sees us rein ourselves in for the sake of keeping up appearances. But what joy it must bring Him when we refuse to let the opinion of others interfere with our enjoyment of Him and the wonderful things He gives us. The simple things: life, music, sunshine, rain, friendship, family, new experiences, delicious food, captivating animals, beautiful flowers, fulfilling work, meaningful conversation, creativity, play, the list goes on forever. Should not our joy AND our dance?!

Thanks, Daddy, for so many of the "whatsoever things" (check out this post for an explanation). Please help me remember to keep seeking You.

Breathe In...Breathe Out...

2010-08-08T13:21:00.013-04:00

Aaaahhh...doesn't that feel better?

It's been one of those weeks. One of those months, really. Living life at break-neck speed and not necessarily handling the stress well. Most of the causes of the speed have been wonderful blessings: preparing for an awesome new job position for hubby, the return of football season for Mr. 14, purchasing a new scooter for job commuting, gutting storage areas, decluttering, rearranging furniture, getting organized for schooling, tons of research because we now have a direction with our 6-yr-old's autism diagnosis...lots of good stuff happening in our lives. Just stressful.

Some of the craziness has been not-so-good: family members and coworkers going through some tough times that weigh heavily on our hearts, me personally dealing with some wonderful shifts in my hormones that seem to be alerting me that my forties are fast approaching, some parenting challenges...not such fun but not dramatically horrible, either.

It has all reached a tipping point this week, though. You know that feeling that you've somehow reverted to your teen self and all that hormone-driven frustration/anger/self-pity makes you think your head is going to explode? (please tell me you know that feeling...I'm not the only hormone-crazed thirty-something out here, am I?) Thankfully, I have the benefit of age now and understand rationally that it's really not all that bad. In fact, my life is quite amazing. I just find myself thinking that maybe it would be even easier if other people weren't involved! ;)

So, rather than remove myself from those people or remove those people from the planet, I took some time to smell the roses today.

Well...not really the roses. More like the native flora and fauna of Florida. And you know what I found? I remembered that this is the place that the peace that passes all understanding is most felt. By me, anyway. The quiet rippling of a creek, the graceful dive of a seagull or pelican, the perfect artistic blend of colors and textures in the greenery and grasses...all of it carries the very essence of peace and oneness with my Creator. It is almost tangible and I find myself unconsciously breathing deeply the scent of tranquility.

This is my backyard.

I may not have material possessions, I may not have monetary wealth, I may not have status or prestige, I may not have perfect children or be in perfect control of my own self at all times...but I am blessed. In fact, in many ways because I lack some of those things, I am blessed. One step out of my door and I am graced with this. Beauty created for my eyes to behold, lovingly placed here by my Creator for my sustenance. It is not just water for drinking and soil in which to grow food, but sustenance for my spirit as well.

Quiet in the midst of noise, tranquility when I'm surrounded by busy-ness. The simple pleasure of space in which to breathe...

Grace - Marvelous Grace

2010-06-02T22:38:00.004-04:00

Marvelous grace of our loving Lord,
Grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt!
Yonder on Calvary’s mount outpoured,
There where the blood of the Lamb was spilled.

Refrain

Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that is greater than all our sin.

Sin and despair, like the sea waves cold,
Threaten the soul with infinite loss;
Grace that is greater, yes, grace untold,
Points to the refuge, the mighty cross.

Refrain

Dark is the stain that we cannot hide.
What can we do to wash it away?
Look! There is flowing a crimson tide,
Brighter than snow you may be today.

Refrain

Marvelous, infinite, matchless grace,
Freely bestowed on all who believe!
You that are longing to see His face,
Will you this moment His grace receive?

Words: Julia H. Johnston, in Hymns Tried and True (Chicago, Illinois: The Bible Institute Colportage Association, 1911), number 2.

Music: Daniel B. Towner, 1910

**************
I have no idea how many times I mouthed the words to this hymn in my childhood years. Somehow, I always thought of it as talking about the moment of choosing to follow Jesus; what Baptist circles call the moment of salvation. A singular moment in time when a choice is made that determines an eternal future of forgiveness for everything past, present, future that I may mess up.

More and more as I walk with Him, I am beginning to see that choice, that moment of receiving His grace, as something that happens multiple times a day. Will I believe that His grace obliterates my sin? My guilt? My despair? Do I choose to acknowledge the truth that I *cannot* hide my dark stain...and that it is okay because He has washed it away? Not in some theoretical, I-know-that-is-how-He-has-arranged-my-eternity kind of understanding. Rather, in a practical, daily-living-in-freedom-and-abundance kind of understanding. Do I believe that *this* guilt, *this* stain, *this* despair, *this* shortfall - the one staring me in the face that I cannot deny and am loathe to admit - THIS ONE IN THIS MOMENT can be expunged from my record, will be expunged, if only I will choose to receive His grace? Now? Not at some past moment, not in some glorious prearranged future, but right now. As I follow Him. As I walk in relationship with Him. Now.

Will I THIS MOMENT His grace receive?

Melodramatic

2010-06-01T15:45:00.004-04:00

How I feel today just feels so melodramatic. I know my life is basically good. I know my family is blessed in a thousand ways. I know that I have personally grown so much and am so thankful for that. And yet...

Today began with bickering kids. Then, I noticed a message on my phone. From my employer. Wondering where I was today... Today? I'm off on Tuesdays. Except for last week when I specifically asked for my day off to be switched to accommodate a doctor's appointment. But that was an exception to the rule. Except that my manager wasn't sure of that and scheduled me identically this week and I failed to notice when the schedule was posted. And, so... the message on my phone that I didn't notice until my shift was almost over.

It is a small thing. A mistake and oversight anyone could have made. A miscommunication that is forgivable. I know this. In fact, my manager forgave me and put me on the schedule for tomorrow as normal. So why can't I let go of it? Why do I feel so very inadequate and guilty over something I would easily forgive in someone else?

This overdeveloped sense of guilt; this feeling that mistakes are unacceptable has plagued me since childhood. A "B" was not good enough; an "A" really only counted if it was 100%; I would not try activities that I did not feel I could excel in - better to miss out than to fail. Better to look stuck up and not participate than to look the fool when I couldn't accomplish something. Better to just say no than to say yes and then wind up letting everyone down. Better to have few friends than let many people in and have them realize that I was flawed. Immensely. The weight of the world on my shoulders.

I don't know why. Maybe I feel the effect of my choices on others too strongly. Maybe I worry too much about how others view me. Maybe personal responsibility and integrity can be carried too far and leave no room for mercy and human failing. The sentiment was only strengthened by my years of life in the fishbowl of on-staff ministry. How I was viewed directly affected how my husband was viewed; better get it right. All the time.

I am struggling today. Struggling to reconcile what I know to be true with my emotions. Struggling to silence the voice that is calling me a failure and telling me that my lack of perfection is causing those with whom I work to think less of me. Struggling to live in the forgiveness that I would extend to another in my position. Balancing on the precipice of depression which I have fought so hard to overcome.

Trying so hard to remember that love covers a multitude of imperfections. Even mine.

***Edit: Thomas Alva Edison: "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work." So there, melodrama. I just found something that doesn't work. Onward to discover that which does!!

Sabbath

2010-05-30T22:54:00.003-04:00

A day of rest. A day to look at what God has made and reflect that it is, indeed, "very good."

Today was truly a Sabbath. I'm still a little shocked by it all. Does it ever amaze you when God's presence is almost tangible? When you focus on His Word and experience the power of it? It was one of those days today.

Yesterday was not. Yesterday was full of fighting. Whining. Anger. Frustration. Foiled plans. Yuk.I was NOT a happy mommy.

My wonderful husband sensed this. I think it may have had something to do with the multitude of texts he recieved from me during his workday. Or the mild meltdown he experienced over the phone. Or the twitching eyelid and pronounced, throbbing vein he encountered when I met him at the door upon his arrival home. Whatever subtle hint he picked up on, he decided that it would be wise to have some adult-only time last night. And so we did. The kids got pizza and big brother babysitting. The adults went out for a real meal and some conversation.

We talked about the insanity that had been our day. We talked about the frustration of things that KEEP happening no matter how we beg the kids to stop. We talked about how our approach to some of them just wasn't working. We talked about how maybe we had fallen into a rut of "do this now" parenting rather than creative training. And we talked about some solutions. We returned home rested, renewed, and with hope and some ideas in our heads.

This morning, the kids woke up. Some of the same old things started happening. So, some of the creative solutions were implemented. We had identified how people spoke to one another as a real issue in our house. Normal sibling rivalry has turned into controlling, demanding, manipulating, and downright meanness lately. It's driving me nuts. But this morning, rather than saying STOP IT!!!! and becoming adversarial, we got with the kids and worked out a plan. We talked *with* the kids instead of *to* them. (This used to be the case, but as more kids got added to the mix and other things happened in our lives, we just got lazy. And we've paid for that laziness.) Turns out, they don't like the constant infighting any more than we do.

Our solution? Turn it into a game. We found an appropriate verse in Proverbs to be our reminder and our guide to right speech. It is prominently featured on our bulletin board. Underneath it is a crudely drawn game board on a piece of printer paper. It is sectioned into 12 spaces - one for each hour of the day from 9am to 9pm. Each family member has his/her own game piece. For each hour that the player successfully goes with using only kind words, he/she moves forward one space. For each unkind/whiny/mean word, there is a one space backward penalty as well as an immediate 5 minute time out. Yes, adults included. Each and every player that reaches the end of the game board at the end of the day is awarded something special on the following day. We will do this for one week, then choose another verse to turn into a game.

The consensus at the end of today? Everyone loved it. The kids said it was easier to obey when it was a game; they could more easily visualize the consequences of their actions. The parents never had to raise their voices - just had to ask if the player was choosing to lose a space. The entire family is accountable to one another, and each understands that ultimately we are accountable to the God who asks us to live in unity and love. In fact, it worked so well that THE KIDS THEMSELVES were busy figuring out which issues would make good games for subsequent weeks. Obeying the first time, keeping bodies under control, taking care of toys... the suggestions were endless. I love that today was so peaceful even as we worked on something that has been so difficult to overcome in recent months.

Thank you, Lord for a Sabbath. For a day to look at the family you have given us and see that it is very good. May it continue...

Teacher? Student?

2010-04-17T22:13:00.007-04:00

Do you ever feel like God only gave you kids so that you could learn from them? They reflect us back to ourselves, say OUT LOUD the things we think so that we can really hear it, and sometimes - I am totally convinced - say the very words that God Himself puts in their mouths for us.

Recent things heard in our household:

"I don't want to say what I really think only to have my face slapped with it." Ouch. That bugs my kids as bad as it bugs me, huh? To be heard...patiently and truly heard...is a beautiful gift.

"AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH! Why do *I* have to get in trouble? He did it first!" Yep. I hear ya. Consequences rot. Especially when you were led into the behavior that earned them. However, you had a choice whether to follow. Learn to think critically and decide for yourself; casting blame is pointless. Yes, Mommy had to learn that the hard way, too.

"Why do I always do that?! I don't want to but I do!" Oh, darlin'. Lord, remind me to respond with compassion; I'm right there with you, kiddo.

"Mommy, Daddy... I love you even when I hurt you." spoken with hugs and direct eye contact. Ever disbelieve or respond harshly to that from one of your kids...only to realize you've said the same thing to God a million times?

********

Lest anyone have any doubts about why I was entrusted with these kids (not because I'm so smart or gifted but because I have so much to learn!!), allow me to enlighten you to what I discovered as I proofread this prior to posting. This post was written, start to finish, as the intro and various quotes came to mind. Assuredly, the last one listed was the one that prompted the post but the order changed in my head as I wrote and came out as you see it now.

Why is this significant? Because, as I checked for spelling errors, I found that each quote originated from a different child and they are listed in the correct birth order. This was not intentional. I honestly did not consider the mouth from which the quotes emanated; I just knew that these specific words had stuck in my heart this week. EVERY SINGLE ONE of my children has taught me something about myself, my God, and my relationship to Him and others. Thanks for the living lessons, Daddy. Help me to learn them well.

Resurrection: to make alive that which was dead

2010-04-02T12:05:00.001-04:00

Interesting conversation with the hubby this morning. We were feeling strange - for the second year in a row - because Easter is here and we are doing...nothing special. Nothing religious. No Easter service, no eggs, no baskets, nothing. And we don't feel bad about it. Then Dan told me about a conversation he had with a coworker last night.

The coworker was angry. Really, righteously indignant-type angry. He is a Christian and had to work today. On Easter Sunday. He can't go to church. His take: "It just makes me so mad. As Christians, on Easter, we're supposed to just totally focus on Jesus. And here I have to work instead of being in church and focused on what I'm supposed to focus on."

Dan's response: "I was a minister in churches for 15 years. I worked EVERY Sunday - including EVERY Easter Sunday."

It stopped the coworker in his tracks. That had never occurred to him before. And it was a reminder again to us of how differently we view our walk with Christ now. That walk is a daily, personal relationship, not just a "special dates and occasions" acquaintanceship wrapped around certain programs and activities. We *can* focus on Him and the meaning of His resurrection - and the power of it in our lives - whether we are at work, on a playground, doing laundry, herding kids, whatever. The power of the resurrection works in our lives DAILY, in and through ALL of our activities.

Some will see what I'm about to say as heresy but I know it to be truth: the fact of the matter is that the power of the resurrection is MORE evident in our lives now that we *do not* attend religous services regularly than it was when we did. Jesus is a real person in our lives, capable and willing to love us for who and where we are, having COMPLETED His redemption in our lives. We can rest in that and just be who we are meant to be. We no longer worry about doing the things we *think* He (or others who claim to know Him) requires us to do to be good enough. None of the relationship with Him rests on what we are "supposed to do." It is totally and completely about what He has already done. The resurrection is the power to heal, to rescue, to complete, to reconcile, to love. It is the power to LIVE in the freedom of knowing that reality is finished, completely accomplished. When He hung on the cross and declared "It is finished" He meant it. For all time, for all creation. It is finished. He accomplished His purpose. There is no undoing it no matter how we fail or falter. We are free to live.

Free Range vs. Fear Filled

2010-04-01T19:26:00.007-04:00

Okay, so it's been forever since I've posted. And I have a ton of things to report: new part-time job, new friends at said job, beginning to see how that whole living-your-faith-outside-the-church-organization thing is becoming a reality, great stories about the kids and the hubby... and yet... And yet I'm breaking my long silence for a rant. I'll get back to that stuff, I promise. But I have just got to vent.

When did we become a society that insulated our children, giving them a false security in the belief that if they simply follow the rules no danger will ever befall them? When did we stop realizing that LIFE, if lived properly, involves risk? That such risks are not only worth taking but are VITAL to our growth and development? That through facing risks, we learn wisdom, restraint, acceptance of failure, responsibility, tenacity, resourcefulness...any number of character traits that make life the grand adventure that it should be? To steal a favorite descriptor from a friend, when did we trade in our "Free Range Kids" for "Fear-filled What-Ifers"?

What brings this rant on? Today a 9 year old child was killed at Disney World. He was biking ON A BIKING TRAIL with his 11 year old friend. A bus passed. For whatever reason, he left the bike path, struck the side of the bus, was drawn underneath, and killed. Tragic. And the response?? The traditional "Disney is evil," mixed with tons of blame-casting in both the driver and child's direction, and then the one that infuriated me:

"WHERE WERE THE PARENTS??? I mean, come on! What were an 11 year old and 9 year old doing riding their bikes ALONE? My kids aren't even allowed in the front yard alone, nevermind riding bikes along a roadway."

What??!! Your 9 year old has not the freedom to play outdoors? Really? Do you have any concept how many children ride their bikes to school on much more dangerous streets than those at Disney's campground? Where were the parents? Probably at their campsite relaxing and thinking with joy about the freedom and fun that their kids were enjoying riding the short distance - along a clearly marked bike path - to the playground/pool area. Trusting that they had instructed the kids in proper bicycle safety (both were wearing helmets). Knowing that freedom is sometimes worth the risk. And knowing that an intelligent 4th/5th/6th grade child has the capacity to handle that amount of freedom.

Did that child make a mistake? Yes. Did it have tragic results? Yes. Was a vacation in the happiest place on earth forever marred by a horrific accident? Yes. Is it worth stripping children of freedom in order to make sure nothing bad ever happens? NO!! (btw, it wouldn't work anyway...planes fall into living rooms, cars crash through storefronts, fires break out, falls happen, heck I found a scorpion poised on the shoulder of a shirt in the closet once...the belief that absolute safety exists is a ridiculous lie in itself.)

Let's teach our children that bad things *can* happen, whether we are in our homes, on the streets, in a theme park, wherever. Not that they should be AFRAID of everyone and everything but that they should learn to be observant and make wise choices. Let's teach them to overcome bad things so that they can have confidence in facing adversity as they grow older. Let's teach them that while there are some things for which a specific person or event is to blame, it is never worthwhile to spend our time casting that blame; this just embitters and paralyzes us and makes us incapable of enjoying the beauty in life. Let's teach them that they are capable of making the wise choices, give them opportunities to do so, and be there to help them put the pieces back together when they fail. And if, in doing so, they fail in a manner that causes them harm, our hearts may break, but we will know that they lived a life worth living. A life not paralyzed by fear of the what-ifs. A life basking in the beauty and joys of experiencing life to the full rather than sitting indoors wondering what boogie man lurked just outside the door.

Okay, I'm done. But if anyone asks you WHERE were my kids' parents when they break their leg jumping into the creek behind our house, just know that I've taught them the dangers, stayed with them for several creek adventures, and am confident in their capacity to make the wise choice on that score. The choice is up to them now. Go get 'em my free-range kiddos!!!

**Edit: Of course, the day after posting this, my youngest decides to take advantage of the mad rush to get Daddy out the door to work, leave her known playtime boundaries, go visiting, and enter the rv of someone we've never met. Grrrrrr. More teaching about the bad things that can happen, shrinking of the boundaries, and a later attempt at regaining the freedom to be trusted on the porch seem called for. This whole philosophy of training your kids to handle freedom plays out in a *very* time- and energy-consuming way. But I'm still convinced that the payoff of confident, aware, character-filled kids is totally worth the work and risk!!!

In Pursuit of Perfection

2010-01-24T12:13:00.004-05:00

WARNING: This is the hashing through of some things God's been working on with me. It is sometimes a bit disjointed. Welcome to the chaos that is my brain...

What is sin, really? How we define it determines how we address it in others - and how we view God's take on it and on us. All of my religious life I've been taught a basic rule: Obedience equals righteousness equals love; disobedience equals sin equals hate. Simple. So I can measure if I'm righteous (pleasing God, measuring up, really love Him) by if I'm being obedient. But I'm not always obedient. In fact, I'm disobedient quite a bit. Which means I'm not measuring up. Which means I'm backslidden. Which means I don't really love Him. Which means I'm guilty. Which means I am condemned. Just ask me; I can tell you that my heart is telling me I'm not good enough - ever. The condemnation is nearly a physical presence. And it's all a logical following from that view of sin based on the proof verses that have been given; primarily the verses that say "If you love me, keep my commandments" and "to obey is better than sacrifice." But...

What if that understanding of those verses is wrong? What if they mean that my love for Him will manifest itself in acts of obedience, not that I need to self-examine and determine to will myself to obey, thereby *proving* my love? What if, in fact, obedience is simply an outgrowth of a loving relationship, a by-product if you will, rather than a self-willed act predicated on my understanding the will of God and turning away from "sinful disobedience" and toward "righteous obedience." Doesn't our very understanding of love recoil at the thought of having to "prove ourselves" to our lover? Doesn't love accept you for who you are and seek mutual service, not some series of hoops through which you must jump to gain its favor? Does love really say "if you don't do what I want you do to, you must not really love me"? If we saw a human relationship run on that understanding, wouldn't we call it "unhealthy" at best or "abusive" at worst? Yet we attribute this to God...and we transfer it to our parenting techique. IF YOU LOVE ME YOU *WILL* DO AS I SAY, AND IF YOU DON'T, YOU PROVE THAT DON'T LOVE OR RESPECT ME AND YOU WILL FACE MY CONDEMNATION.

If I was incapable of offering a perfect sacrifice of blood, how in the world can I be expected to offer a perfect sacrifice of obedience? I'm set up for failure and condemnation by this rule. How does that fit with the verses that say "there is none righteous," or "the Law was added so that trespass might increase"... does that mean that God sets me up for failure? That doesn't seem to gel with Who He says He is or with the whole of the rest of Scripture. Although it *does* make a convenient mode through which large numbers of people can be manipulated into furthering a certain person or group's ambitions or goals. Obey the Spiritual chain of command, voila! You're good enough. Disobey it? Tut-tut... you need to get right with God or get back into submission to His will (as revealed through said chain of command, of course.) And I'm thinking that it leads to the reproduction of lots of "whitewashed sepulchres" who are polished on the outside, but whose hearts are centered on self and whether self measures up rather than on God and loving Him.

However, what if sin's definition is what I read on another blog recently:

"Sin is falling short of perfection. Since we are not perfect, everything we do falls short. Thus, everything we do is in some way sinful....Debating forever about whether something is sinful or not is indeed long and tedious."

What if sin is, indeed, simply the missing of the mark of perfection. What if that military term is what it means, pure and simple - nothing more, nothing less. Just slotting your arrow, aiming as best you can at the target, drawing back the bowstring with all your strength, retaining as steady a hand as you can manage, letting fly,... and missing. What if, before the foundation of the world, the Creator *knew* that the creation couldn't hit that mark. What if that's why the Lamb was slain BEFORE THE FOUNDATION? This seems to gel better with Who He says He is and what He says my relationship to Him is. He says that apart from Him I can do nothing. He says that all of my righteousness is as filthy rags. He KNOWS that I can't hit perfection to save my life. That's why He saved my life for me. That's why He sacrificed Himself from the beginning. That's why He says that sin was in the world already before the Law (we didn't measure up before we ever realized that we didn't measure up.) That's why He sent the Law to reveal my need to me and the Messiah to fulfill the Law for me. That's why He says that there is no condemnation in Him; what is there to condemn? I just can't do it on my own - the created cannot attain being the Creator. No condemnation there, just truth. I'm good, but I'm not *that* good. And He doesn't *expect* me to be. What He wants - what He desires me to obey - is that I love Him for Who HE is. That I accept that I can't be Him, relax in being who I am, and let Him provide the lack. That our relationship bind us together as one, He the undeniably stronger partner, and that I rest and revel in that love, returning it as I am able through doing what would please Him rather than trying to *compete* with it and prove that I can be as good as He can.

So, what is it that would please Him? Do I need to cull the Scripture for a listing of activities in which I must involve myself? Attitudes which I must adopt? Or did He really mean what He said: that the whole of the Law and the Prophets hangs on two simple things - Love God and Love People. Can it really be that simple? Can it be so easy to individualize to my own talents and interests? Can my relationship with Him be just that - mine - and not have to look like anybody else's who has different talents, interests, and strengths? Can He really be able to love me, and you, and everybody else, for who we are? Can He complete me where I'm incomplete, and you where you are incomplete, and accept our love in the ways that we can exhibit it? Even if it's different from one another? Even if it isn't perfect?

And can we pass that kind of love on to our own kids? Can we accept them for who they are, love them and help to fill in their gaps, without condemning them for being incomplete and in need of a Messiah, too? Can we be patient with where their gaps coincide with our own and we both need the intervention of our Creator? Can we accept the love they can give in the manner in which they can give it and not bat it aside as not quite as perfect as we'd hoped? Can we accept their obedience as an outpouring of their love rather than demanding it as a proof of it? Can we accept their disobedience as a sign that they're as much a created thing as we are ourselves? And can we use it as an opportunity to introduce them to the Creator who loves them and knows they miss the mark and provided for them before the foundations of the world?

Or will we continue the cycle of predictable failure? And predictable depression? And predictable turning away from a god they can never please?

Torn

2010-01-18T10:14:00.003-05:00

I'm feeling terribly torn right now. I want to know but I want no part of it. I'm hurting for my friends but I don't want to take up offenses of others.

What am I talking about, right?

Some background:
I recently spent a little over a week in Texas with a dear friend and her family as they celebrated the marriage of their firstborn. It was a whirlwind of a time full of the event itself, prep, cleanup, visiting and laughing in-between, getting to literally live their lives with them for a week (how fun to get a glimpse -- and whew! I thought we were busy!!). It was such a blessing to be there. To get to talk to them face-to-face after two years of absence. To play with their kids. To share some of the joys and hurts they're going through. Loved the time.

But...it also held a few surreal moments for me. You see, it also put me in a position to attend the church that we left when we decided to leave full-time vocational ministry. My eldest son basically grew up there and was anxious to attend the youth group so he could see his old friends. When that possibility came up, the second son asked if they still had the AWANA program he had enjoyed. Son #3 didn't really remember much and has little to no interest in organized class settings, but the minute a playground was mentioned, he was up for going. The little princess is a social butterfly and wanted to go make new friends, too (it was so cute watching her play with some of the other "Hurricane Rita" babies - they're all so grown up now!). Of course, this was brought up a little more than an hour before said activities were to take place, so another whirlwind ensued getting everyone ready to go.

I was nervous at best. I didn't want to hold my kids back from their friends but I also had some serious reservations about going back to that setting. Would I be able to stand in the freedom I've found without becoming condemning toward my brothers and sisters in Christ who have remained in that organization? Would I feel like I had to explain myself? How would I answer the "so what church are you guys at now" question...or the "where's Dan ministering" question... it's easy with folks who haven't lived the history with us but these folks had. And some of them were a little unhappy with us when we left. Some of them had judged our motivations incorrectly, disagreed with our decision, and really didn't bother to take the time to know us well enough to realize the truth. Some of them I knew loved us and would take us as we were...but what about the others? Some of them I loved and would embrace freely...but what about those whose actions and words had hurt me? It's one thing to forgive a thousand miles away...would I find old grudges rising up in my heart or had the healing really been effective? I prayed as I dressed the kids, dressed myself, and headed out. Our God is awesome.

Ben, my eldest, sat in the front seat of the car with me. He knew I was nervous - and he knew why. We've had open conversations with him about things. Sometimes he's a pretty insightful kid. When we were almost to the church, he turned, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "Mom, listen. God's encouraging you. It'll be fine." I was puzzled but then realized he was turning up the song on the radio that I hadn't really clued in on. David Crowder's "I am free" was playing. Go God. And Go, Ben. Thanks, kiddo.

We went to the church that night and I was so blessed. Hugs and great conversations with old friends. Granted, a few sideways glances from some folks...the very ones I'd expected them from. But I found that the healing had indeed held true. I wasn't surprised by their coldness, I found my assessment of their take on things to be exactly what I had expected...but I wasn't personally hurt by it; I wasn't angered by it. I was a little saddened by it because there is no way I can possibly correct their view of myself and my husband. There is no way I can make myself acceptable to them or cause them to understand my point of view and agree to disagree. In the face of that knowledge, though, I was able to say "it is what it is" and move on and truly enjoy fellowship with some of the others there. When we returned for Wednesday service, I was able to fellowship with more of my family in TX and worship our Father with them. It is still not a setting to which I wish to bind myself again but I have found that when I am in it, I can freely love my extended family and freely worship my God. It's awesome to test the limits of His grace and healing and find them boundless.

So...why am I torn?

Since I've returned home, snippets of communication have come to my notice that prove that all is not well in that church. Hurtful things are happening to people I care about. I don't know the details. I haven't recieved any direct communications about it. It's just kinda swirling out there on the edge of things within my view. I don't know who is behind the hurt. I don't know specifically who all is targeted. But I know that people I love are being hurt. And the defensive, loyal, protective side of me wants to know who the culprit is, what exactly they've done, who has been affected, and set it all to rights. But I know I can't fix it. Deep down, I know that it's probably not good for me to know the details because my tendency would be not to pray for healing (at first) but to take up the offenses of the hurt party and sit the offending party down for a good talking-to. *sigh*

It is things like this that make me so thankful that I am free from living in that setting. Yet, it is things like this that make me want to still have some insight into what's happening in that setting so that I can help my friends. It is things like this that bring me to the point of decision...do I really believe that I can do anything more for my friends than our mutual Father can do? Do I want to surrender my freedom to become embroiled in the bondage of my past "for the sake of friends"? No on both counts. I find myself resigned to fight for my friends in this battle in the only way I know how: by lifting them up before the Father.

May He protect you. May He bind your wounds and be the balm of Gilead to you. May He guide your footsteps and keep you from falling. May He guard your tongue and keep you from being ashamed. May His love superceed your enemy's hatred. May you stand in the Truth and be kept safe from harmful lies. May you face battle with the Armor and Host of God Almighty and find respite in your Rock and Fortress. May you know, through it all, that you are beloved.

It's a Personal Thing

2010-01-16T11:55:00.005-05:00

The situation in Haiti has become of personal interest to Dan and I because of relationships with his co-workers. Some of you may not be aware, but Disney World is run with a large population of Haitian workers. It is so great a population that all employment documents are printed in 3 languages: English, Spanish, and Haitian Creole. The effect of this earthquake - it's devastation to entire families - is heart-wrenching. Disney has effectively offered amnesty to any Haitian nationals for days off of work; they are calling in daily and there are no reprimands at all as they try to spend their time tracking down family. Communications have been difficult at best.

One of Dan's coworkers has heard nothing about her family, but chooses to come in to work anyway rather than sit idly in her apartment worrying. Another has had her uncle call in for her every day since the tragedy because she is so distraught; her friend in Haiti was able to send her news that she has likely lost her *entire* family. Their apartment building collapsed and they can find none of them. Grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, neices, nephews, brothers, sisters - all shared 3 apartments in the same building and none can be found. To her knowledge, her only remaining family is the uncle with whom she moved to the United States. Hers is not an isolated incident. Those who have lost family have lost great numbers of family.

And the effects do not end there. Port-Au-Prince is the supply center for the entire nation. As its infrastructure has collapsed, the outlying areas find attaining food and fuel - basic necessities - to be near impossible. My friends, I find myself wondering what one person can do in this mess. Will the monetary donations make it into the right hands? If supplies are purchased, can they be delivered? What can be done?? And what difference will it make? I don't honestly know. I find myself remembering the words of another missionary in Kenya, Johnny Brooks. He says that he went there with big visions of ending poverty, changing the world. And over time, he realized that he could only touch one life at a time.

Can we fix it all? Can we make it all better? No. We can't. Not for everyone. But we *can* use the connections that we personally have, the resources that we personally have, and we can use them to help in the small place to which we have access. It won't fix everything. But it will minister Christ's love in the place He can use us. It may seem small. But think about the times when someone who could touch you helped in a seemingly small way. It made a difference *to you* didn't it? Maybe that's what it's about. Not one person tackling the whole big world of problems, but one person reaching one other person.

On that note, let me introduce you to the small place to which *I* have access:

Good Shepherd Ministries is led by a family - the Youngers - that I knew from my teen years on. I babysat their kids (and their pit bull who was such a teddy bear!), watched them train them up in the love of the Lord, and, along with them, heard many presentations from the organization they now lead in Haiti during my growing-up years. After I had married and moved away, they chose to become full-time missionaries in Haiti with the missions group that had presented so many times in our church. Good Shepherd has been operating in Haiti since the 1970's, providing schools, orphan care, medicinal care, and living the love of Christ. The Youngers were not in-country at the time of the earthquake, but you can read of their ongoing work there, ways that you can help, and the people that they already have on the ground at this time. There are far-reaching consequences to the entire country from this earthquake, and Good Shepherd is uniquely positioned to help even in out-lying areas of Haiti beyond the Port-au-Prince area.

Please be praying for the Youngers, their staffers, and their families. Take a look at their website and decide if maybe theirs is a ministry that you are led to support. Find the small thing you can do to touch the other life you can touch.

Northward, Ho, The Wagons!

2009-12-18T23:24:00.006-05:00

Okay, so I'm not above piggy-backing on a friend's blog. Especially when it is timely. First, go check out Melanie's blog (and be sure to read her links, too).

Now to how this touched me today. Today is a day that the ability to stop circling the hill country became real. Today, the last string that tied me to the past was cut. Today, our bankruptcy was finalized. Today we rejoiced and turned fully north.

Yes, I said rejoiced. This has been a huge weight in our lives and one that I have not felt free to share. Partly because with all the things I've shocked my friends about on this blog, this was the one I felt may result in some consternation among them. Partly because this financial circumstance has symbolized the combined whole of things that have been the cause of much hurt and bitterness. Partly because I figured that if I shared that I saw the fact of our bankruptcy as a huge, unadulterated, GOD - GIVEN blessing, it would begin a firestorm of reproach and proof that God never desires anyone to go to bankruptcy court; especially not those whom He has called to ministry. *Gasp* To think that the woman would pawn fiscal irresponsibility off as a blessing...just as well they're no longer in a position of religious authority...

However...

Now that's it is finalized - and after reading Mel's blog today - I feel compelled to write. So, reproach as you will; I still believe that God's hand is all over this. Those of you who have read this blog from the beginning have heard much of what led us out of full-time ministry, the personal hurts we faced, and the steps to spiritual and emotional healing that have happened over the last couple of years. What was carefully omitted was the financial effect of the religious position in which we took a net pay cut every year for 7 years, 3 high-risk pregnancies during those years without maternity insurance, a traumatic auto crash which resulted in physical therapy and the purchase of a newer and more expensive vehicle, a move to FL to a lagging job market, and the realities of 4 kids who *will* grow and need food and clothing to accomodate that growth. There were so many points of hurt that stung so much every time I looked at the mounting debt, every time I decided which bill went unpaid this week, every time that my husband came home dead tired but knowing that he couldn't take a day off because we needed that money. Anger boiled at people who had declared their noble commitment to seeing that their minister was cared for, then refused to acknowledge that a family of 3 (which we had been) requires far less to sustain it than a family of 6 (which we became). Disbelief baffled me as I pondered those who suggested that if we weren't making it on the salary, we seriously consider whether we should be having babies at all. Accusations of hypocrisy jumped to my lips when remembering that the student loan debt - required to attain the degree necessary to attain this position as we had no parental assistance in our education - was scoffed at as irresponsible and no concern of the personnel committee's in determining a fair salary. Indignation surfaced as I remembered the dump truck that obliterated our almost-paid-off vehicle and carried no insurance, leaving us with the bill for a new car. Wrong upon wrong was written there in the family financial accounts. And every time I balanced the checkbook, I fought not only a financial battle, but a spiritual one as well. Love keeps no record of wrongs and yet here it was in red all over my checkbook. How I was reminded, week after week, of the sacrifices we had made of our family and our finances. And then the day came.

The day that there simply was no more money. The day that I couldn't decide who would get paid because there wasn't enough to pay anyone. The day that the credit limit was exhausted and there was no more cash to keep moving the debt around. The day that bankruptcy became the only option. It was against everything we'd been taught. A Godly man doesn't default on his debts. A Godly man doesn't give up. A Godly man - if he truly has faith - prays and God WILL ALWAYS open the floodgates of heaven and supply his needs (in exactly the manner he expects and that will be socially acceptable to his peers, of course). We were failures. We must not have had enough faith. We put up with the pay cuts too long; we put the church above our family for too long; we did this, we did that, we...we...we...did exactly what we believed God had asked of us. We stayed in the position exactly until He released us. We came to FL when He said go. We didn't seek revenge. We didn't lash back and quit even as we saw the pay cuts happen. We accepted it; accepted where we were; accepted that God had it... and wound up with no financial options. Could it be that He needed us there? Could it be that we needed to be there? To finally take God completely out of His box and live the reality that He works in ways we don't understand and leads us --- *actually leads us* --- down paths that look like failure, loss, pain, in order to more fully strip us of ourselves and reveal Himself? We couldn't believe we were considering bankruptcy; that God would leave us no other option. Yet here we were.

And here we were with excitement and in agreement with one another. Crazy, huh?

I can call it nothing less than excitement. To have worked through all of the spiritual and emotional issues we'd worked through over the last few years yet have this constant reminder in the form of financial stress was daunting. To have the prospect of a bankruptcy that would remove that last reminder, abolishing the debt accrued in those difficult years and allowing a completely fresh start in even this last area of our lives was exciting. We thanked God for putting the option in front of us (on the same day He had led me to a website and Dan to a friend at work that gently suggested bankruptcy; by the time we were together that night, we were both trying to figure out how to raise the subject with the other). We met with a lawyer. The lawyer thought we were crazy. Why had we waited so long and tried to keep afloat, only getting deeper in? We had been eligible for bankruptcy all the way back in those years in the religious position; a family of our size was able to make twice what we had made at our most affluent and still qualify. Hmmmmm... And we had endured two years of pay at one-third of what we had made in the church, paying for necessities on credit so as to keep our debt payments current, and waiting for that God-dropped cash to fall from the sky. Because we were too proud to admit that we simply couldn't pay the bills. Because asking for our debt to be forgiven was completely ungodly. Did you read that? I'll say it again...catch the nuance: BECAUSE ASKING FOR OUR FINANCIAL DEBT TO BE FORGIVEN WAS COMPLETELY UNGODLY.

Did you catch it? The blatant, self-sufficient, pride-driven lie? Tell me you've never heard it before. Even as we tell others that God forgives the most aggregious sin for the asking, we are also told that to ask for financial forgiveness of debt is nothing less than gross negligence of our duty and unfits one for being seen as quite spiritual enough for leadership. It doesn't matter why the debt accrued; all debt is sinful and all request for complete forgiveness should be disdained. Partial forgiveness may be grudgingly allowed, more lenient terms of repayment arranged, but never full and complete forgiveness. This is the double weight under which we struggled: the debt combined with the inability for it ever to be paid off by us or forgiven by our creditors. It is a heavy load. And yet, through this two years of learning to live with God rather than man's religious ideas of Him, we were set free even in this area. (If you'd like, do some Bible research on the terms "debt", "forgive", and "jubilee"... you may catch some of God's ideas on the subject, too!)

Today is a day of rejoicing. Today, we live in forgiveness of our financial debt. And, I daresay, it inclines us to remember to be more forgiving to those who are indebted to us. Today, we see that our Father provides in ways that are beyond our comprehension and ways which allow us to more clearly see Himself. We have had some wandering in the wilderness because we needed to learn more of Him. It is time to turn north. To not tread the same ground again.

It Could've Been a Screenplay...

2009-12-09T19:31:00.004-05:00

It had all the elements: action, drama, suspense, conflict, emotional range, heroes, villains, innocent bystanders, and a moral woven throughout. I'm thinkin' God's a pretty good playwright and somebody had it close to dead-on when they said that "All the world's a stage and the men and women merely players."

The Setting:
Field #1 of the Under Armor American Youth Football National Championships.
Game 2 of the series. The semi-finals.
It is a sunny, breezy, beautiful day. The grass is green, families are cheering, the air is filled with the sounds of pads colliding and whistles blowing.

The Cast of Characters:

Kissimmee Kowboys - the long-shot underdogs. They had not made the playoffs in their regional division, but won a wild-card slot at these championship games. It was not known that they would play until 3 days prior to the start of the championships. Every other team has been playing non-stop; our heroes turned in their gear four weeks ago and squeezed in 2 hours of practice prior to their first championship game (which they won against an unbeaten team!). Oh, and did we mention our team has *1* ninth grader (the rest are 8th grade) and made the wild card slot in the ninth grade division?

Osceola Panthers - the odds-on favorites and cross-county rivals of the Kowboys. They made (and won) the regional playoffs, thereby winning a seat in the National games. This team is known for dirty play, punching and kicking when in a pile-up, and deliberately injuring opponents' players that pose a threat. Oh, and did we mention that the coach was recently fired and there was much debate over their eligibility because it was found that they played with 10th- and 11th-graders on their team during the regular season?

Coach Kenny King - deserving of his last name. True follower of Jesus Christ, ex-NFL Europe player, gentleman, teacher...coach.

The Scene:

Both teams arrive at the field and begin their warm-ups. Coach King begins the Kowboys' practice with prayer, encouragement, and a call to clean play. Our cast of characters take the field, toss the coin, and begin play.

Within the first two series, the Panthers live up to their reputation even without the former coach to egg them on. Two of the Kowboys' offensive players wind up on the sidelines, doubled over in pain due to having cleats placed forcefully and effectively in tender locations under the obscuring cover of a pile-up. Tempers already begin to flare as obscenities are thrown and referees ignore the violation. The Kowboys begin to give in to the anger and miss blocks, allowing turnovers and giving the offending Panthers the opportunity to score.

The Panthers score the first touchdown of the game on their second possession. Immediately, the Kowboys drop their heads, anger gives way to discouragement, and they begin to give up. More missed blocks, an interception at the 4 yard line...emotion-driven mistakes lead to further Panther scores. Some of the Kowboys begin to blame teammates; infighting erupts. The center (my own big guy) takes a tackle that injures his leg, resulting in the coach removing him from play and replacing him with the back-up who has not practiced at center in months. More frustration and infighting on the offensive line ensues.

By half-time, Coach Kenny King has had it with the breakdown on his team. It isn't the mistakes that bother him; it's the infighting. He's fought long and hard to make these boys into a team and *will not* tolerate ugliness, blame, disrespect, or attitude on his team. He will not permit his boys to lower themselves to dirty play. As they come off the field at the half, two players begin to make motions of tossing their helmets - he stops them. No temper tantrums on his team. As others on the team begin to cast blame, he stops them as well...they talk back. Not to this coach. The boys are gathered on the bleachers. He lays it on the line for them: "The rules allow me to play with 7 players. Do I still have 7 men willing to play football? I'm not going to put up with quitting or attitude. If you want to play, step across this line, but I'm not going to have any more attitude at all. Move, gentlemen, but only if you mean it." Most of the team rallies to their coach's call...

Two remain sullenly seated. The quarterback and the receiver who is able to catch anything, anywhere, at any time. They think they're invaluable. Coach doesn't really mean what he says. He needs us, but the rest of the team sucks. (the very word used by the receiver about his teammates...to the coach... in front of his teammates.) Sadly, firmly, the coach points to the two and orders them to take off their pads and helmets; they're done. Shock. Disbelief. "Now, gentlemen." And he turns to rally the boys who want to be there; who are willing to dig in and play it out; who want to show character against the odds and maintain integrity on the field in the face of the opponent's obvious lack thereof. The boys who want to succeed as men.

One of the two players continues his ranting, his attitude, throwing his gear to the ground and stomping off. The other removes his gear but desperately wants to be on that field. He approaches Coach King. Please, a second chance? "If you can man up and admit to what you've done wrong and accept your team's forgiveness, you can come back out." NO! That's too much. To stand in front of them...? NO...walks off...wanders around... reconsiders... returns... apologizes... is welcomed back onto the field. In limited capacity, to be sure; sharing his role now with the one who has played back-up all season. But still in the game. And with much learned. A hard lesson in respect, responsibility, and redemption. And I'm sure it will stick with him - and his teammates - longer than the outcome of the game.

The second half continues much as the first: cheap shots by the Panthers, breakdowns in the game of the Kowboys who are playing down one receiver and one starting center, considerable mental distractions, and more scoring by the Panthers. But, in the midst of it all, the Kowboys that remain choose to encourage one another, to back each other up, to play positions they aren't used to playing because the team needs them there. And although they lost the game, they gained so much as young men. They learned that integrity and character are shown not in how you accept a victory but in how you handle a defeat. That attitude is not dependent on circumstance. And one last lesson that cut to my heart...Coach King taught us parents, as well.

In the post-game huddle, all of the above was recapped. Character. Integrity. Manliness. Respect. Fair play. Encouragement. Building up rather than tearing down. Accountability. "And, don't you boys worry. I'm still going to have a talk with ________ (the player that walked out)." *insert mutter from co-coach* Sharp turn of Coach King's head. Quick but obvious consideration followed by the following, "Enough. I don't want to hear another word about him. Don't any of you boys call him. Don't get on him in school. I'm going to talk to him because it's between him and me. And *I'm* going to do it because, this is important boys; are you listening? HE NEEDS TO BE BUILT BACK UP, TOO. HE DOESN'T NEED TO BE TORN DOWN FARTHER THAN HE ALREADY IS. YOU LET ME DO MY JOB AND BUILD HIM BACK UP."

Oh, my. He walked out on you. He would've spat on you if he dared. He let you down. His attitude stunk. He was hateful and ugly to the rest of your boys that you protect like a mama bear...but *he's* one of your boys, too. And you love him enough to see past what he's acting like to what he needs. Redemption in action. Thank you, coach. Thanks for being way more than a football teacher. Thanks for reminding me of what real love for my own kids looks like. Thanks for a great season, a positive attitude, and a living example of the character of Christ.

Balance...

2009-11-10T15:16:00.005-05:00

...it's a topic that's been on my mind a lot lately. Probably because I've been feeling particularly UNbalanced!

There have been so many changes in my life in the last two years: changing states, changing employment for hubby, changing from house-dwelling to rv-dwelling, changing financial status, changing views on what is and is not my calling as a wife/mom/homeschooler/Christian... the list goes on. Most of these changes have required a letting-go in some area or another. A relaxing of my grip on the reins of my life and a relinquishing of my illusions of what I can, in fact, control.

It has left me wondering if I've relaxed a little *too* much. Through all the change, I have seen quite clearly that I am in charge of pretty much nothing. I cannot control weather, cannot control circumstances, cannot control whether employment opportunities arise, cannot control what others think of my decisions, cannot control my children...so I stopped trying to control those things. Well, in honesty, I *started trying* to stop trying to control them. Does that make sense? And it has been a different "giving up" than had happened previously; I had thrown up my hands in frustration and depression years back and quit trying in a number of areas -- things like caring for myself, bothering to find outside interests, etc. This is different. It's more of a learning to take what comes and work with it rather than continuously laying plans and trying to squash timelines, circumstances, and people into them. But...

Part of that has involved not planning so much. I used to be a notebook-in-hand, life-by-a-schedule kind of girl. Depression hit and I became a "who cares, anyway" kind of a girl. Worked through that, among other things, and now I'm wondering where the balance lies. I don't want to go back to being bound by the clock, driven by urgent demands (generally placed on myself by myself), and frantically racing through each day to get some arbitrarily set list of tasks completed, barking orders like a drill sergeant with no time to play and teach and enjoy the process, and feeling like a failure when I...well...FAIL. It has become clear, however, that NO planning leads to an equal amount of frustration. Especially when grandparents are around that want to be involved in their grandkids lives but also have schedules of their own to be considered (geez, don't they know the very universe is supposed to revolve around the grandkids??). :P

Seriously, though, I'm trying to find that balance between planning and allowing those plans to have wiggle room. Or room to be blown up altogether at the last minute without me blowing up with them. I'm trying to learn to balance working on my relationship with my husband with working on my relationship with my Jesus and my relationships with my kids and developing relationships with new people (never easy for me). I'm trying to balance freedom in homeschooling and experiential learning with some schedule for the basics to be handled. It would seem that I'm an all-or-nothing kind of gal whether being driven or totally relaxed. Somewhere between the two is a mid-ground. A place where plans are made, but are okay to be broken. Where kids are given the freedom to be who they are, but also guided to responsible handling of time, relationships, possessions, and learning. Where the things of the Spirit are wound all around and through everything that is said and done each day without being forced artificially to the forefront via some prescribed program. Where the marriage is the primary relationship in the home and is given its proper care and nurture, but has room to include the kids gracefully even when "alone" time was expected. Where the family is the primary calling, but has room to include friendships and reaching out to new people.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm trying to let go and allow the Spirit to mold me into who He wants me to be without becoming lazy about my part in that: someone characterized by love first and foremost, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control. Discipline without seizing control. Order without heavy-handedness. Instruction without demanding. Love without hypocrisy. Joyful play without neglecting responsibility. Balance. It's an elusive thing...

A Friend Said it Better...

2009-11-01T07:39:00.017-05:00

...than I ever could have. At least in as few words as she used! :P

So...I'm going to just send you over to Melanie at Seeking Contentment, let you read her blog (and my overly-long comment to it), and enjoy the pics that follow here.

Arriving at Downtown Disney

Our 1920's mobster later found a perfect carnation to add to his ensemble. Thanks, Disney gardeners!

Racing Cars at the Lego Store

All the kids worked on one car as wheels were scarce. So fun to watch them work together, not bicker over who would have the privelege of "launching" it in the race, and then cheer the Jamesmobile on to the finish line.

Super Silliness

Daddy was buying an awesome caramel apple for the parents to share. Much silliness ensued.

We thoroughly enjoyed our First Annual Family "Rock or Treat." It takes its name from "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." The Peanuts all go trick-or-treating and at each house, the same scenario is repeated: "I got a chocolate bar"..."I got taffy"..."I got a ROCK!" Good grief, Charlie Brown!

Dan and I were discussing the cons of Halloween with the kids (selfishness, demanding, retaliation, gore, pagan history, etc.) and the pros of the modern celebration forms (dress-up, sharing, creativity, gift-giving, fun, laughter, family togetherness, helping one another, showing thankfulness). We explained that we were, indeed, going to dress up this year and start a new family celebration that parallelled the Halloween celebration forms but was rooted in different values (thanks, early church, for the idea...). Yes, I thoroughly understand that some will see this as justification, compromise, whatever. No, I'm not going to spend time here defending our decision. Suffice it to say that we want our kids to think prayerfully and critically for themselves and determine what they will and will not participate in based on their own convictions rather than the dictates of anyone else. But I digress...

...to continue: it became apparent that the phrase "trick or treat" didn't really fit in with what our family was celebrating. Few phrases so effectively combine threats of malicious intent with demands for gratification as this one. But what could we use that would mean thankfulness, silliness, fun, and gratitude for gifts freely offered (which they were where we took the kids)? The discussion continued throughout breakfast until Michael said, " I know. We can tell people thank you for their gift; we'll accept it if it's candy or rocks. Whatever. We'll say thank you for it all." That was a little long-winded for the purpose, so we began trying to shorten it.

End result: "Rock or Treat" combined with "Thank you!"

***Edit: I know the spacing in the last paragraphs is funky. I can't get blogger to accept line spacing between paragraphs or even indention spacing. I'm sorry. It's driving me nuts!

Sigh

2009-10-03T11:18:00.012-04:00

Here's what I'm missing today as I nurse some strange neck injury:

My Big Guy, the Center.

He's Number 57; the guy with his hand on the ball.

My Middle Guy; Defensive Line.

He's Number 27; the small guy with the big heart.

"Let me hit the big guys, Coach!"

My Little Ones; The Entertainment.

As crazy busy as Saturdays are, I love the time to play together, cheer each other on, and visit with both sets of grandparents. We are so blessed to have a family that loves being around each other and I'm sorely missing this today. My neck had better shape up quick; this redhead won't stand for this much longer!

'Tis a Gift to be Simple, 'Tis a Gift to be Free...

2009-10-02T09:22:00.023-04:00

Below:The view from our main room, through the kitchen, to the master.

The cabinet on the left houses our dvd/cd collection. Anything that keeps kids from running down the "hallway" while parents are occupied is a great thing. The ill effects of TV overload are nothing compared to the ill effects of two children hurtling in opposite directions at high velocity in an enclosed space.

I know whereof I speak.

Above: Our Bathroom.

It is situated on the right side of the coach, immediately behind the kitchen. Yes, that is a removable showerhead. And, yes, we have had to dry the entire bathroom after certain unnamed children have "forgotten" to close the shower curtain. There has also been a learning curve regarding hot water usage: water on to wet yourself and your soap, water off while scrubbing, water on to rinse. Any other alternative yields VERY COLD rinse water; a 6 gallon water heater only lasts so long!

Below: Our Refrigerator and Wardrobe.

The refrigerator accommodates 2 half-gallons, but not one full gallon. It has taught us to buy fresh, buy only what we will eat, and that just because it's two for the price of one doesn't mean that two need to come home with you.

The wardrobe houses all of the kids' clothing and shoes, the jackets, and the bedding when it isn't in use. Our always-active kids have found that it makes both an ideal hiding place for hide-and-seek (although the pile of shoes in the hallway tends to give you away) and a wonderful alternative to a rock-climbing gym when used in conjunction with the opposite wall.

Above: Our Master Suite.

It spans the rear of the coach, as does the full-size bed. To the left, you will notice our school book/supply storage drawers, as well as the "big people" hanging clothes. In the center is the bed that our dog, Blackie, graciously allows us to use at her discretion. To the right is the improvised shoe rack. The four doors at the ceiling level house all folding clothing for Dan and I.

Last, But not Least: Our Multi-Purpose Main Room

This room is where we spend most of our indoor time. It has many incarnations. Mostly, it is used as a living area, as pictured first. TV time, schoolwork, creating with Hot Wheel track and Imaginext toys, board games, reading, wrestling...you name it; it takes place here.

At mealtimes, or when doing art or written work, it is transformed with the fold-away dining table. There is always discussion about who will sit on the end nearest the TV -- even if the TV is off. And there will always be one child convinced that they can sit precariously on the edge of the passenger seat and still reach the food on the table without sacrificing one bite to the lurking dog.

At night, the couch transforms to a bed for two, the fold-away mattress is laid out for one on the floor, and the drop-down bunk emerges to tempt little monkeys to swing the perimeter of the room using only toy storage, bunk bed, and book storage. This never ends well. Usually, all the kids are settled in and asleep within minutes, and awake in the morning only to put it all away for another day!

So, there you have it.

How 6 people live reasonably peacefully in a 33ft RV.

Simple is good.

I'm NOT God.

2009-10-01T21:25:00.004-04:00

I know. This is a shocker to all of you. But it's true. I'm not. And to prove it, I'm going to show you how little I know.

I was so proud of myself last week. I started on Monday and determined that the whole RV was going to be dust-free, dog-hair-free, and organized if it killed me. We've had a crazy few weeks with football and life in general, and things had gotten to where we were moving things out of the way constantly just to function. This gets old. Fast. So I decided that it was going to end then and there.

I stuck with my plan, with a minor interruption on Tuesday with a Migraine (yes, it deserved a capital letter), and had the whole thing glistening by Wednesday. Aaaaah...peace, tranquility, and cleanliness. For a while, anyways. What a great opportunity to snap some pictures (finally) and show my bloggy friends just how we manage to live with 6 folks in this space. The kids thought I'd lost it when I got out the camera and rolled their eyes as I got into some interesting positions to get whole rooms in the shots. (You have to be a contortionist to get a *good* angle when you're working with long, narrow rooms. No, my children are not permitted to climb on counters just because they saw me do it. Because I'm the Mom, that's why.)

Thursday and Friday arrived as normal, and Saturday was Football Day. Thankfully, Football Day took place in the same county as both sets of grandparents, who graciously offered to take all 4 kiddos so that hubby and I could have a whole day to ourselves. I don't *think* anybody's fingers got caught in the door as we slammed it and ran away...

We spent a portion of that day shopping for a new travel trailer. It has become apparent that we are growing out of our bedding arrangements and more floor space to separate simultaneous activities would be helpful during school time. Not to mention the fact that we're experiencing some "inconveniences" in our well-loved 1982 rig. A flushing toilet would be nice (without having to fill it from the sink before you flush). And a 'fridge that doesn't defrost out the seal on the door and onto the floor. And an engine that can be depended on to start and move without Herculean efforts. She's been a blessing to us, but she's really getting to require a lot more maintenance expense than we're willing to put into her.

Our timeline has been December/January for this, and we were just hoping to be able to browse and ask some questions without the incessant "don't jump on the bunks," "no, you can't push the button to raise the steps," "COME HERE" that happens when we've been out looking with the kids. We met a really nice salesman and found the rig we'd really like to have. He gave us great information on our financing options, etc. It's still not something we were planning on doing right away due to some other circumstances in our lives, but we gained valuable information and felt more assured of the direction we wanted to go when we were able. We went on, enjoyed the rest of our day together, and picked the kids back up.

Then, God stepped in. It's a long, convoluted story that I may share details on later, but suffice it to say that the outcome is that, barring the unforeseen, we will be living in that trailer by the end of next week. I am floored by the people and circumstances that God has used to make this possible and am blessed beyond measure at this gift at this time. It is looking nothing like how we thought it would, is happening when we least expected it, is coming from a source we didn't know existed, and is not at all how WE had planned it. And there you have it: proof that I am not God. I'm so glad. Because I'm having so much fun watching Him do this. And I'm wondering how He's going to allow us to use this blessing in our lives to bless others.

So...are you going to get to see those photos? Sure! Then, when I show you the new rig a few weeks/months/years from now, you'll see what a difference a few feet can make! But I'll put it in a seperate post; too much scrolling is no fun.

Rude Awakening

2009-09-13T07:54:00.004-04:00

5:20am. It's a full 25 minutes before that annoying alarm is set to jolt me into a new day. My husband saves it the trouble by shaking the whole bed as he startles awake, panic-stricken that he's missed the alarm, and demanding to know what time it is. Um, it's 5:20. *sigh* He dozes right back off, and I'm left, heart pounding, restless, and unable to relax until about 30 seconds before...the stupid alarm does it's job.

As he was showering and I was preparing his work clothes for the day, my attitude stunk. Why is it MY responsibility to keep up with what time it is? (um, because I took it over. Dan's more than happy to have the clock on his side of the bed, but he will let that alarm buzz until he's darn good and ready to shut it off. I smack it after the first buzz so it won't wake all the kids, too!) HE can drift right back off; while he sleeps and tells me to snooze the alarm, I lie there desperately trying to still my mind and body to get that missed rest. Why am I here ironing his stinkin' costume? Why didn't he get it set out and ready last night? Because he, like the kids, knows that if they don't, I'll step in and make it happen. I'll get everyone to practice on time, I'll make sure the pantry is stocked, I'll serve meals and wash clothes, I'll chase runaways and administer discipline, I'll think for everyone so they have what they need when they need it and know where to find it. I don't think anyone really wants me in the family for who I am, but for what I can do for them so they don't have to. Gripe, complain, martyr, poor me. And I just *know* the kids are going to be up early again. (they were)

The more I complained to myself, the more sour my outlook for the rest of the day became. And it hasn't been helped by the previous few days. It's been a bit of a ride around here lately. But, in the back of my mind, something - or Someone - started niggling. Really? You don't like to be taken for granted? You don't like to be just expected to be there at everyone's beck and call?You'd like your service to be a freely offered gift rather than a demanded duty? You'd like to be known for who you are rather than what you can do? You don't want to be ignored until somebody needs something? And you'd like to be appreciated whether you lifted a finger in service or not? Just because you're a person of worth?

I absolutely stopped short. My last post was full of praise for a Lord who answers panicked, crying-out prayer. And He does. But what if His answer had been "lean on Me to survive the tragic death of your baby boy who ran out into traffic." What if it had been "I am still a good and loving Daddy even as your family goes through the storm of a court trial and foster care placement." What if He had said, "I am Sovereign, Almighty God and will watch over MY CHILD even though you have never been able to find him." What if? Would I still praise Him? Would I lift my hands in worship if my worst fears had been realized? Would I love Him for WHO HE IS rather than what He did for me?

The Scripture says that man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart. I've often heard that used to emphasize looking past racial boundaries, cultural differences, dress, hygeine, class or education differences. But it's also about looking past what people do to who they are; past what God does to Who He is. There's a line in the movie Batman Begins that says "It's not who you are underneath, but what you do that defines you." And it is true that who you are is often manifest in what you do. But man looks on what God does (in our weak and incomplete perception of what He does) and seeks to define Him by what we see Him do rather then by Who He really is. If we don't catch what He's doing, if we don't see the whole plan unfold, if we miss the details and only define Him by our perceptions of His distance, His deafness to our pleas, then we define Him incorrectly. We miss "who He is underneath;" not because He seeks to hide from us, but because our vision is incomplete, imperfect, focused on our own expectations. And we fail to praise Him; sometimes we go so far as reviling and rejecting Him. All because we define Him by what He does rather than Who He is.

His Eye is on the Sparrow

2009-09-09T13:16:00.004-04:00

Ever have one of those things happen that reinforce how little you have control over anything? That emphasize the loving hands of an Almighty God who really is looking out for you? And that you would *never* live through again if given any choice in the matter?

Today, one of those things happened at our house. I'm alternating between shaking and praising. It was terrifying. Michael ran off.

No big deal, you say. Michael runs off a lot. It's his coping mechanism of choice. And you always know where he's going: the bathhouse. Except for this time. This time it happened while I was in the laundry room, so he specifically avoided the bathhouse because that's where I was. This time, not one of the other kids hollered at him to stop, thereby alerting me that all was not well 30 yards away on our little lot. This time I had no idea where to start looking.

I returned from the laundry room, opened the door, and saw 3 of my 4 kids. "Where's Michael?" ...silence... "We thought he was going to you. He got mad and..." "Which direction did he go?"...silence... "STAY HERE AND LOCK THE DOOR!!!" Off I ran, shouting for him, knowing that he never responds to his name being called but unable to stop the reflex. Barefoot, in my pajamas because my clothes were in the wash, hair unkempt...not caring at all. WHERE ARE YOU, MICHAEL???

Michael was not in the bathhouse. He was not on our lot or the neighbor's. Not on the roof of the rv. Not at the pool or the clubhouse. Not on any of the streets in the complex that I cruised, making a nuisance of myself by shouting out the window for him. Nowhere. Surely he wouldn't...No, it's too scary to think...Did he *leave the rv park?*

I turned the car out onto the main road, shaking at the possibilities. We live a couple of blocks from HWY192, the main drag for tourists, hotels, and the main entrance to Walt Disney World. It's busy. People don't know where they're going. And not everybody is very nice. Surely my baby isn't out here. Except that he was.

I saw the landscaper truck for our complex and our office manager standing by the side of the road. They know Michael; maybe they've seen him. I pull over. "We hoped you'd be here soon. We have Michael." Don't collapse...hold it together..."Thank you so much!"..."We've called the police. They'll be here soon. Michael did good. He knew his name, where he lived, your name. He's very smart."...don't scream at them and demand to know why they didn't just bring him home but involved the police..."Yeah, he's smart. Just doesn't understand that running off isn't an appropriate response to being upset."...O, Lord, what do I do? The cops?? Three parents in the area have had their kids removed and been sent to jail for this exact thing. Kids take off sometimes. He's been gone for all of 10 minutes. LORD????..."Well, we knew it was yours the minute he said his name. You have to keep a better eye on him. He was going to cross 192 because he wanted to go to the store." ...silence. just be thankful he's okay. tears, tears, tears. FEAR! LORD?????

The police arrived after what seemed an eternity. Michael was in my car, the landscapers waited patiently. Officer Campbell walked up and asked what happened. I gave him the short version: laundry room, sibling fight, autistic response, search, found. He walked over and spoke with the landscapers. I couldn't hear their story. He came back and tried to get Michael to look him in the eye. He wouldn't. He sat balled up, rocking and smiling. Finally, the officer asked Michael why he ran. *grin* "'Cause my brother, Ben, made me mad," spoken in his baby voice that he uses when he's having trouble relating. He uses it a lot. Officer Campbell tried to communicate that he scared his mommy and everybody when he ran off, that he can't do that, do you understand? No eye contact, but a brief nod of the head. Is he getting that this is the level of communication with Michael all the time?? That he just has no grasp of the danger?? Please, Lord, give him insight. Please don't let our family be the one featured on the news tonight as being the unfit, unsupervisory homeschooling proof that parents shouldn't have the right to care for their own kids.

After a couple of futile attempts to drive home the seriousness of the situation, Officer Campbell asked for my identification. He ran my license, came back and verified with Michael that I was indeed his mother, handed me my license with a parting, "Michael, remember. Don't leave your house without your mommy," and went his way. No report written or filed. No reprimands to me for not watching out for my child. Thank you, Lord. He didn't ask where the offending sibling was or why he wasn't in school. He apparently understood. Thank you, Lord. You do care and involve Yourself in the daily lives of your children. Just, please, can we not do this ever again? Thanks.

How Do You Respond to That?

2009-09-08T20:54:00.004-04:00

This telephone conversation took place last week but it just keeps running around in my head. So I decided to get it out. Hopefully it will have fun running around in your head, too.

Thrift Store Proprietor: "Hello?"

Customer (Me): "Hi. I was wondering if you have any of those pop-up canopies that are used for sporting events, etc.? " (Yes, I *do* call ahead rather than rummaging through thrift stores while herding cats, er, kids.)

Proprietor: "Yes, I do have one of those."

Me (excited to have finally found one): "Great! How much are you asking for it?"

Proprietor: "Oh. It isn't for sale. I use it for cover when I set up displays out in front of my store. Those things are really handy!"

So...how in the world do you respond to that?? I chose stunned silence followed by a stammered "Thanks." Click.

Happy Birthday to Me!

2009-08-30T08:55:00.004-04:00

Another year older. So much has happened in the past year. So many changes, adjustments; so much growing up! Some of those changes were reflected beautifully in my birthday celebration.

When you think birthday gift, what do you think? Be honest. The first thing that popped into your mind was some form of "stuff", wasn't it? Well, we don't have room for more stuff. There's only so much stuff you can stuff into a 33foot RV. We've prioritized our spending to the point that we don't really have the cash to spend on more stuff, either. And, honestly, the less stuff we've had in recent months, the more free we've been, so we desire stuff less and less. Hmmm. If that's the case, what's a hubby to do to celebrate his wife's birthday? We're treading new ground here on what it means to give a gift to someone. And, oh man, if he did this well the first time around, I can't wait to see what the future brings!!

So...what was my hubby's birthday gift to me? You'll have to have some background on our life first. We have 2 boys that play football. It is currently football season. That means 4 nights per week of practice (5:30-7:30pm), and all day Saturday at the football field for games (one plays at 10am, the other at 3pm). This also means that, because darling hubby works mostly nights, I do the shuttling to practice and entertaining the 2 little ones during that time, feeding everyone late, doing bathing and bedtime most nights by myself. And on Fridays, this is compounded with putting together a cooler of drinks/food to make it through Saturday, a bag of toys to entertain little guys for hours on end, making sure laundry is caught up so we have changes of clothes for sweat-drenched kids to change into, gathering football equipment and making sure pads are switched from practice pants to game pants, breakfast is set out and ready at bedtime because Saturday morning is up and running around here...well, you get the point. Fridays are BUSY for me.

My birthday just happened to fall on Friday this year. And Dan was working again. The kids happened to wake up with a bee in their bonnet and it was shaping up to be a battling day. But all that gotta-do list had to get done!! By the time we had to leave for football practice, I was stressing because much of the list had gone by the wayside in favor of intervening in my kids' antics so as to keep all of them alive and my house in one piece. Dan called while we were at practice to see how things were going (sneaky man!) and got an earful of frustration. Little did I know that his gift was already in progress.

Football practice let out early, and we headed home thinking that MAYBE the list could be salvaged since it wasn't horribly late yet. I drove up to find that Dan was home already. That was strange. We opened the door to find the entire list done. No joke. The whole thing. The dog was bathed. The dishes were done. The laundry was in process. The floor (and ceiling - it's carpeted in our RV!) had been vacuumed. The toys were put away. The porch was swept. The bathroom was cleaned. And Dan was just waiting for me to get home so he could go out and do take-out for whatever my heart desired for dinner; there were chicken tenders already cooking for the kids. My sweet man had planned ahead, talked to his boss, and gotten approval to take off early so he could do this for me. What a precious gift!!!! He took the whole burden off of my shoulders. It's not just the *doing* the stuff, but also the *thinking* to be sure that everyone has everything covered for the entire next day because we won't be home at all. He did that just for me! I think I'm likin' this creative, no-stuff, gift-giving thing!! We wound up having a wonderfully relaxing evening, and a great day at football the next day with both sets of grandparents there to cheer on the kids. To steal a phrase, it was a "perfectly perfect" birthday weekend! (oh, and there were French Silk Pie *and* Publix birthday cake. YUM!)

The Road to Healing - Fin.

2009-08-24T05:35:00.006-04:00

The wait is finally over. You can take those worms out of your mouth now. (Sorry - reference to a bad joke from my childhood: "waiting with bated breath". Get it? Bate = bait = worms. I know. It's bad.) Where were we? Oh, yes. The next chapter in the healing story. The one I've been avoiding like the plague. It's one thing to feel the release of living through it and quite another to be willing to share it in print. You're still only going to get a sketch with few details on this one, but much of this involved the marriage relationship, and, well, some of it is just going to remain there.

When last I wrote on this topic, I left us in a new career, a new definition of our walk with Christ, a new understanding of who we are to be as the church, a new focus on our family FIRST as our mission field, and a new seeking of the Lord in how we were to proceed in life rather than in "ministry." And I told you that's when things got tough. As if they hadn't already been a struggle. But this was different.

You see, it was like peeling the onion. I know, cliche, but it works here. All of those other things that God had stripped away, revealed, cleansed, and healed had to do with external influences. Teachers, pastors, church members, false doctrines, wounds inflicted... All of it people and things outside of ourselves. Lies that we had internalized and made our own, to be sure, but the pains and hurts were things we could address together; a united front against our enemies, if you will.

Once this was accomplished, though, we had to look each other in the face. And we realized that there were some really deep wounds we had inflicted on each other, too. Talk about a leap of faith. It's terrifying to get honest enough with your spouse that you've been pretending for and hiding from for years to say, "I'm hurt. Badly. And it's you who did it.Oh, and by the way, I'm angry about it." Shoot, it's terrifying to get honest enough with yourself to admit that's the truth. I had spent so long protecting Dan from the attacks of others and trying not to hurt him with my own criticism that it was almost impossible for me to admit, out loud anyway, that a great deal of my pain DID originate from his choice of the ministry over me and the kids. Partly because I felt complicit in that choice. Partly because I had bought into the same lies that led to that choice. Partly because I knew that if I was hurt by those lies, I must have hurt him deeply, too, and I really didn't want to hear that. But was healing worth the price? Worth the risk?

YES! O, my, a thousand times, YES!!! It took place over weeks and months, but there was a definite opening up of ourselves to one another. A growing willingness to say, "I love you, but there's something between us that I can't let stand if we're going to really do this moving forward together thing." It was excruciatingly painful at times. There were tears, arguments, struggles to learn how to communicate lovingly while detailing just what the pain was and how it had affected multiple facets of our relationship. No area was left untouched. When you're married, supposed to be ONE FLESH, and there are unaddressed wounds and masks that never come off, it poisons everything. We had to talk about parenting, finances, career decisions, dreams and hopes unfulfilled, personal affronts, rejections, disrespect, communication, false perceptions, *gulp* even the marriage bed. Both of us had to really listen. Both of us had to humble ourselves and accept responsibility and correction. Both of us had to forgive. And both of us had to let go of it - all of it - and, saddened as we were about it, we had to agree that guilt and condemnation had no place in our marriage any longer. Not toward each other and not toward ourselves.

Praise be to God, He had laid all of the groundwork for those discussions to take place in a marriage that wasn't seeking to do anything but find the truth and work forward together. We didn't WANT to cast blame. We didn't desire to hurt one another more deeply. We wanted to expose the wound, drain off the poison, and heal this thing once and for all. The gangrene ran deep. Honestly, it almost killed the marriage not so long ago. It is God's grace alone, His perfect timing, that allowed us to come to a place of honesty. Of truly beginning to KNOW one another. Of healing.

And, having experienced this level of oneness with my spouse for the first time, it leaves me in awe of Christ's statement that He and the Father are One, and he desires that we be One with Him in the same way. The bring-you-to-tears, speechless, staggeringly indescribable oneness that can exist when a marriage is healed and becomes what it was designed to be is a mere REFLECTION of what the oneness with our God is to be. Can you even wrap around that? Me neither. But I am so thankful to be in a place to really explore what it means. Together with a spouse I love. And trust *fully*. And am excited to know - and be known by - more and more as we journey together.

Now, all of that said, does healing in this area mean that we now have a blissfully happy, no problems marriage? Nope. But we address the problems as they come. We can know for sure that whatever needs to be said will be heard. And that any rebuke/correction we offer one another will be given in love and accepted in love. And that we really are there to uphold one another and offer partnership and strength in the other's weakness. It, like so many other things, is still a work in progress. I suspect it will be until we die. But we're on firm footing again. Rooted in Love, founded in Christ, and learning to walk in truth. It's a good place to be.

Yet Another Aside...

2009-07-02T21:55:00.004-04:00

Okay, so I must be avoiding writing the next chapter of the healing story...

I'll admit to that being somewhat true. I'm going to have to self-edit a *lot* to keep things from being too personal and too lengthy. But, really, I'm finding so many things going along with what I've learned through the healing process and I'm so excited to have affirmation of these things that I'm anxious to share them with y'all.

So, what am I anxious to share today? I came across a real, live, positive news story today in our local paper, The Orlando Sentinel. Yep, they do still write those things occasionally! And it ties in beautifully with the starting point of this humble little blog. Do you remember? It was all about focusing on the "whatsoever things"; those things which are lovely, beautiful, right, true, of good repute, excellent...the "good stuff." The realistic, practical, somewhat-cynical, tell-things-like-they-are side of me never likes to candy-coat things so I have always tended to balk at overly deliberate positive thinking. And yet, I have discovered in scripture that God Himself seems to be pretty positive about what He thinks of us. We are, after all, His handiwork; more than that, we're His chosen children. We are the clay that He has worked into the masterpiece that He sees as already finished. Shoot, He sees us already perfected and seated in the heavenlies in Christ Jesus. That's some pretty positive thinking!!!

But what do we hear/feed ourselves daily? Comparison. Judgement. Insecurity. We listen to the whispered lies of the enemy who accuses us daily of being NOT fearfully and wonderfully made; or at least of having totally botched living up to what we were originally made to be. We begin to actively commisserate with the enemy in self-condemnation - weight, hair, teeth, eye color, accomplishments, education, living arrangements, parenting ability, coping ability, having-it-all-together, self-control, habits, past choices, personal style, areas of talent - all of who we are is up for grabs to be compared, contrasted, and condemned. This seems completely out of line with who we are to be as His daughters. We are called to encourage and edify the saints, to speak to one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, to let no unwholesome word proceed from out of our mouth - that includes in conversation with ourselves!! Why do we participate in the downfall of our own selves?

In the interest of beginning to speak in a Godly, positive, truthful manner to one another (and ourselves) may I recommend that you check out http://www.operationbeautiful.com/? While the precious lady who unintentionally began this simple grassroots movement here in the Orlando area may or may not be a follower of Christ, I venture to say that she is doing more for helping the saints (and those who have yet to choose Christ but whom He loves dearly) to see themselves as their adoptive Daddy sees them than many of the harsh, gossiping, judgemental, sharp tongues in church circles have done in many years. Maybe this is a case of allowing the "profane things of the world to confound the wise" and humbly accept the instruction in truth that is offered here? I will admit that some of the things that are posted do not line up with a Biblical view of ourselves ("You are enough" being the most blatant) but the principle is one that lends itself to consideration and adaptation to Scripture. Let me know what you think...

Aside Knights and Ladies (back to the healing story soon)

2009-06-18T22:40:00.006-04:00

Recently my hubby and I went shopping for clothes together. It's been a LONG time since I got new things and I've lost 20 lbs and several inches in the last months (hooray for a more active lifestyle!!). One of his faves is a simple, straightline sundress with a pretty floral print. Today was the first time I'd worn it. He enjoyed seeing me in it this morning, left for work, and the kids and I ran out for some errands.

The following conversation ensued after I ran into the front office of our RV complex, leaving the oldest in charge of the littles outside:

Me: Okay, y'all, onward to the next stop.
5-yr-old son: Mommy, did any of the boys in there kiss you because you look so beautiful?
Me (trying hard not to laugh): No, sweetheart. Nobody kissed me.
5-yr-old: I think some of the boys wanted to kiss you. Did they?
Me: No, honey. Mommy won't let anybody but Daddy kiss me.
5-yr-old: Good. 'Cuz if they did, I'd punch 'em. Then I'd tie them up and step on them.
7-yr-old: Yeah. We'd all get 'em. Like Indiana Jones! I'd get the whip and...
3-yr-old *girl*: NOBODY gets to kiss you but Daddy and us and Grammy and PopPop and Grandma and Grandpa...and Blackie (that's our dog)...
13-yr-old: {rolling eyes and shaking head whole time}

So, I guess that's a vote for "Mom looks good in the sundress"! Who'd'a'thunk a compliment from a Kindergartener could mean so much?? Left me smiling all day. As did the knowledge that I have a whole band of gallant knights (and one feisty princess) ready to come to my rescue if anyone ever dares to impugne my honor! lol

The Road to Healing, Part III

2009-06-09T18:02:00.010-04:00

So what now?...

What indeed. Have you ever read Pilgrim's Progress? or Hinds' Feet on High Places? Did you notice that each of the main characters, while on their journey, seemed to be feeling their way along? There were helpers that came and went along the way, there were short-term instructions, there were times that they *knew* they were on the path but couldn't really honestly say they could even see which way they were going and certainly couldn't make sense of WHY their path led this way. (when Pilgrim endured the valley and when the called-out one had Sorrow and Pain for travelling companions) Yet, in neither case, did they ever see the whole way that lay ahead of them. Yeah, it's been a lot like that.

And I've come away with a new perspective on the "Thy Word is a lamp unto my *feet*..." verse. Have you ever noticed what a tiny piece of real estate your feet actually occupy?? I know that the rest of the verse goes on to say " a light unto my path" as well, but the two are together and I wonder if my experience is common: the part of the path that is lit is enough to see the next step. No more, no less. In a way, I've become very thankful for this. I used to see it as a frustration; not knowing the whole game plan has always been a struggle for me. More and more, I see it as God's provision for my safety. He knows I'd try to tamper with the plan; try to come up with a better one. Plus, I *have* to learn to trust Him this way. I either stand still, stamp my little lit up feet (laughing as mental pictures of Tinkerbelle dance in my head...) and demand to see what I want to see, what I understand, until I have all my darkness dispelled, or...I choose to walk in the light that He provides, trusting His goodness and His plan although I have no idea what it is, and actually make some progress towards somewhere.

All that in a long-winded attempt to say: what was next was - and continues to be - a long stretch of trial-and-error, pain, hard climbing, straining to see and hear His voice, a good bit of stamping my feet and throwing a fit, and learning to sacrifice on the altar those things that needed to be left aside in order for me to move forward in what little light I had. And, believe me, when everything you've been doing is called into question, there's a precious small circle of light in which you have confidence.

I was at one of those "square one" points. I knew I couldn't continue to drown under these layers of masks. Those had to come off. (what in the world lay underneath? by this point, even I didn't know...) My marriage needed some serious attention. We were both so lonely and wounded and used to handling certain areas of our lives without each other's help. My kids needed to know that they were loved no matter what Mom and Dad were dealing with. And my relationship with my Savior was, well, strained to say the least. What did I believe? *Did* I believe?
(*gasp* yes, the minister's wife said that. In fact, there was a point at which she stood in the hallway, at the end of her rope, after days of emotional grappling, financial hits, kids disobeying, no sleep for days, and the last straw of a child waking up in the night throwing up *all night* due to the distress caused by how he'd been treated at a new church when she was trying so hard to try again at this trusting-church-people thing and *screamed* at God what a sadistic, cruel, sick sense of humor He had. Praise Him, He's big enough to handle that. And He knew that she didn't really believe that about Him, but *she* needed to hear it before she realized that she didn't really believe it. See...it's all about relationship; do you sometimes need to say things out loud to your spouse before you can dismiss them? And in those times, do you find that the intimacy is sweeter in every area precisely because you could be that gut-level, raw-and-out-there honest with them? Yeah, the Biblical picture of our relationship with Christ is as his *bride*. Just a point that's hit home a lot lately.)

God is so good. He knew that none of this work could be done while I was still trying to keep my mask in place for *anyone*. So, he moved us out of any semblance of a titled ministry position. That had also been a point of growth for Dan and I. We realized, long before we got totally honest about other things, that we could not be the people God had called us to be, do the type of ministry to which we were called (which entails being where hurting people actually are, not demanding that they come to us), as long as we also lived under the responsibilities, expectations, and, yes, power structure and organizational model that comes from holding a church staff position. He led us out of that through a series of steps. Again, just enough light at a time for a baby step in the direction He wanted us to go. First, it was out of a full-time staff position into a non-profit, unpaid youth evangelist position that required a side-job at Disney to pay the bills. Then, it was the non-profit plus a part-time staff position (which, we later learned, was as much to ease that pastor's decision to retire as much as it was provision for our growth - we needed to know *for sure* that we needed to stay off staff; isn't God amazing?!). Next, it was a move to Dan's folks' house (no more funds for rent on this kind of sporadic income...), another job search that wound up back at Disney (*one day* before Dan lost his eligibility to be re-hired without going through all the training again...how God is that?? Oh, and his rehire date was April Fool's Day - read into that what you will; it give us a laugh now, though) and in a job where Dan didn't have to be gone late hours and had guaranteed days off. Can you say step one in learning to put our very own family back on the priority list of mission fields?

During this time,we realized that between sharing a house with in-laws and commuting several hours a day, this was *not* good for our family. Since the good of our own little mission field was now an important focus, that led to the step of seeking living arrangements that would be close to Disney and still fit our seriously slim budget. God gave us an opportunity to house-sit for my parents for a month, giving us the privacy to research some options and come to some decisions without *ahem* "input." We quickly found that neither purchasing nor renting a house were possibilities, apartments required too high a security deposit and were rare in a size that would accomodate us...then, we drove by an RV lot one day. You know it's God when *both* of you get excited about the possibility of cramming a family of 6 into an RV. We found one that fit our bedding requirements *and* fell into a price range that was below what we knew we would receive on our income tax return. We were able to pay cash for our "new home" as well as the lot rent for 6 months. The experiment began...we moved to Kissimmee in our 1982 Holiday Rambler Imperial, 33ft, Class A, dream-home-on-wheels. *grin*

Then, it was a series of trying-to-find-a-church-family-where-we-can-be-part-of-the-body-without-being-pressured-to-run-the-programs...not sure that place exists. It's an area we're still grappling with. We now vehemently disagree that the way we live our faith is by maintaining programs that take place in a given locale ; by being, if you will, "Professional Christians". Jesus, His disciples, and the early believers were fishermen, doctors, tax collectors, carpenters, tent makers... and they continued to be so even as they were "meeting from house to house" and "continuing daily together in the apostles' teaching and prayer" and "preaching the Word." They were out there, using their talents to provide financial support for their families - and their ministries - and ministering with their spiritual giftings "as they were going." I strongly suspect that a fisherman held a sphere of influence in which a doctor would be ineffective, and vice versa. God placed them vocationally in places where they would constantly have opportunity to be salt and light in dark and unsavory places. Sadly, in our experience, vocational church staffers have little opportunity to be salt and light to anyone who is "unreligious" because they're spending all their time in church offices, planning meetings, and church social events. We're hard put to find that the giftings of the spirit (pastor, teacher, etc) were ever meant to be used as vocational titles but rather as *functional* operations as the believers were meeting in one another's homes and working together in the community at large around them. Many of our definitions about "the church" and who we are to be as "followers of Christ" have undergone some modifications - sometimes radical - as we search the Scripture and compare it with how those things are played out in America's religious community. As we begin taking our relationship with our Jesus as our own rather than allowing it be dictated to us by those we deemed "more knowledgeable" than ourselves. Phooey. He said He indwells us; He said that His job was to teach us HIMSELF; He said that if we would seek Him, we'd find Him...that doesn't sound like He only reveals Himself to certain "specially gifted" followers of Him.

So, when we were ( or rather, when HE was) ready to tackle some of the more personal growth points, we were already established in a "secular" job (really don't believe in that label anymore, either; as a living, breathing, walking, talking dwelling-place of the Holy Spirit, *any* job is an extension of my spiritual life, but you understand my meaning), living in a place of our own, had stopped attempting to define our walk with Christ by church attendance/leadership and had begun to seek the Lord for ourselves rather than for where He would lead a church program through us.

That's when things got tough...

The Road to Healing, Part II

2009-06-02T21:03:00.008-04:00

What's a girl to do? Short answer: NOT what I did.

What did I do? I listened to teaching because it was coming from people of note, people of great education. But I failed to double-check it for myself. These were folks that had thriving ministries, were holders of high offices, had endured much in the ministry to which I believed we were called. So I soaked in every bit of advice, every stricture on my personality, every social lesson in "how to support your man by being the kind of wife every church wants to see in it's staff." And I didn't realize the chains that were growing tighter and tighter. I didn't see the lie I was buying. Because I trusted too much in people and not enough in the Holy Spirit that says that he will teach *me*. That if *I* seek Him in His Word, He will reveal Himself directly to *me.* Not once did I question that what I was soaking in was truth. And I was busily squashing down my inherent penchant for debate, practicing keeping my mouth shut in *every* situation rather than using discernment and prayer, increasingly relinquishing my status as full partner in my marriage and becoming the "submissive wife."
(Does this strike anyone else as disturbingly similar to the "grooming", the learning to hide their true selves, that our political figures go through to make themselves and their message more palatable to a constituency? Hmmmm...just a side thought there.)

Where did it get me? Or better yet, where did it get my husband who was counting on me? Well, it left him alone, too. He saw who I was becoming, that I was adhering to the "rules of staffdom" and assumed that I wanted the kind of pastor-husband who would be all of those stereotypical things, too. You know, the guy who gets up at 3am to do Bible study, who holds lengthy theological teaching sessions with his wife to instruct her in godliness, who gathers the kids around after dinner for solemn prayer and edification. He tried. Bless his heart, I was just like Eve handing the fruit of the tree to Adam. And he loves me so much that he ate the fruit, too. He desired to be what he perceived I wanted and expected of him. Just as much as I desired to be the kind of wife that I believed he needed on his arm to uphold him and bring him "honor in the gates."

The problem? We gave up who we were. He *isn't* that guy. He's the guy who reads Scripture, meditates on it, and is so full of vision, so discerning of the Spirit that he finds application all throughout the day. It pops up in the most mundane conversations (and sometimes in some of the most intimate ones, too). He reads when he finds time to, prays without ceasing, and seeks to honor God with his WHOLE day, not some rigidly prescribed time period of it that becomes less relationship and more obligation. He's hilarious, slightly irreverent, not one to stand on ceremony or tradition, speaks truth boldly irrespective of his audience (truly a gifted prophet), has the most random access mind that makes the most amazing connections between things, is highly creative, believes in doing everything with excellence, loves more than he lets on, is almost scary in how accurate his discernment always turns out to be, and has fun with life. But he was so frustrated and feeling like a failure because he wasn't "the pastor guy" that he thought I wanted. And, to be honest, being a person who enjoys a formulaic approach (tell me how to do it right, and I'll do it!), I *wasn't* satisfied that he wasn't being those things. I became more and more critical of him (even as I became more critical of myself) because I saw how he was falling short of the picture painted by those renowned men and women of faith.

Oh, and let's not leave me out. I'm not that demure wallflower person, either. You criticize my husband, the words of defensive anger have to be bit back, and even then I'm no success at hiding my thoughts in my facial expression. You try controlling my life or my kids and I rebel in a heartbeat (once heard it accurately described as "Mama Bear Syndrome"). I see injustice or untruth and I am loathe to leave it unchallenged. I am passionate, opinionated, active, intelligent, capable, organized, and willing to dirty my hands to accomplish something I believe is worthwhile. I also am an introvert who enjoys people but can't handle the intensity of being socially around them for long periods of time. I need my alone time. Part of that is because I do care so deeply about the folks around me; it's one of the reasons I *do* make a good minister's wife. But those traits didn't fit the ever-ready hostess, smiling, cheerful, Good Housekeeping picture of a pastor's wife that *other pastor's wives* painted, either. *sigh*

So, we bought the lies. We believed that how God had created us was something less than "fearfully and wonderfully." That if we were to take on this position in the church we not only needed the burden of the call and a close relationship with our Savior, but we also needed a personality overhaul. We needed to be something other than we were. Now, I'm not talking about continuing to grow in grace and increasing in the fruits of the Spirit - that's totally a Biblical concept with which I have no dispute; I'm talking about denying that the personality God gave to you was a GIFT and seeking to become a cookie cutter image created by man in order to hold some office. And, sadly, the more we were involved in church positions, the more this was reinforced by those for whom we served. That cookie cutter image is expected more often than not and when it's not met folks can be downright cruel.

What did all of this do in our marriage? Well, he was busily hiding his failings from me, I was busily hiding mine from him, he was trying to "help" me be the happy homemaker he believed I wanted to be (cutting me out of any partnership in his ministry partly to better hide himself and partly to allow me time to be at home - resulting in my feeling rejected), and I was trying to encourage him to be the superspiritual guy I thought he wanted to be (um, ladies, make sure that your hubby WANTS suggestions on how/when/where to fit in family/personal/couple devotional times before you bulldoze your way into leadership there...). We were both growing more resentful of the inability to be ourselves and the endless criticism from others as to where we were falling short (as if we didn't already know...). We both were enduring deep hurts that we couldn't admit; that would be failing to trust God. We both were growing in anger and resentment at these false rules that we couldn't escape; it was our livlihood and we *were* called by God to minister (notice that we were called to minister...not to BE A VOCATIONAL minister; we've learned that it's a vital distinction). We knew for sure that just as we really couldn't admit dissatisfaction to one another, we also couldn't seek counsel. In the staff environment, seeking marriage counselling is the same as broadcasting that you don't meet the qualification of "having your house in order" and results in loss of a job even as you're trying to salvage your marriage. So we both wandered off into our loneliness, hiding it from one another (not really, but we thought so), and kept pulling up our bootstraps each day to face the next failure.

Sounds like "life and life more abundant" to me, no?

No. So what now? You finally wake up and realize you've been buying into a horrifically destructive lie. It's not what God has for your life. How do you get out of it? When you've all but given up on thinking for yourself (there are committees who do that for you and who oppose you when you try it), and you don't know the last time you really felt the rush of the Spirit as you read the Word; when you've been angry and despondent so long that just having enough energy to feed, bathe, and clothe everyone is a good day; when you can't remember the last time you had a truly honest discussion with your spouse, how do you begin the long road back? How do you sort out the truth from the lies? How do you have confidence you'll even be able to do that?

The Road to Healing (aka the Path of Pain) part I

2009-06-01T11:55:00.007-04:00

Hmmmm...I'm finding it harder to blog these days. Not because nothing interesting is happening; more because I'm so busy actually *living* my life rather than lost in depression and reflection about *how* to live it. The last of the walls have crumbled (Praise God!!) and I'm finally free to live the life God has called me to live.

You'll recall that the beginning of this blog was an accountability thing. A tool to get me to consciously focus on the GOOD that God had brought into my life. Unexpectedly, focusing on that also brought a lot of the ugly to the surface. The more I desired to see the good, the more the hurtful was made apparent. The more I didn't want to focus on my pain, the more God nudged me to DEAL WITH IT, ALREADY! You see, I thought that hiding it, pushing it aside, denying it existed *was* dealing with it. It wasn't. It wasn't even being "spiritually mature" as I had so labeled it. God never asks us to "suck it up and press on". Press on, yes; forget what is behind us, yes. Suck it up, NO!!! Go to your brother before you present your sacrifice. Not let the sun go down on your anger. Bear one another's burdens. Cast your burdens on the Lord. Take His yoke upon you. But He never, ever, ever tells us to suck it up and handle it.

And, so, I find myself in a place of healing. A place where I am finally free to be (and rediscover) who it is that He has created me to be. A place where the direction of this blog changes of necessity. And it occurs to me that many in the church culture may be struggling, drowning, in the same "slough of despond" (yes, I love Pilgrim's Progress) in which I found myself for years. So, perhaps, for a little while, I'll share with you some of how I arrived here. Some of the missteps that happened. So that you may avoid them or at least dig out well before I did.

I've become very guarded over the last several years. Time was when I was very open with pretty well everyone. Very trusting. Naively ready to let you know the core of what I thought, what I believed, who I was. Because I really wanted you to know me. And I really wanted to know you. I was willing to debate my opinion with you because I really thought that my opinion was valid. I had confidence in my intelligence, my talents, my assessment of facts and perceptions of people.

Things happened over time that changed that. Wounds became scars. Confidence in my ability to read others and their intents became blunted. Criticism and ostracism took its toll. And my own lack of understanding why it was happening began to cause me to second-guess myself in many areas. Was I competent? Did I have anything to offer to anyone? Was I a fit wife/mom/homeschooler/minister's spouse? And if I was, why was all this mess happening in my life?

I began to create a protective cocoon around myself into which only a very few people were permitted, and then, never fully. It's a lonely place to be. It's a place where you need help but can't ask for it, knowing that if you do it will lead to more criticism for not being strong enough to do it on your own. Not spiritually mature enough to work it out with the Lord yourself. Not whatever enough to please the accuser. And if you do ask for help, you may be put in a position of negatively affecting your helper's view of another person. But you don't want to cause negativity in anyone else, either, so you paste on a smile, soldier on, and gradually lose who you are under all the layers of facade that protect you.

I lost my ability to see myself as I once had. I began to buy the lies others believed about me: about who I was, what my role was "supposed" to be, what my family "ought to" look like, what my personality/spiritual failings were. I began to live as though their expectations were reality. I stopped being who GOD said I was and began trying to be who "they" wanted me to be. I believed that "fighting back" was pointless and feared its repercussions on my husband's position and respect (which, in itself, was attacked on a regular basis). I resented the circumstances that had put me in this place, was aggravated with myself for allowing myself to be silenced and shoved aside, felt helpless to change anything about it. So I did what all good ministers' wives are taught to do (well, at least those that go to the seminary my husband attended): swallow it (it's called "submission" or "perseverence" or "a quiet spirit" - all terribly solemn and mature and taken out of Biblical context), pretend all was well so as not to affect my husband's position, and quietly fall apart in isolation and depression. But above all, DO NOT ASK FOR HELP FROM ANYONE.

Why not? Because ministers and their families aren't really a part of the body of Christ. They are somehow superspiritual and need no assistance from the rest of the body. God and God alone should be sufficient for them. After all, they've reached the pinnacle of Christianity if they're ordained, right? Their needs and frustrations and failings must not be exposed; if they are, how can the laity ever believe in the spiritual authority of their calling? In short: if you want your husband to keep his job and your family to be supported, by golly, you'd better be perfect. And it helps if you can play piano, too. And dress impeccably (but without vanity or materialism). And have beautiful, groomed, well-mannered children. And host open-houses in a spotlessly-kept domicile. And never lose your temper. And float gracefully through all the criticism leveled at your beloved and his methods. And be *pleased* and *grateful* that committees of people who never got to know you decide every aspect of your life and inform you after the fact: where you will live, what salary you will have to work with (subject to alteration without discussion), what colors may be on your walls, and whether you are spending whatever you have been graciously permitted to earn in a manner of which they approve. And attend all the "right" functions - and enjoy them all. And most importantly, cheerfully and graciously allow - nay, welcome - "churchy" needs to interrupt whatever plans you may have had for family or alone time with your husband; after all, his calling to "the church" (which, by the way, is *not* his calling, but that's another story...) is high and lofty and unassailable and takes precedence over his mere covenant with his wife and responsibility as a father...

I'm not and I don't. God just didn't use that cookie cutter on me. What's a girl to do? Short answer: NOT what I did.

Selah

2009-05-18T21:56:00.004-04:00

What is there to say? When you've been praying and blogging and struggling...and God just up and lifts the burden? When you've been in pain and it's just...GONE? When life is so sweet you almost can't stand it? When you feel like yourself again - the long-forgotten, joyful, adventurous, smiling, laughing, play-in-the-rain-like-a-kid person you used to be...before all the bondage, hurt, anger, bitterness, expectations, betrayals, YUCK happened in your life and made you feel like you were drowning? When the doors to healing fling wide open and you literally feel the burdens of the past fall from your shoulders? When your marriage is more amazing than ever before? When your kids are truly a blessing and you don't have to squint to see how? When you're interested in exploring and growing and being creative again? What do you say?

You don't. You can't. It just is...and you bask in it. And kneel. And cry. And sing. And dance. And sit in silent wonder. And breathe. For the first time in so long...you can finally just breathe...

Put on Your Dancin' Shoes...

2009-05-03T11:29:00.006-04:00

We had a day full of the "whatsoever things" yesterday. And it's proof that God is helping me in this area because there were some definite rough spots. Not little potholes but major construction, sections-of-the-road-missing, type of rough spots. Then I woke up this morning, checked facebook, and one of my new friends had left this gem of a quote, "I believe that no matter what the terrain, our feet can learn to dance." Sigh, smile, tears... Yes. We can choose to dance even when the road seems to be missing under our feet. Yesterday was proof.

Dan had the day off for the first time in over a week. In the mornings all week, we have been spending his before-shift time handling family business. It's been stressful. It's meant dragging kids to office buildings. It's meant rushing to get Dan to work on time after the morning stuff was finished. It's meant begging kids to be quiet so we could handle phone calls. We needed a break. In our family, that means a day at Disney. Not so much because we love it that much but because we can spend a whole day there letting the kids run and nobody cares how wild they are. Oh, yeah, and the fact that it's free helps.

So, up we get in the morning, feed everyone, get everyone dressed, check email...
Bump in the road #1 - an email is there telling me that my Grandmother, who lives in Massachusetts has gone in for surgery and that it didn't go well. They lost her on the table, brought her back, and moved her to ICU with the surgical wound still open and in an induced coma. Quick phone calls to my parents (who are, by the way, on vacation with my other grandparents in North Carolina) to see what's going on, if this is affecting their vacation. Nobody's sure yet...wait and see...

Okay, that gets taken care of. Niggling in the back of the mind but there's nothing I can do at this point, so on we go with our day. Pile everyone in the car and off we go.

We hit Hollywood Studios first. Our 5-year-old loves the stunt car show there, so we went there first. GREAT show, everyone was happy, and on we went to the Jedi Training Academy. Great again. Star Tours ride - awesome. Lunchtime: Dan gets in line, I take the kids to get a seat.
Bump #2: They begin to bicker, they hit each other across the table, it gets loud. I ask them to stop. Please. Nicely. Not-so-nicely. Downright angrily. They don't. My phone beeps that I have a message. It's from my dad. I can't take it right now. My kids are out of control.

Dan arrives with the food and magically (this is Disney, after all) the kids turn their attention to eating rather than fighting. This means that I can inhale my meal, ditch the kids with Dan, and go call my dad back.
Bump #3: In the middle of a Disney day with my family, I learn that my Grandmother (we call her Aunt Millie because she's Grampa's 2nd wife and was 'too young to be a Grandma' when they married...she's a trip...) has passed away. She went in for routine surgery to clear a blockage in her intestine and never woke up again. While my parents are on vacation. This is especially hard because we lost my Grampa in December - again while my parents were on their first-ever vacation to Germany to see my brother. Dad feels like vacation is jinxed. Which is bad because he just retired in February, and he and mom have a LOT of vacation planned. Tears in the middle of Disney feel very out of place.

Okay, off the phone, have to return to the table. Dan knows what has happened from my face. Without even speaking, we agree to hold off on telling the kids. I'd lose it if I tried to speak, anyway. We finish lunch, then head toward the boat that will take us to Epcot.

Once we arrive at Epcot, we decide to see if Soarin' is too long a wait and if everyone is tall enough yet to do it. Yes. We can all ride and the wait is only about 45 minutes. We get in line. Then our Asperger's baby begins to anticipate and get fearful. This could get *really* bad. He's covering his ears and beginning to whimper. Dan snuggles him and talks calmly, he allows me to describe the ride so he knows what's going to happen in advance. Blessedly, he catches hold of the fact that one of the landscapes is a city center. He asks if there are stores. Yes. Are there any that sell Jell-O? I don't know; we'll have to look really closely as we fly over...tragedy averted. He relaxed; we had a great ride.

After that little triumph, the 6-year-old had a bird poop on his foot. While I took him to get cleaned up, Dan kept the others on the walkway. The 5-year-old asked if Daddy had a little money in his wallet to buy ice cream. He can't have ice cream. Dairy and him is a bad combination. A nice grandfather-type overheard the question and asked if my little guy wanted ice cream. After ducking behind Daddy, he quietly answered that he would like ice cream. At which the well-meaning grandpa type handed him $5 and told him to go get ice cream.
Bump #4: We have 4 kids. Five dollars won't buy 4 kids ice cream at Disney, and the one that had the cash can't *have* ice cream.

After allowing the man to have the joy of being generous to our kiddo, we were left to figure out how to manage the consequences. PRAY!!! We fortunately had a little cash with us (unusual for us; we bring our own snacks) and were able to allow each child to choose a treat. And the 3 little guys allowed their choices to be narrowed to the non-dairy items and WERE HAPPY with the swirly-colored popsicle.

Onward to Test Track where we replayed the Soarin' scenario, only with much more vehement whimpering and clinging. He was calmed by going through the pre-show area which features all kinds of test equipment used in vehicle manufacture. The more he became engrossed in the mechanics, the more relaxed he became. Then it came time to board the cars.
Bump #5: Our faster-than-us 5-year-old darted THROUGH the ride car and almost out the other side. Dan got a hand on him, plopped him back in the car, and buckled him in. Have you ever watched faces on other folks as you buckle a tantrumming 5-year-old into a ride because *you* know that he just has to be encouraged past his fear? *You* know that a vital part of your role as parent to this particular child is to help him recognize safe situations and re-wire his thinking to quell the overreactive flight response? Maybe someday I'll become immune to the shaking heads and disapproving whispers. Maybe. He whimpered through the seat-belt check, then had a BLAST on the ride. Came off disappointed because "I didn't even get to drive; the car does everything for you." This morning, he woke up describing his favorite parts of it and is currently building his own test track in the living room.

We ended up the night at Spaceship Earth and actually let the kids play in the futuristic arcade at the end. We never do that.

All through this, the 13-year-old didn't get involved in the parenting or the fight; the 6-year-old went along with NOT going on the ride he asked about; the 5-year-old didn't completely break down beyond our ability to work with him; the 3-year-old WALKED THE WHOLE DAY, and while there were moments of tears, it was also a great family day. It's the first time that the whole family has been able to go on every ride all together. There has always been a problem with height restrictions or meltdowns. Not yesterday.

We found a way to dance over the terrain. It wasn't easy. It took teamwork and shoring up each other's weak spots. There was even some clinging to our partner for dear life. But our feet learned.

An Ounce of Perspective

2009-04-20T13:20:00.007-04:00

I've got 3 posts sitting in my drafts folder that I just couldn't bring myself to publish. Why not? They're well-written, they're full of the realities of this journey, they're a great look into the process...and they're so whiny even I can't stand it. They're full of figuring out how I got to this place personally/financially/spiritually, hashing through some of the hurts that still bring an unexpected sting, stumbling around the recesses of my mind trying to find the sense in what God may be doing with all of this, blah, blah, blah... Sometimes the Lord just holds you back from putting something out there until you've seen some of the end of the process (or at least *this step* in the process). Until He gives you some perspective.

Some perspective came into my life today. Of course, it has done it while I'm cooking lunch and I'm afraid that all the insight will be watered down if I wait too long to dump it from my brain to the page, so I'm multitasking here. Which probably means the kids will be eating burnt lunch today...

Anyway, I looked out my kitchen window and saw the most beautiful thing...check out the pic:

It's a gorgous lily, isn't it? Nobody planted it. It just volunteered there. I even asked the neighbor. Nope, he didn't do it. Wow. What a blessing. Right in front of my face, this beautiful reminder of the surprises that God puts into our lives; totally unexpected, arriving overnight, sneaking up on you when you least expect it, and in dazzling, full-on,wide-open glory.

Now, let me show you the "perspective shots" that happened when I went out to get that close-up. Look at the environment in which this amazing flower "VOLUNTEERED."

The soil conditions: Not the choice, rich, dark soil you'd expect; just plain old Florida sand with a healthy sprinkling of weeds.

The weather conditions: Impending storm rolling in. And this IS Central Florida, so you can expect them *every* afternoon for the forseeable future.

The immediate environment: Those of you unfamiliar with RVing will not realize the significance of that hose in the background. That's the sewer dump line. Yep, this little plant VOLUNTEERED to live right by that. Ponder the fullness of that for a bit...

Hmmmmm...maybe this incredibly beautiful flower is NOT just a metaphor for the surprises God gives His kids. Maybe it's a humbling picture of who His kids are supposed to be willing to be. Rooted in simple ground - not the best by worldly standards but sufficient to support life. Content to be outdoors - blooming happily, not stubbornly refusing to open up - when the winds bluster and the rains fall, knowing it's going to be nearly incessant. Standing tall, straight, and beautiful right alongside the most disgusting, rancid, foul waste imaginable.

Maybe I need to stop whining already and accept my surroundings, the fact that the bugs will nibble on me and the birds will fly over and probably leave presents on my leaves; maybe it's enough that God created me to be beautiful here. Despite the environment. Despite the incessant, every day storms that roll in. Despite the sewer line that is my neighbor (there's a whole other metaphor there for loving your neighbor as you love yourself but I'll let you go there on your own...). Maybe my life is spectacular - it's just that it's hard to see that when you're a flower who has no eyes to see how beautiful you are and whose face is always lifted up toward the sky to drink in the sun and the rain and whatever else may fall.

Oh, yeah, that lily outside my window has a LOT to teach me...

AWARD!

2009-04-10T21:26:00.004-04:00

What a nice thing to find on my return to the land of the living! After sickness that had me in bed and internet problems that kept me offline, I find that the newbie blogger has received an award from her sweet friend Sweet Jenn. Here's the problem: I have *no* idea how to link back to her site! Maybe some of you vets can give me some advice. But I'll play along and list 7 things I love (and I'll try to avoid the obvious ones of my hubby, etc!)

1. I adore sitting at a window watching lightening fork through the sky, counting the seconds until the peal of thunder, hearing the rain pound on the roof, sipping a cup of tea. (yes, I know it's not safe to sit at a window during a thunderstorm but you learn that the beauty is worth the risk when you grow up in the lightening capital of America! Well, worth *some* risks; you'll NEVER catch me on the phone or in anywhere near a running faucet during a good storm!)

2. I love sitting on the dock by the riverside watching the wave patterns, the mullet jumping, the pelicans fishing, and the dolphins playing.

3. I love the look on my kids' faces when they really *get* something for the first time. That "aha" moment.

4. I love the sound of four kids breathing deep, even breaths as they sleep in the next room.

5. I love New York style cheesecake and chocolate covered strawberries.

6. I love finding new places to explore - woods, forests, beaches, lakes - getting out there and stomping through the unknown is so fun!

7. I love the feeling after a really good cleaning session. You know the house won't look or smell that way for 5 minutes but it's golden while it lasts!

So, there you have it. Thanks, Jenn, for the sweet award. Sorry I'm too inexperienced to follow all the steps. Chalk it up to another learning curve in life!!!

I'm slipping....

2009-04-05T17:05:00.004-04:00

Two posts in one day...something must be happening:

I'm sympathizing with that poor little pupa who had to scale a glass vase to reach the place where it could cling and complete it's transformation. I watched him through the process. He'd climb, then slide, then climb some more and anchor himself with a bit of silk, rest a while, then climb, then slide, then anchor himself, ad infinitum. The key, I suppose, was that each time he remembered to anchor himself and he continued on. He never slipped farther back than his last anchor point. (something akin to the rocks of testimony piled in the wilderness by the Isrealites? hmmmm...) So, here I am, spinning some silk to the surface of that vase.

Today has been a gradual slide from this morning's "beginning to see" post. I've dealt with both a migraine and the onset of some kind of allergy-induced sinus drip/sore throat/general yuckiness. And, in equal proportion, the kids have lost their sense of cooperation. This, of course, happened on the one day this week that Dan is working open to close. My runner has climbed out through the front window, sped down the street and holed himself up in the bathhouse. My little princess has deliberately removed her panties and peed on the floor. My most mature helper has refused to back off of bossing the little ones around and has incited near-riot conditions with his strutting and demanding. My "middle kid" has been belligerent and has tried to elbow anyone who crossed him (because Mom's smart enough to catch an outright punch but would never spot a sneakily delivered elbow jab...right). And I've been the paragon of virtue and strength and right attitudes and gently corrected each and every infraction. Ummm...or I became a shrieking shrew. One of those.

So, let's see...true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, of good repute, excellent, worthy of praise. Where is it?

...my runner didn't head for the main road this time. He stopped at the bathhouse and came back home willingly...without climbing the ladder to the roof. Praise you, Lord, that's an improvement in his response.

...Miss princess chose a spot that was linoleum rather than carpet. And she did at least remove the panties so those won't have to be washed.

...Mr. Bossy was indeed doing what he was doing in an attempt to keep things "under control" so I could rest and get feeling better. His heart of service and compassion was the motivator; he just wouldn't listen to my instructions on *how* to handle things. Thank you, Lord, for a growing young man who wants to honor His mother. Please give me patience as I teach him methods to best express his heart and give him a teachable spirit.

...Mr. Belligerent is attempting to back off on his tendency to be violent. Not so long ago, he wouldn't have cared whether I saw a punch or not; he would've been happy to take the discipline if he got to have the fun of socking the person who deserved it. He's a work in progress, too, and I need to recognize his progress. And, again, his violence was triggered by misbehavior by the siblings; he was trying to get them to stop bickering and didn't use the best tools to accomplish that.

*sigh* Much like my shrieking wasn't exactly the best tool, either. The lovely thing here? God brought me up short, sent me running to Him, and has me posting here to refocus on Him instead of continuing in my rant. And I'm already seeing the result of His Word working in me as I seek to find Him in this. My blood pressure is down, I'm formulating my apology to the kiddos for my part in this slide backwards, and the enemy hasn't been able to get me to give up on the climb. Okay, here we go, back up the side of the vase again...

Beginning to see...

2009-04-05T07:22:00.003-04:00

Isn't it exciting when you begin to see God working? When you start to feel the scales fall from your eyes? It's beginning. Just a few days into this conscious choice to dwell in the "whatsoever things" and I'm beginning to see with new eyes. Praise You, Lord, Your Word is indeed living, powerful, and effective!!!

May I share a few examples?
*In the last several days, I have not once described the day as "horrible" or the kids as "bad." I know, that's small, but I've been able to see the challenges as temporary things that ARE able to be worked through rather than permanent conditions under which I must labor on...

*Despite the fact that we had a pretty dramatic Asperger's tantrum yesterday, I was able to walk away from dealing with it (which is exhausting both emotionally and physically) quietly encouraging my son that he had done great in getting himself back under control. It only lasted about 30 minutes this time; it's been known to go on for close to an hour...

*My laundry has gone unfolded for 2 days. Why is this a good thing? It's gone unfolded because I've been focusing on enjoying my time with my family, exploring the blooming bouganvilla bushes, marvelling at the blue jays and cardinals that are visiting us, teaching them to swim, LISTENING to their wonderful imaginative stories, encouraging them to have fun with math and reading and learning, singing with them and being spontaneously silly together. My priorities are getting back to where they should be and I've been able to let go of the perfectionistic demands without becoming condemning towards myself.

It's beginning to happen. I'm beginning to not just grudgingly admit that there must be *something* good that happens each day. I'm starting to see the beauty as it happens, revel in it, glorify God and set aside some of those weights that have easily beset me in the past. I used to love a certain David Crowder song because I needed the perspective it offered; I'm beginning to love it even more now because I'm beginning to live its truth:

The day is brighter here with You

The night is lighter than its hue

Would lead me to believe

Which leads me to believe

You make everything glorious

I am Yours...

So what does that make me?

My eyes are small but they have seen

The beauty of enormous things

Which leads me to believe

There's light enough to see

You make everything glorious

I am Yours...

So what does that make me?

New URL - Lovely!

2009-04-04T13:32:00.001-04:00

So, the history here is that I've had a blogspot account for a while. I first opened it solely for the purpose of being able to track some blogs of my friends. But then, well, God intervened and here I am posting. The problem was that I had selected a meaningless url just to have access. Now that I'm actually pouring out the words that God is giving and the experiences He's teaching me through, meaningless became aggravating.

Being new to actually using the apps here, I had no idea if I could even change this. I began asking for help - in the "help" tab of all places! Do you know what I found? A simple answer. An easily achieved fix for my problem. Now, I know, life's not always like that. Sometimes there is simply not an easy answer. Sometimes there's a complicated series of steps. Sometimes there's a lot of research and trial-and-error. Sometimes there's no discernable answer short of accepting things as they are and trusting God's hand in it. But sometimes, when we drop our pride, confess our weakness and ignorance, and actually ask somebody, God has the opportunity to use other people in our lives to grow us, strengthen us, and move us farther ahead than we could go on our own.

Isn't it a beautiful thing that He has given us the body of Christ? We are blessed and empowered through the Holy Spirit and we are edified, built up, encouraged, spurred on by our extended family. How often do we neglect that gift? How frequently are we so afraid of appearing weak among our own family, terrified of judgement or rejection, intent upon maintaining the facade that we hide our faults, "handle" our problems alone and wind up isolated from the very source of help that the Lord wants to use in our lives?

Father, forgive my foolishness and fear; teach me to cry out not only to You - the place from whence comes my help - but also to my family in which You have placed me. Help me also to remember that my family - Your family - is made up of people. They are not YOU, they are not perfect, and sometimes they may fail, too. Your grace covers each one of us. Now that falls under the category of "worthy of praise!"

Practicing "Dwelling" is hard...

2009-04-03T12:56:00.003-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about the phrase "dwell on these things." It doesn't say "remember to glance at them once in a while" or "take a walk around them then go back to what you were doing" -- it says "dwell." As in "make your habitation in" or "hang out in" or "live there." Dwell.

That's really hard. When your child with Asperger's is huddled in a corner with his hands over his ears screaming "everybody hates me." When you sit down to pay the bills and there just isn't enough to go around and you've been trying to get a 2nd job but nobody's hiring. When you find out that one of your kids has been cheating on school assignments and you now have to figure out how to redeem the time without totally crushing the child - even though you kinda feel like crushing him just a little bit. When a storm rips the awning off your house and that awning provided the shady playspace for the kids that allowed you to get a few moments of uninterrupted work time in the house.

But that's not where I'm supposed to dwell because those things are anything but lovely or of good repute, although they are true. Maybe there's a deeper truth in them that I'm supposed to dwell in. Maybe the lovely, good thing is that my child can verbalize that he thinks everybody hates him; many other kids with his same condition can't express that at all. I have an inroad into his mind and am able to interact and counteract that kind of thinking. I am blessed. Maybe the thing that is worthy of praise is that God has provided for us so that we are still fed and clothed and together under one roof. Maybe the pure and honorable thing is that when confronted, my child told the truth about his cheating, was broken when he realized that it wasn't just about the work but about the broken trust, has repented and is submitting to discipline and correction. And the lovely thing is that God held my tongue enough to let me correct and train without belittling and demeaning. Maybe the truth is that awnings are replacable (according to finances, of course...) and while the storm destroyed an outdoor luxury it didn't affect the roof over our heads that keeps us protected from the elements.

Dwell on these things. Live there. Choose to see the circumstances around you for what they REALLY are, not for what they feel like on the surface. And what are they really? They are opportunities to press closer into Christ, to ask Him to respond in His way through you because you just don't see the lovely in it, to have Him open your eyes to what was hidden, to learn what it means to give thanks in everything. An opportunity to pull a Paul and Silas and sing your heart out in the middle of a dark, dirty, poor, infested prison cell. And to really mean it. Because you've dwelt in the lovely to the point of understanding that GOD HIMSELF INHABITS - dwells in, shows up in, makes His presence clearly seen and felt, is powerful to move in - THE PRAISES OF HIS PEOPLE. When we choose to dwell where we're supposed to, we find ourselves dwelling in the same place as God.

Beautiful things

2009-04-01T22:05:00.004-04:00

Do you see that butterfly? I watched him from caterpillar through pupa to chrysallis to fully emerged Gulf Fritillary. He doesn't look great in the image on my title page - kinda brown and tired - nothing special and pretty worn out. He had just emerged. But, oh, when he spread those wings and the sun glinted off of those irridescent white spots! The brilliant orange with black markings of the tops of his wings became visible and his grace and ease of flight was breathtaking.

The journey was treacherous. As a caterpillar he was jolted from his feeder passion vine when the neighbor took hedgetrimmers to it. He was "rescued" (along with 3 of his buddies who didn't make it) by two curious little boys with sticks who found him crawling around in the dirt. He was transplanted from outdoors to a glass vase. He became dependent on the food and water provided by novice caretakers. His climb up the side of that glass vase to get himself attached on that stick was agonizingly slow and difficult; he kept slipping backwards. Once he was attached, the contortions he had to go through to get his chrysallis spun while hanging upside-down with his spinners at his mouth were worthy of the most adept acrobat. And that chrysallis - symbol of change and transformation - hardened into the ugliest, driest, most uncomfortable-looking habitation ever. His emergence was not sudden; it took place over hours of work, bit by bit, requiring rest and rejuvenation throughout the process. And when he did spread his wings? Well, that was hours again after full emergence from the chrysallis. His wings and antennae had been so crushed against him inside that they had to slowly unfurl, become strengthened, become attuned to the environment around him. But when he finally flew, it was with confidence, grace, beauty, absolute jubilation.

It has become glaringly apparent that I'm in one of those stages. I'm still not sure if it's the terrified caterpillar thrown from its vine; the struggling pupa being inexpertly fed; the dry, cracked, unattractive chrysallis; or the beginning-to-emerge strengthening period. Sometimes I think I go through the whole process daily. What I am sure of, though, is that if I focus on the struggle, the dryness, the hardship, the pain of those wings being pinned in there, I'll never see what I'm becoming. I'll never be jubilant and glorifying to my Creator for Who He is and what He has accomplished in me. It is for this reason that I'm beginning this blog. I need to be accountable to see the beauty in this process of becoming who my God has created me to be. I too often feel the pain, am surrounded by the dryness, am insensitive to the soft sunlight and refreshing breeze due to my poor crushed antennae.

But that doesn't mean it's not there. The beauty and glory, I mean. I just need to work at seeing it. I need to look past what I feel, the confusion and newness of it all, the pain and seeming endlessness, the utter lack of control over my own circumstance, and see the TRUTH of what is happening. In me and in those I love. And so, I choose to obey Philippians 4:8. "Whatsoever things are TRUE, whatsoever things are HONORABLE, whatsoever things are RIGHT, whatsoever things are PURE, whatsoever things are LOVELY, whatsoever things are of GOOD REPUTE, if there is any EXCELLENCE and if anything is WORTHY OF PRAISE, DWELL ON THESE THINGS. You're welcome to join me as I choose to exercise the mind of Christ in this area. Maybe, just maybe, if I choose to think like He does, I'll begin to see what He does, too. And my world will expand beyond daily chores, endless correction of the same things, struggles with finances, struggles with children, thwarted plans and instead become an ever-more-revealed emergence of a gorgeous, graceful, joyous creation of the most masterful Artist ever.

Practice Makes Peace...

Bookmark Today

Well, Thank You, But... (an Open Letter to My Nurses)

Ponderable...

Out of the Mouths of Babes

My Brain...

Excuse Me? I Need a Tour Guide for Switzerland.

Be Still

Mixed Emotions...

Woooohoooo!!!

The Race...

Intimate Relationship

Generation/Vocabulary Gap

Milestones and AHA! Moments

I'm Listening. Oh, How You Speak...

W.A.I.T. Get It? Good.

Yes, Ma'am.

More Pieces of the Puzzle

Giddy Praise and a Few Puzzle Pieces

Wait.Now Go.

Fear. Evil. Death.

Brief Revisitation...

Breathe In...Breathe Out...

Grace - Marvelous Grace

Melodramatic

Sabbath

Teacher? Student?

Resurrection: to make alive that which was dead

Free Range vs. Fear Filled

In Pursuit of Perfection

Torn

It's a Personal Thing

Northward, Ho, The Wagons!

It Could've Been a Screenplay...

Balance...

A Friend Said it Better...

*Sigh*

'Tis a Gift to be Simple, 'Tis a Gift to be Free...

I'm NOT God.

Rude Awakening

His Eye is on the Sparrow

How Do You Respond to That?

Happy Birthday to Me!

The Road to Healing - Fin.

Yet Another Aside...

**Aside** Knights and Ladies (back to the healing story soon)

The Road to Healing, Part III

The Road to Healing, Part II

The Road to Healing (aka the Path of Pain) part I

Selah

Put on Your Dancin' Shoes...

An Ounce of Perspective

AWARD!

I'm slipping....

Beginning to see...

New URL - Lovely!

Practicing "Dwelling" is hard...

Beautiful things

Sigh

Aside Knights and Ladies (back to the healing story soon)