Hope, personified...

It's meant to be a reflective day, this final day of the year. Three hundred and sixty-five days ago we were all doing the same thing--being contemplative.
Perhaps some of us spend the day reflecting on the year that is finishing, and all we've survived. Some years are like that, aren't they? If you journal (or blog) it's fascinating to look back and view the trail of events throughout the months. In my reflection, I am always surprised to see what I survived, and how God truly walked me through things that I'm glad I didn't know we're coming. I might have run for the hills had I known in advance! But, I see His hand throughout, holding me close.

I took a look at photos on weather.com of the disasters from 2011. Wow! It was an eventful year! It made me thankful. Thankful that my family is together and safe.

I truly write from a thankful heart. Each moment of each new day, there is so much to be thankful for.

Though it is interesting to look back, I find it much more intriguing to look ahead. Though I can't see what's coming, I am full of hope--eager to see what amazing things God has in store.
I have a precious little Jack Russell named Lily who is hope, personified. Well, I'm not sure I can use the word "personified" about a dog, but you get the point.

She is so smart! If she hears me open the veggie drawer in the fridge and get out the veggie peeler, she will come running from across the house hoping that I'm peeling carrots--a messy job for me which means scraps for her. She also knows the sound of the cheese grater (another messy job), and just let me open a rotisserie chicken, or pull one out of a pot to take the meat off! How she can wait for hours with hope blooming in her little doggy heart waiting for one little possible morsel of chicken fat is beyond me. Nothing can distract her. She waits expectantly.

That is how I look forward to 2012. The outcome is unclear at this point. I don't know the events that will unfold. I do, however, believe deep in my very soul that God has amazing plans in store for me. That at the end of this year, I will see the bumps in the road that I have traveled over the year, but more importantly, I will see how I was delivered into a place of gratefulness knowing that I was taken care of. Because I always get much, much more than just a carrot peeling or a chicken scrap. I have feasted on blessings too numerous to count.

I have set some goals for the upcoming year. Not resolutions. Though I appreciate the concept of making a resolution, In the past, I have lacked the resoluteness to follow through. So I've set some goals. Things I want to learn. Ways in which I'd like to be better. To start, I have been memorizing Scripture. I leave you with a portion I've been memorizing this week. May it stir your heart with gratitude as it has mine.

Psalm 139

 1 O LORD, You have searched me and known me.
 2 You know my sitting down and my rising up;
         You understand my thought afar off.
 3 You comprehend my path and my lying down,
         And are acquainted with all my ways.
 4 For there is not a word on my tongue,
         But behold, O LORD, You know it altogether.
 5 You have hedged me behind and before,
         And laid Your hand upon me.
 6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
         It is high, I cannot attain it.
         
 7 Where can I go from Your Spirit?
         Or where can I flee from Your presence?
 8 If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
         If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.
 9 If I take the wings of the morning,
         And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
 10 Even there Your hand shall lead me,
         And Your right hand shall hold me.
 11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall fall on me,”
         Even the night shall be light about me;
 12 Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You,
         But the night shines as the day;
         The darkness and the light are both alike to You.
         
 13 For You formed my inward parts;
         You covered me in my mother’s womb.
 14 I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
         Marvelous are Your works,
         And that my soul knows very well.
 15 My frame was not hidden from You,
         When I was made in secret,
         And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
 16 Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
         And in Your book they all were written,
         The days fashioned for me,
         When as yet there were none of them.
         
 17 How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!
         How great is the sum of them!
 18 If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand;
         When I awake, I am still with You....
         
         
 ...23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
         Try me, and know my anxieties;
 24 And see if there is any wicked way in me,
         And lead me in the way everlasting."

A sad day, indeed

We said "Good-bye" today to our kitty. Seventeen and a half years ago we took in our very first pet--a precious gray and white kitten. In that much time (almost half of my life!), we enjoyed a legend and his many lives--far more than nine!

This was our cat who was declawed as a kitten and then decided he wanted to live outside as well as in. Our cat who terrorized neighborhood dogs ten times his size.
He climbed trees and ladders and played on rooftops. He hunted daily and brought us those yucky, dead animal treasures--all with no claws.

(This picture was taken just a few months ago as, at age 17, he waited for hours to catch some little creature. Eventually, he fell asleep on duty.)

When we moved across town, he moved with us and then came up missing. After about three days we found him on the front porch of our old house, surely wondering where his family had gone. How a cat found his way several miles back "home" is a bit of a mystery. We retrieved him and then it seemed he understood and stayed put to learn his new neighborhood.

He took naps in the middle of the road.
He got into fights with raccoons, opossums, squirrels, dogs, and other cats. From his battle wounds we got to see his insides several times--science class, right? We pulled at least a dozen ticks of our little feline.

He survived the acquisition of three more cats and two dogs to our family, and upon every new pet's arrival, he would just look at us like, "Really? We're doing this again?!"
He chased my kids when they were toddlers, and bit their little bottoms, and then snuggled with them on the couch.
He learned how to open round, metal doorknobs out of sheer determination, and even unlock doors when desperate enough.

He was truly the stuff kitty legends are made of, and we loved him dearly.

Loving a pet brings an awful lot of joy. And it brings tough days like today. Days that make you wonder about the worth of inviting love and the inevitable pain it brings in.
Life is like that, isn't it? The deeper we love, the greater the risk, reward, and then unfortunately, sometimes the pain. Makes you wonder about the guy who stated that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
And then you don't.

At the end of the day, Rajah's Christmas ornament got hung at the top of the tree, and after some reminiscing and some tears, a couple of parents are wondering when we got old enough to handle the tough stuff like this.
And life goes on.
And we keep it all in perspective because, though this wasn't our favorite day, we are healthy and have more pets to love, and a whole family as well.

And, as strange as it sounds, it reminds me of a certain rhythm that life has. And that God is in control and knows and sees and cares--even about the little things that matter more than a little to our hearts.

And what a beautiful thing it is when hurting hearts are drawn together.

Spoiled rotten

Amidst all the hurry and scurry and buying and wrapping and baking and planning and parties and noise that is Christmas, there are some things running around in my brain. Maybe it's because I'm not doing much of these things this year, rather watching it all happen around me. 
As I have already shared in a blog about Christmas, we pare it wayyyy down around here. In fact, the only Christmas presents given this year are one per family member given via Secret Santa. With a small dollar limit, we all have had to get creative and thoughtful to buy for one person in this house. I can hardly wait to see who has who and what everyone came up with.

As a family, we were talking about the perception children have of their family's financial status. When our kids were little, money was often tight, but we did our very best to never let them know that. In fact, recently one of ours said they thought we were rich because of how many toys were in the toy room! 
The other day, Justin said that once, as a little boy, he had eaten stuffed crust pizza and heard it was more expensive than regular pizza so in order to never ask too much--though it was his favorite--he never asked for it again. We never knew this, and how much he loved it, so we never bought stuffed crust until recently, and now he eats it like he may never have it again. ;o)

I remember feeling guilty as a child because I needed a winter coat. I had heard my mom approach my dad with this need, and I can vividly picture the whole scene as my dad struggled with how to tell my mom he didn't really have the money for that. As a result, I tried very hard not to need too much.

We also talked the other day as a family about kids we have observed who get anything and everything they want.

Spoiled: to do harm to the character, nature, or attitude of by oversolicitude, overindulgence, or excessive praise.
Rotten: made weak or unsound by rot

Eventually, given all we want, we become rotten, and it has the potential to ruin us.

Have you watched the newest version of Willy Wonka lately? Next time you do, observe the different faces of the spoiled rotten. There is the over-indulged child whose weight reflects his need to stuff his face with all the junk he can fit in, and his mommy loves to watch him eat it all. There is the picture-perfect wealthy girl who demands from her Daddy, "I want it now!", and he gives it to her. It goes on and on...

"A happy childhood has spoiled many a promising life."--Robertson Davies

I've been guilty of buying my kids things to try to show them love. Haven't we all at some point? But, isnt the real trick to balance that desire for them to HAVE with teaching them to appreciate what they've been given? 
From an early age, we have taught our three to work for what they have. They all found ways to earn money and they save their money and buy their own cars and pay for their own gas and cell phones. 
Since this is not exactly typical, there have been times where we felt like really mean parents as our kids have had older cars than their friends and tracfones instead of iPhones. It's really not easy telling your kids, "no," is it? But, now, I have to say, the pay-off is bigger than I can imagine as I have hard-working, responsible kids who appreciate the things they have earned and know how to save money.
At times, I'm sure our kids felt like we were unfair, but now, they thank us for teaching them that money doesn't, in fact, grow on trees. I am quite sure that there was never a moment where our kids felt less loved than the other kids because we didn't hand them everything. They have always known that we just don't show love that way.

Do we, as parents, equate how much we give our children with how much we love them? Do they judge our love for them by how much they have? 

Is my standard for how loved I am directly related to what I think I deserve from someone? Who, then, determines what the standard is?
If I don't get the things I want, am I not very loved, after all?

Okay, now flip all this and think about how you and I behave with God.
He gives and gives and gives...ad infinitum...
We take and take and take...ad nauseum...and want more and ask for more and think we deserve more. And the minute things don't go the way we think they should, we figure we must not be loved that much after all.  Because what kind of God would say "no" to those He says He loves? What kind of Father would teach His children through discipline instead of spoiling them rotten with all the things they are sure are the best for them?
How many of us are the girl demanding from her Daddy, "I want it now!"?
How quickly we make God's love conditional and return ours to Him based on conditions!

I heard a song the other day. It really got me thinking. Some of those things we are sure we want and that we pray for may not be the best that God has for us. After all, His view of our little lives may just include a bit more perspective. As much as I think I want or need something, it may not be the very best for me. 

What if I'm so busy living for right now that I miss the whole, big picture? 

The truth is, most times I do feel spoiled by my God. He has truly been so good to me. Anything I have that is good has come from His hand. But, now, I rethink the word spoiled. That is not what I want to be. Basking in His grace and washed in His love. Grateful for His favor. Yup, that's more like it.
And when the metaphorical rain falls, He has a plan for me--much greater than what I can see. His promises are enough for me to hold on to.

Please, take five minutes and listen to this song. As a gift to me, please listen to this song, and tell me what you think.

Why Am I Here, Anyway?

“Spread the love of God through your life but only use words when necessary.” ― Mother Teresa

I got a tough phone call yesterday. It was from my cousin and she was calling to tell me that her mom, and also my favorite aunt, is quite ill. The doctors have said that she is full of cancer. I hate diagnoses. They don't leave much room for hope, do they? Unless, of course, you realize that just because it's said doesn't make it so. There always has to be room for God to do His thing no matter what any man says.

Anyway, this shook me up a bit. Here's why.
To say that my family was dysfunctional may just be the understatement of the year. On both my mother's and my father's side, there are a couple dozen messes. So much so that there were never family get-togethers to speak of, no one spent holidays together, or if they did, my immediate family was not involved.
Most on my mother's side do not speak to each other and haven't for as long as I can remember--that family is completely splintered. In short, if I had lived in Tennessee once upon a time, I may have been named Hatfield or McCoy.
My dad had four brothers. Put them together and they looked like they were mafia brothers.

(My dad (Ralph), Uncle Marv, Uncle Harry, Uncle Stan around 1981)

Simply the funniest people you'd ever meet. I loved them all dearly. Get those four together and the hysterical belly laughter could soften the hardest of hearts. Except my mother apparently. It never quite got said, but there is a reason that my dad began to be very isolated from the group, and I'm quite sure it had to do with her. We stopped having family Christmases with my dad's side when I was probably three. And the times the brothers were together were few and far between from there.

(This is me and my Uncle Harry at one of the last Christmases our family spent with my dad's side)

So, needless to say, some of my almost sheer panic when I first began attending the GIANT gatherings that my husband's families held, may have been just because I had never experienced such a thing. To be surrounded by people who actually liked each other and so very many of them completely overwhelmed this girl!

Then, in the more recent past, add to the mix the fact that no one from either side really knew much at all of what I lived with in regards to my parents and the circumstances in which they died--well, let's just say most of my parents' families had no clue what to do with me, and several want nothing to do with me.
Except a certain few that I can count on one hand. And, boy, did they do their best to love me. My Aunt Doris and Uncle Harry began calling me and coming to visit me and making a sincere effort in my childrens' lives. Aunt Doris staunchly defended me when it was necessary and her family showed their support as well. She would kiss me square on the mouth and tell me how much she had always loved me and say, "Honey, none of us will ever know what you went through, but I always knew something wasn't right." As an adult, I got to know an aunt that I never even knew I had.

She was one of the "gap-fillers" God has given me here and there just to show me what real love feels like.

A word has been on my mind lately.
PURPOSE--Noun: The reason for which something is done or created, or for which something exists.
I was thinking about this word today as I prayed for my aunt and her family, and I realized something. I did not get the privilege to know my aunt or uncle, or any of my cousins, for that matter, very well when I was little. I don't know what she accomplished or may be known for. I know she makes great baked beans and grilled cheese (she told me a couple of her secrets for their yumminess), but beyond that, all I know is how she makes me feel. She simply loves me. I have a feeling that if I asked her daughters and grandkids, they might say the very same thing. In her own special way, she just took care of everyone around her. She found purpose in taking an orphaned niece under her wing. When she gets to heaven, I know she will grasp how priceless that was to me.

Some times we know exactly what our purpose is. After I wrote this post about purpose, I spent time with a friend who is absolutely giddy because she knows that she knows exactly where God has placed her for such a time as this. I had to come back and write that in because there are times when purpose is very evident and exciting.
But, more often than not, I see people wrestle with knowing their purpose.
Think of a man age 50 and beyond who may not know where in the world he is supposed to lead and you will see exactly what I mean. I watched my dad slide downhill as soon as he thought he lost his value. I've seen it many, many times.
Listen to the cry of the heart of a stay-at-home momma who wonders if wiping bottoms and washing dishes is all she is good for.
The examples are truly endless. We all wrestle at some point or another with where we fit in. And if we know God has plans for us, many times we are desperately searching for meaning and purpose.
There is a big lie being sold to a starving market. It comes in a million shiny packages and whatever it looks like to one person, whatever bar they have set for themselves and labeled "SUCCESS" makes everything else look shabby and worthless.
This bar may be wealth, or accomplishment. It can come in the form of items or achievements. But whatever "it" is, it says that anything less is a failure.

What if success doesn't look like a house or car or even a successful ministry? What if success cannot be defined by net worth or gained in any collegiate course?
What if it's a simple as this: that at the end of the day, everyone you came into contact with felt loved?

“Everytime you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.”

We can run in circles our whole lives trying to look successful and find our grand purpose. Or we can follow in the footsteps of One Who spent His entire life pouring out love on everyone around Him--deserving or not.
He gave us each a certain area of effectiveness. The Bible calls them talents. The story is a good one and it is found in Matthew 25:14-30. Around here, we talk about this often. What are my "talents"? I don't mean this literally, as in how am I talented, rather, what has God given me that I am responsible to take care of? How do I serve well with what I have been given so that I am found worthy of more?
More chances to love and to serve, not to acquire. More chances to honor the Giver of all good gifts by treating well the gifts I've been given.

“Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

What if my purpose is just to pour out love? What if everyone God put into my life felt loved by me, and every day I listened carefully for the whisper of my Creator to put me in the path of someone who just needed to know what love felt like--wherever that should take me?

What if I was made just for that? It worked pretty well for Jesus, didn't it?
It's so simple, but is it enough? If my name was never up in lights for being the most and best of anything, did I fulfill my purpose? Was I a success?

I hope I get to tell my Aunt Doris what a success I think she has been. How she had a hand in shaping one, very grateful heart.

“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.--1 Corinthians 13:1-3

“I am not sure exactly what heaven will be like, but I know that when we die and it comes time for God to judge us, He will not ask, 'How many good things have you done in your life?' rather He will ask, 'How much love did you put into what you did?”

“What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family.”


*All quotes by Mother Teresa

Christmas Strangely Simplified

Ahhh...what a nice Friday morning. I wake up in my snuggly bed after a great night of sleep following a lovely Thanksgiving. My husband is home and doesn't have to work today. I open my iPad and check my mail and eventually my Facebook page to see most of my friends have been up all night getting deals on presents.
There is talk of folks getting trampled and stabbed on their way to buy a TV or a toy. Now that stores open on Thanksgiving Day people actually say that they get less time with their family eating turkey, but the good news is they will be able to provide better presents on Christmas.

I don't get it.

I just don't, but again, this is where I'm weird.
I do understand that there is such a thing as the thrill of the hunt. After all, I've been a coupon queen for well over four years. I know all about saving a buck. I even understand the fun of a tradition of going to do something out of the ordinary with girlfriends or family members and shopping like crazy, though sleep has always won out for this girl.

Maybe I've never done it because in the past money was always tight in our house since birthday season directly precedes Black Friday.

This year, I find myself really delving in to the "why's" of the way our family celebrates Christmas. It's certainly not the first year we have broken tradition with the way we do things. It's certainly not the only way our family does things differently. But this year we have had some questions asked. People are trying to figure us out. Ha! Good luck!

Here's why. When the kids were little, we did "the thing". For the holidays we tried to run from one family celebration to the other. We spent money we didn't really have to make sure that everyone we loved got a gift. Santa came--boy, did he--and we had a blast enjoying that. I loved the look on my kids' faces Christmas morning as they viewed the mountain of presents more than any thing in the whole world. We spent money we didn't really have to make sure they had the Christmas I dreamed of.
As they got older, and frankly, Christmas got trickier due to family situations, some of the joy faded. Not only did their presents become pricier as we started shopping at Apple.com instead of Toys r Us, but it seemed that the previous Christmas and all the gifts that were so important that year had gotten lost somewhere in their memory and mattered much less than they cost. This is not to say my kids aren't grateful. They are the most grateful, thoughtful givers and receivers, but maybe "stuff" just doesn't stand out in their minds that much.

Also, our love of travel grew exponentially...
So...somewhere along the way, we ditched the whole thing, kit and caboodle, and celebrated Christmas elsewhere without gifts and without a ham. In fact, our Christmases have included seashells, and plane rides, and coastlines from California to Florida. We've gone from turkey to tacos and ham to Hibachi.

And somewhere in there we've slowed down the pace and found Christmas in a whole new way.

Lately, Addie has been asked at work about her family. It seems we are intriguing. They can't decide what category to put us in. They hear about our kids who stay out of trouble. They hear that we homeschool. They know we aren't actively involved in a specific church at the moment. They hear we don't do Christmas.
There's a lot of "weirdness" that we don't even publicize. Things that make us different. And, quite honestly, things people don't really want to know. I'm not trying to be mysterious, but our decisions isolate us enough already. I certainly don't need to spell them out further. As God allows, I'm sure things will come out as I continue to write.

We DO believe Christmas is worth celebrating. It's a beautiful holiday in its simplest meaning. Perhaps, like so many other things, it's gotten a bit out of hand. Maybe, just maybe, it's turned into a "thing we do" without even thinking about it. But, maybe I'm all wrong. I am constantly in a place of questioning. Or maybe just looking underneath things.

That is what happened to our family. We began to look deeper. And as He so often does, God showed us gently, one thing at a time, that just because everybody's doing something, it may not be the right thing for us.

I am NOT criticizing presents at Christmas. Just like I'm not here to criticize where anyone else sends their kids to school or anything else anyone does. In one way, I love presents at Christmas and wish I was giving and getting a whole bunch of them! I hesitate to share what we do because people tend to get defensive as if I'm saying our way is right and yours is wrong. It couldn't be farther from the truth.
Our journey is our journey and yours is yours, and I pray a lot that God will help me continue to mind my own business. I'm a huge fan of that concept.

I'm just sharing a bit of this path I've been on. It's meant to be reflective.

Just like this Christmas will be. Wherever my family finds itself this year--maybe it will be drinking egg nog and opening some great gifts with family. Maybe it will be at a Sonic eating Chili Cheese Tots in Kentucky. I really don't know.

What I do know is that there is more to the story. Just like with our family. We might present ourselves as pretty odd. Ask us anything. We are more than happy to share how we got here.
But I guarantee there is more to the story than how it appears.

This Christmas, consider looking deeper. Under the layers of wrapping paper, pretty lights, and carols, there's a really profound Truth. It's about a baby--but not just an ordinary baby. It was the birth of Grace. It was the beginning of freedom from the system that made every one else run around like chickens with their heads cut off looking for peace. He's right there waiting for you with open arms.

Once you know that Truth, it will set you free--PRICELESS!

Food for thought

Momma-isms Part Two

I knew this would happen. I knew I would post Momma-isms and then come up with more as time went on. I just say way too many things around here to sum them up as quickly as I did.
Now, if I wrote a post about the crappy things I said, you'd all quit reading, but since there are a few good things here and there, I'd rather draw your attention, and that of my family, to those. That way, it's written down for all to see and the crappy things I've said are deniable. :o)

Well, I do have to say, in my own defense, I don't think anyone who lives here would ever say that I insult or intentionally hurt someone's feelings. I believe much too strongly in the power of words. I might, however, be accused of nagging reminding people too often of things that need to get done or correcting suggesting better ways to do things.

So, back to the things I'd like for them to remember.

1. You're responsible for you.
That's it.

You don't need to fix anyone else,

worry about what they are up to,

or be concerned about their words.

At the end of the day, between you and God, all that you are responsible for is the way you behaved, treated others, and spoke. Despite what others said or did. No matter how much you think you're justified in noticing and/or commenting on their behavior.

You're only responsible for you.
Adults may need this reminder hourly. It would help us remember not to judge, wouldn't it? I also say that you never know what someone else is going through until you've walked in their shoes. I say that from experience after having been judged for decisions I made knowing people could never have understood the road I had traveled.
We base our judgments on how our view has been flavored by our own circumstance. Every single person is doing the same thing. No one sees this world through the same colored glasses.

And, we can't save anyone. This one is tough. We may think we have every answer, but in the end, no one needs our opinion unless they've asked for it. No one needs our answers unless they are ready to hear them. As far as saving goes, isn't God big enough to draw folks to Him without our interference? His job, and He's awesome at it, is to prepare hearts to be ready to hear what He has to say. Our job is to be available and listening for a chance to share our story. Not to have the answers and cram them down someone's throat. Most likely they will be thrown right back into our face.
And, that counts for our spouse (and don't we just know EVERYTHING they need to fix!), our children, and those out there who just don't have it all together the way we do (insert sarcasm here).

Love speaks much louder than opinion.
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And, frankly, I have enough to do to keep track of myself and my own behavior. I don't even have time to worry about yours!
I'm just going to live out the love I've been shown and let that speak instead of feeling the need to go around sharing my opinion.
Except, of course, this blog which is entirely my opinion, but you choose whether or not you want to see it so that doesn't count.

2. I can't hear you when you whine.
Haha! That one is still funny to me. I can distinctly remember when my kids were going through that whiny stage that happens somewhere between the ages of four and seven. They would say something to me 497 times in that horrible voice that only a tired, cranky, somewhat desperate child that age has until I finally learned to say, "I can't hear you when you whine. When you decide to be calm and talk to me in a normal voice and ask me nicely, I will listen." Then, I set my jaw, bit my tongue almost off, and ignored them until they could take a deep breath and calm down and present me with something worth my time.
It really worked.
And, it makes me wonder how many times God may be saying, in a much better way than I ever could, "Alison, I just can't hear you when you whine. If you would change your tone and take a deep breath and remember Who I Am, I would love to listen to you. I love you and what you need matters to me, but the way your presenting it is wearing you, and quite frankly Me out."
Yes, I know all too well that I can't wear God out. Thank goodness, or He would have had enough of me a LONG time ago. It was for the sake of the point, and I just made it to myself.

3. Friendship starts here first.
Coming from a family in which no one got along--ever--it was my goal to live in a family in which loving each other was priority number two (right after loving God). I learned quickly in this new family we were creating, that a successful relationship needs time and attention and an awful lot of tenderness.

When priorities fall outside the lines of a family, the family relationships suffer. Period.

When my kids would fight and squabble, I would remind them that their sibling is their best friend for the rest of their life. If we can't succeed at that then we won't spend time on friendships outside until we figure it out. Sleep-overs and playdates got cancelled until we learned how to get along at home.

It still holds true, despite the fact that my kids are much more grown. The relationships they have built with each other still feel like a phenomenon to me every time I see how closely intertwined they are. It's a beautiful thing. They are-well, we all are-very closely knit in this home; and because we made that a priority, relationships have been forged that will stand strong.
I'm amazed at what God has made out of so little.

4. Greedy or grateful?
I thought of this yesterday as I felt sorry for myself about a certain situation in which things didn't exactly go my way. I may have thrown what we call in this house a "baby fit." Or, I may not have. I'll never tell the details, that's for sure. But, I did have a little talk with myself, and those words came to mind.
When my kids demanded that extra thing, and were very sure they should get their way, I would simply say, "Are you being greedy or grateful?"
That stings, doesn't it? We want what we want when we want it. We really aren't very accustomed to waiting, or heaven forbid, being told "No."
Let me just encourage you with this. Look around you. We are blessed. We don't go hungry. We are healthy and well-provided for. Complaining at all makes us sound greedy. And, I just wrote all of that for my very own self.

5. People will always let you down.
I know this sounds so negative, but it's really about expectations. Often, we put expectations on people that aren't fair to them and they are based on our own need. Then, we get upset because they didn't meet that expectation, and we hold it against them. I still do it--often. I think it might be human nature. But it really sets us up to fail, and to be let down.
No one could ever possibly live up to someone else's expectations.
We need to work hard enough just to be authentic; to love the way we love, to behave the way we behave and to let that be good enough. Ultimately, though that means we will let people down. There is really only One true constant in this world. Only One Who never changes and is always enough. It would be wise of us to remember that.

I have some amazing friends and extended family. I'm excited to hear some of your wisdom. Please comment here, and share some of your Momma-isms.

Baby, it's cold!

Winter began its journey to my neighborhood today.

I'm not a fan.

As I type, the frigid wind is howling outside my window. The temperature has dropped twenty degrees in just a few hours. Snow is predicted. Thousands of folks are without power tonight. We, Michiganders, are bracing ourselves for what is predicted to be one heck of an onslaught--for the next, oh, five ridiculous months or so.

Really, when it's January here, and we have carved our car out of some ridiculous ice-encrusted snowbank to drive through winds that blow the blinding snow into such a frenzy that we cannot see our hand in front of our face let alone use that hand to attempt to wipe the snot-cicle dangling from our nose so that we can fetch some variety of food that doesn't need to be cooked in case the ice has frozen the power lines--AGAIN--while we huddle together in the house with mittens and hats and oh-so-sexy thermal underwear under layers of blankets and ten pairs of socks...

...all we've really got is that high-five to the other surviving Michigander, and the ability to brag to each other about how gosh-darn hearty Michiganders are.



I'm so excited.
(Insert sarcasm here.)




I wanna be a baby snowbird, and fly away to warmer climes where vitamin D is given in a daily dose of sunshine, and people high five each other for outsmarting the system and escaping the ridiculous north. The place where you chuckle at the old guys in their stocking caps and scarves when the temp dips to a nippy 55 degrees.

I find myself feeling that way, too, lately when it comes to the kind of emotional struggle that whips my metaphorical hair back and forth (sorry for the badly used song lyric, but it makes sense as I write.) I sometimes just wanna run away--as if it's really possible to escape.

I was reading a fictional--yet accurate enough to also be somewhat nonfictional--account of the life of John Bunyan. No relation to the big guy with the ax and a big blue ox. Rather, the one who wrote Pilgrim's Progress. Fascinating story. One of those books that taught me more in story form than all of my years of history put together.
It also appealed to my sense of anti-establishment...ism (pretty sure that's a new word), as it dealt with the religion of the day and its polluted grasp on lives.
Before you hate, please read some of my other posts regarding the difference between religion and faith. Faith is what makes my heart beat. Religion isn't even for the birds.

Anyway, the woman in this story was wondering how so many things could go wrong in her life when she had dedicated herself fully to serving and living the very best life for God that she knew how. She kept claiming the verse about all things working together for good for her, yet stuff happened. The winds kept blowing her nice orderly world around like they probably are my garbage can at this very moment.
She was challenged by a friend who asked her if the only blessings in her life were the good things. Wait. What? Like, let's consider for one second that the bad things that have happened to us could be--BLESSINGS?
Well, this is how she explained it. She said, "Hardships are the Lord's greatest blessing to the believer. Without them we would love the Lord only for what He does for us. Our troubles teach us to love Him for Who He is."*

That's it--in a hard-to-look-at-nutshell. Troubles either turn us into blamers looking every which way to blame, and become bitter, and excuse bad behavior; or they bring us to our knees where we seek out our only true source of love.
Take our kids for instance. No matter how old or young they may be, if they get caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar, what's the first response? Blame. Excuses. Hiding from the ensuing trouble.
What if, instead of those options, our difficult, mouthy, teenager with every answer fell weeping and genuinely remorseful at our feet and pleaded with us to hold them and make it all better? Wouldn't we melt? Isn't that where they should be? Safe with the one who loves them unconditionally, and has the power to comfort and help heal their broken heart?

When my world got rocked, I fell down. And the only face I saw was the only One Who could hold me close enough to heal my heart. He's not some
"man upstairs" waiting to hand out consequences to His badly behaved children. He's not a genie in a bottle passing out blessings to the best little brown-nosers in the class.

He is the love of our lives--waiting for us to catch on to that.

That's what I learned. I wouldn't trade that for anything. No one, ever, in this whole wide world can take that from me. That love is right there waiting on the other side of all the blame and excuses.

It's like finding a tropical paradise, complete with a lazy river, in the middle of your living room on January 15th in Michigan. Priceless.

So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn't hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn't gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God's chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ's love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture...
...None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I'm absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.
Romans 8:31-40


Excerpt from The Preacher's Wife by Jody Hedlund
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When I was little...

When I was little I thought a lot of things were true that turned out to be not so true. Some are funny, and some are a bit sad. It's interesting, though, to think back.

When I was very small, I thought that the Bible said somewhere "Thou shalt not kill any living thing." I was riddled with guilt over each bug I crunched or tree branch that I may have inadvertently broken. I remember vividly being in a heated debate with a VBS teacher over this fact--certain that I had read it in the Bible somewhere. I didn't, of course. Probably dreamed it.

During every dinner in the evenings, though our family sat around the table together, we were shushed throughout the entire meal because the news, most importantly the weather, was on. My dad worked outside 3rd shift so the weather report was vital to him. I listened to a lot of forecasts and I was pretty sure the "wind chill" was the "windshield."
You know, how cold the air was when it hit the windshield! Makes perfect sense to me!

I've mentioned before that I was my dad's little tag-a-long. He didn't talk to me much. Mostly, I chattered away hoping for a response, or at the very least that something at some point would be heard.
He did, however, get a big kick out of telling me tales which I believed hook, line, and sinker for more years than I care to admit.

Some of his stories:
Dragonflies will sew your mouth shut.
Stay away from those little suckers! They are just looking for a great set of lips!
My bellybutton was made into a knot by the doctor.
That's why it looks the way it does. Duh!
Battery acid! Watch out for that great amputator of limbs.
One little drop will cut your arm or leg right off.
Pileated woodpeckers--giant birds that lurk in the woods.. Ever seen one of them? According to dad, they were at least three feet tall. I was constantly roaming the woods alone. I was also waiting to see a terrifying, giant Woody Woodpecker at any given moment.

My mother told me different stories. Ones that scared me just as much until I grew enough to find out how very wrong she was. Hers were believed entirely by her and just enough by me to make me take some precautions. She believed that my relationship with God, and His love for me, was entirely contingent upon my behavior. She believed that if one sin was accidentally left unconfessed, and she was to die before fixing that she would go to hell.

Now, I know that my Jesus paid a once and for all price to cover me for always once I've accepted His beautiful gift of grace. Because I've accepted His gift, I, in turn, want to please Him with my life and choices.

When I was small though, that law-based thinking had me up for hours every night trying very hard to confess every single sin, reciting the Lord's Prayer, and because I had heard that I should be thankful for everything, I would fall asleep thanking God for the grass, the birds, the leaves, the moon, my friends, the sky, paper, blankets, the air...

I was pretty sure that picking my boogers was a pretty big sin. I made sure to confess that every day, too.

No wonder I was a scared little girl! Yup, pretty much Chicken Little.

At school and some of the churches I attended, I was taught that rock-n-roll music was of the devil. That the beat itself was pure evil. That even swaying to the beat was participating in the evil. Even so-called Christian music was questionable if it had too much of a drumbeat.

I was attending services where I watched deaf people healed and lame legs grow longer in front of my eyes, and also being told by others in authority in my life that healing is not relevant today. That God only did that in the Bible. I saw folks worshiping with their whole beings and heard them speak in other tongues at night, and by day I was told that didn't and shouldn't happen.

No wonder I was a confused little girl.

Now, I've seen the hand of God work miraculously more times than I can count. I've watched Him heal. I've spoken in other tongues. I've heard His voice. I've worshiped Him with all that I have.
I've traded rule-based thinking for freedom and grace. I've committed to honor Him in all that I do, and in return, I am free.
The rules and all the chains that come with them are just plain gone.
No, this does not mean that I can do whatever I please and still expect to fall under His covering over me. It means that He loves me and when I even start to grasp the depths of that love, I am changed. My motives, my intentions, my very heart desires something new.

Out go the "must-do's" and the "don't-you-dare-do's" and the needy, paranoid confessions. Out goes the rulebook and the need to appear holy. It's the difference between "religion" and "FAITH."

I've learned that religion is never attractive.
Love always is.


“Love is the overflow of joy in God. It is not duty for duty’s sake or right for right’s sake. It is not a resolute abandoning of one’s own good with a view solely to the good of the other person. It is first a deeply satisfying experience of the fullness of God’s grace, and then a doubly satisfying experience of sharing that grace with another person.”--John Piper

In our family, we've taught our children that they are loved beyond measure. That there is nothing that they could do that will EVER cause us to stop loving them. That they will mess up sometimes because they are human, but that if they bring it to us, though there will certainly be a consequence, we will handle it together.
In response to this love, they try very hard not to disappoint us. They love us fully in return and do their best to live in a way that honors who we are.

That is exactly what my relationship with my God is. If anyone looks at me, all I want them to see is a representation of the love I've known and been shown.

I am loved. I am safe. This is what I know now.

"God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we're free of worry on Judgment Day—our standing in the world is identical with Christ's. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love." 1 John 4:17,18


"Being loved this much should make a difference in your life today. Remember the One who loves you, and then be different because of it."--Author unknown


I am my Beloved's, and He is mine. His banner over me is love.--Song of Solomon




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A love letter...

As I lie in bed at the end of a day, and all is finally still, Lord, I'm so glad that You love me.



I climb up on Your lap and know that You have been waiting for me to slow down and notice You. You always care about the condition of my heart. Not what I did or didn't accomplish. You just want to hear my voice and soothe my spirit.
And there's no place like Your lap. Here is where I breathe, and hear You whisper. Thank You for the way You let me know how much I matter. No fancy words needed when it's just You and me. There is no order necessary in our conversation. You just know me and want me to know You more.
I simply love You. You showed me how. This is a good place to be.

As I wake in the morning, I face a fresh, new day~full of Your amazing promises to me.




I step into that fresh start with joy in my heart and peace deep inside because all is right in my world because of You. I have no reason to worry~You have taught me how to trust You fully. And, if I forget, I bring my concern to You, and You carry my load.
I am not afraid anymore. All I have is from You, and I know how much You love me so I leave it all in Your hands. You take such good care of me!
You even care about my little details. I love when You help me find my keys when I can't, or put one of "our songs" on at just the right moment. Or when you send someone across my path to say just what You wanted me to hear.
You speak peace into my spirit and breathe life into broken places.
You know me so well.
I simply love You. You showed me how. This is a good place to be.
song

Birthday Season

I suppose this morning of all mornings I have the right to wax nostalgic. It was, after all, two decades ago almost to the minute that I was born to motherhood. A state of being that altered my existence beyond my imagination and forever changed the shape of my heart. Six pounds, eleven ounces of a gorgeous little blond boy turned a couple of kids into a momma and a daddy and we've loved every single second. And, in retrospect, to contemplate how the enemy attempted to wipe us out; but God had such an amazing victory in store. One that would change the course of generations. But, I digress...

This is a big birthday year at our house. We've been talking about this year for some time now, knowing it was coming. This year Justin exits the teen years (though none of us have thought of him as a teen for some time now), Addie turns eighteen (which makes her, according to some standards, an adult), and Kyrsten enters the teen years (odd because everyone thinks she's fifteen already.)

My kids were due on November 3rd, 5th, and 7th in their respective years. That's because Christian and I love to plan and schedule. NOT! No, we wanted our babies desperately, but certainly did not know things would be so organized!
Each fall that I was pregnant, I began laboring on October 18th. I was the Queen of False Labor. Justin was born some 40+ hours later (I know, I've been waiting for my medal for that one),

Addie, pretty close to schedule,

Kyrsten, several days late.

Yesterday, I had lunch with Kyrsten and two lifelong friends--a mother/daughter pair. The adults were saying how it doesn't seem possible that my littlest was a baby THIRTEEN years ago! Where did the time go? Kyrsten, however, thinks thirteen years has been quite a long time! :o)
Time is a weird thing isn't it? I told her that I think it's like when you're riding in a car. If you're young, it's like looking out the windshield where things are coming toward you somewhat slowly. If you're older, like me, it's like looking out the side window and things are whipping by the window. Age even more, and it seems the view is more and more about the rear window and looking back.
My wise friend, Jenny said, "What a good analogy! The older we get the more we find ourselves looking at where we've been."
So true. I imagine it won't feel like too long, and Christian and I will be waxing nostalgic about the kids and grandkids and the good old days of yesteryear--but then again, you can't really stare out the back window of a Harley, can you?

Happy Birthdays, my babies...

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Momma-isms

As I get older, I find I'm having moments where little snippets from my childhood are coming back to me at random moments. My dad was such a goofball, and had a million little things he said that made us all laugh--at least the first 150 or so times he said them. Those little "Ralph-isms" keep coming up in my speech and even in my husband's here and there, and warming my heart. As a matter of fact, I even hear them come out the mouth of my oldest now and then. We can all smile now as we remember that side of my dad. Surely, God has done a healing work!

Repeating truths is so important. I have verses that have literally gotten me through written on cards and stuck all over my house from the walls to the refrigerator. They're like old friends now that encourage me when I need a lift and remind me when I forget how big my God is. Eventually, they get stuck in my mind.

You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You. Isaiah 26:3

The other day I was repeating one of my own phrases that make my children roll their eyes. I have said these things to my children all throughout their lives, and though they roll their eyes now, I'm sure they will find them coming out of their mouths someday! For now, I'm going to write them down--just in case they try to forget!

1. Do the thing until you feel the thing.
This has a couple applications to me. When the kids were really small and someone hurt someone else's feelings, an apology was needed. Oftentimes, one sniffling toddler was made to look the other one in the eye and say a genuine, "I'm sorry." I can just see their little faces as they would look at me and say, "But, I'm not really sorry! Why do I have to say it?"
Well, because sometimes the feelings follow the words. We say we are sorry and sure enough when we see what that meant to somebody else, all of a sudden we realize we did mean it after all! It worked like a charm.
It also makes me think of my little ones who were taught about the goodness of God in our family, but our story hadn't become their own yet. I remember one of my little ones saying, "I want to love Jesus, but I don't really feel it yet."
Again, I would say, "Do the thing until you feel the thing." They learned what love looked like, and claimed it over their little lives before they even realized how powerful those words would be! It wasn't too long before our faith became their own--when the love of God became more than a family belief and was known deep in their very own spirit.

Isn't that true for us? There are so many times in my life, whether I'm working or dealing with a family issue where my heart isn't really where it should be. My words can lead me, though; in a good way or a bad one! Maybe I'm not feeling like I'm brimming over with love for my husband in a given moment, but when I let my words of love lead, feelings can change. We don't want to be led by our emotions. We want to be led by what is truth.

2. A job worth doing is a job worth doing well.
Granted, this one's been around a while, but I say it every time chores are done halfway around here. Isn't it so true, though? Why bother putting the effort in if in the end you can't be proud of it?

3. Never put off for tomorrow what you can do today.
This one goes hand in hand with number two, but has pushed me many times to follow through and finish something I've started when I really wanted to quit. Procrastination is a bad, bad habit and when you do it a little, you can easily begin to do it more often.
Now, this comes in moderation for me. If there is fun to be had playing with my family, I'm a firm believer in enjoying a stolen moment. Work will be there tomorrow!
As a child, too many adults in my life validated themselves by working hard. It was very easy to overlook a child who needed some love and time.
Moments cannot be retrieved.

4. There's nothing you and I can't handle together.
I want my kids to have this one engraved on their hearts. It's so important for them to know that if they bring their stuff to me and their dad, we will help them through it. If they hide things, they go alone and we walk separate paths. Our paths as a family were not meant to be walked alone. We have arms to hold each other up.

5. You do bad things, bad things happen. You do good things, good things happen.
There are things in this world called natural consequences. We can look around at the lives of people around us and see this seemingly obvious truth in every direction. Sometimes, when faced with a temptation we need to be reminded of the outcome. It will most definitely reflect the decision.

6. Do the best you can do. That's all you can do, Kid.
This one is a recycled Ralph-ism. My dad didn't pass on a whole lot of wisdom to me, but this one I remember. He would tell me this when I had a test to take, or was nervous about an upcoming event.
It's really so simple it's almost silly, but it's so true! All we have to offer is our best. If we are being faithful and doing our very best, no one can really expect more, can they? And if we fail after having done our best, we should have no regrets.

My last one is one is just a universal truth known by all who dwell in this home. It helps them keep stay focused and put things in their proper order. It reminds them that secrets are always found out, Daddy will always come to my defense, and there's no use fighting too hard because...

7. Momma always wins.

Isn't that great? So simple, yet so eloquent. I've even made them repeat the rule back to me should they sound like it's fading from their minds.
I really like that one.

I want to hear some of your words! What things do you find yourself repeating as words of wisdom at your house? Please share them as comments here on the blog. I have a feeling there's a lot of wisdom to go around!




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The shape I'm in

Image--1. a mental picture or impression of something
2. An exact likeness

Recently, I spent some time in a dressing room.

If you are of the female persuasion you know how devastating this can be. I firmly believe that the most disheartening experience a woman over about age 13 can face is the set of mirrors that encloses you on three sides and shows you glimpses and views of yourself you haven't seen in quite some time. And come to find out, you didn't want to see at all.
The person who has the brilliant idea to utilize softer lighting and flattering mirrors in a dressing room will sell more clothes than every other store put together. As I see it, the ugliest, brightest lights that show every lump and bump are the ones currently being used. And I swear those mirrors are shipped in from some sadistic funhouse.
You know I'm telling the truth, ladies.

This time, oh so thankfully, was not the dreaded bathing suit or undergarment shopping.
And at the risk of sounding like I'm bragging, I will tell you that my husband took me shopping and helped me choose clothes for this fall and winter, and we had a great time. Usually, clothes for me are dead last on my list of priorities, and consist of clearance rack rescue.
But this year, the closet pickings were looking a bit slim, and I guess he figured I'd get a little chilly, or embarrassed, running around this winter without any on because he hooked me up. He's so good to me.
But, despite the best possible shopping experience, I left feeling disheartened and discouraged. I struggled with the image in the mirror. It just wasn't what I had hoped it was. I wish I was over this stage in my life where it matters. Apparently, I'm not.

The store that is my favorite has salesgirls that helped me pick things out and give me advice. It's really the only way I know how to to shop any more. I don't know what section to shop in in any department stores. Maybe it's because I don't know exactly how a woman my age should look.
Probably because in my head I'm still about 22. I think of myself as a girl. Not an almost forty year old woman. Big, HUGE sigh.........

No matter our size or shape, I firmly believe every person struggles with body image at some point or another, and some of us struggle a bit longer in life than others.


Obviously, everyone at some point has made a conscious effort to create the image of themselves that they want to portray to the world. Much as a sculptor forms an image from raw material into art.
It begins around adolescence, (when we realize that our mothers actually had a good idea when they made us brush our teeth and do our hair), and hopefully changes and morphs until eventually one presents him/herself the way they want to look.
We start with a costume of sorts to fit into whatever crowd we associate ourselves with (depending on how hard we are trying to not look like our parents), and then, somehow, we spend the rest of our lives trying to look like whatever unrealistic, airbrushed picture society tells us to emulate.

What bothers me is that we have this picture in our mind of how we should look, and then we base our success or failure on that image in our mind.
What also bothers me is how much we are compelled to dwell on our outside sculpture and how much less we are compelled to shape our inside.

What shows more?

At the end of the day, aren't you more moved by the encounters you've had with people than the way they presented themselves. What did you notice? How they behaved, or what they were wearing?

Today, I was blessed to run into a man at the grocery store that I met only once, but he hugely impacted my life. He was used by God to speak life into my world at an age when I had NOTHING going for me. I happen to know he has impacted literally thousands of people in the same way, yet all these years later he knew my face. Our spirits had connected once upon a time and again today. I wept in the baking aisle as I thanked him for making room in his world for me.

I have no idea what he was wearing or if he had gained any weight over the years. Wouldn't that have been ridiculous to notice?

When I looked in his eyes, I saw the image of my God reflected.
"God created man in His own image." Genesis 1:27

Typically, when I step out for the day, I have spent nearly an hour preparing my outside to look as good as it's going to look.
How about preparing the image that should matter? What do people remember from an encounter with me?

I'm facing the fact that I'll probably never find perfection in a three-way mirror. But, I have the opportunity to look into the eyes of several people in any given day and reflect a different image of One Who I've allowed to shape me. Hopefully, its an image that looks a lot like pure love.

Because He is the three-way reflection of me that tells me who I really am.

The voice of my Sculptor Who loves me is the One I want to hear. Not the one in my head that usually spews lies.

The following is a love letter that gently screams truth. This is going to be printed tonight and put on my bathroom mirror and that of my girls.

This is the voice I choose to hear...

"My dearly loved daughter, I love you with an everlasting love, a lavish love. You are my princess, the apple of My eye. I gather you in My arms and carry you close to my heart. I rejoice over you with singing.
Carefully and skillfully, I knit you together in your mother's womb. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Every hair on your head is numbered. Every smile catches My eye. I think of you constantly. Were I to count the number of times each day I think of you they would outnumber the grains of sand on the seashore. I know you completely. I know when you sit, and when you rise. I know your thoughts before you think them; I know the words you say before you speak them.
Daughter, let me have all your worries and all your cares for I know all that concerns you. I know the thoughts and plans I have for you; plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future. Open wide your heart and I will fill you with My holy love.
My love will satisfy you. My love will fill your deepest longings. Keep your heart bound up in Mine, for with Me you can do all that I have called you to do. My love for you is higher, deeper, wider than you can possibly imagine. I'd do anything for you--I gave My Son's very life for you.

I love you, precious one.
Your Daddy

And if that doesn't convince you, take a few minutes and listen to this amazing new song from Cody Carnes. It changed my world.


Love letter borrowed from Lorraine Pintus--author of Jump off the Hormone Swing


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One note at a time

I had my third cello lesson this week. Oh, my. Let me tell you, there has been no other instance in my adult life in which I have felt so dumb. Having taught piano for 21 years seems to help me very little with this instrument. It helps me read the music, but that's about it.
To make music on the piano, you touch the keys. To make music on the cello requires thinking of about 250 different things at the same time, and apparently, even then, it may sound like a tortured bovine.
The first week of practice, I may have apologized to my family a thousand times, and truly, I almost quit for their sake alone.
The second week, I got to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star in some variations and sometimes it sounded like a real song. My hope was renewed. I brought this and page after page of brilliance back to my teacher who said I was doing very well and that this week we were going to concentrate on how I played the notes.
Wait...what? Didn't you hear how many pages I got done this week?
Who cares if I'm using the bow like a handsaw! My D scale actually sounded like eight real notes!
I don't think she cared.
She wants me to focus on each bow stroke; how much of the bow I use for each note, how lightly I use the bow to produce a good tone, to keep my elbow and wrist loose and "flowy". This in addition to everything else. I can't just saw my way through a million little songs. Sigh.

Christian and I were talking about this very concept this week upon his return from Europe. Every time he has been there, he has been struck by one glaring truth. Europe produces quality. America produces quantity.
In Europe, you buy handmade pastries and bread and fresh fruits and vegetables every morning. You don't go to Walmart and stock up on supplies for the week.
When you dine out in Europe, it is expected that the meal should take hours. I mean, maybe 4 hours. Waitstaff does not earn money based on tips so there is not the need to turn so many tables in a night and no one is in a hurry. Each bite of the food is tasted and enjoyed for pleasure.
Buildings there date back closer to the fall of the Roman empire than to current date and have the beauty to prove it. Old buildings here are torn down rather than restored, and then, ironically, a new one is built to look just like the first.
Here, we mass-produce and massively consume. What has it gained us? That answer should be obvious.

The other day was senior day at my local grocery store. I chuckled and thought of my grandparents as I inhaled the smell of mothballs. That, and some browsing in some antique stores this week reminded me of some of my grandparents' way of thinking.
When one bought clothing, you bought few items, but they were good quality and you took care of them so they would last. My grandpa, bless his heart, always smelled of mothballs when he pulled his best suit out. Wonder how long he kept that thing.
When one bought furniture, it was solidly built and you'd better like it because you were gonna slipcover that stuff from now til eternity to make it last. My grandma, bless her heart, had practically the entire living room covered in plastic. Floor runners ran in mazes covering every path you might walk, plastic or flowery slipcovers adorned the "sofa", and the original plastic covered the lampshades so they never got dusty.
Now, we buy cheap products, and when they're ruined, we buy another.

I have been bemoaning the arrival of fall. I'm such a summer girl, through and through, that most times all that fall feels like to me is a precursor to the season I dread. Sock-sweater-huddle-around-the-fire-to-keep-warm-season. No-basking-in-the-sun-season. "Can't-I-just-feel-warm"-season.
As I was driving down the road I rolled my eyes at the leaves that were beginning their metamorphosis, and I knew the voice of my God as He said to me, "Look around you! Isn't it beautiful? I made it just for you."
Humbled, I smiled. "It is beyond beautiful. You made this just for me."


"I'm speechless, in awe—words fail me.
I should never have opened my mouth!
I've talked too much, way too much.
I'm ready to shut up and listen." Job 40:3-5

If I take a minute to look--to really see--instead of always thinking about the next thing. To slow down and look around and notice what I've been given. To taste and enjoy what I eat. To hear, or create a single, beautifully played note. To see the beauty and perfection in what's been made just for me.

To hear the music, smell the roses, and live this day one note at a time...




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I didn't sign up for this...

Today was one of those days! The kind where if I would've known ahead of time all that I needed to accomplish in one day, I would've tried to skip! I worked so hard from early until late that I fell asleep when my head hit the pillow, rather than suffering through the "hamster on a wheel" that is often my bedtime brain.
It doesn't help that my husband has been somewhere across the ocean for some time now. He comes home very soon, but not having my best friend here to notice and care makes the days even longer.

I have definitely had my share of time with my husband traveling. For nineteen of our twenty years together he has traveled for his job, and the amount, distance, and length of trips has only increased over time. Today, the difficult part is mostly that I miss him. Once upon a time, the difficult part was parenting little ones virtually alone.
Back in the day, I had twenty-four piano students in the afternoons and evenings when two of my three kids were getting home from school, an infant, and a husband who worked at the office, traveled, and worked two to three days out of an office in Detroit. Not to mention, I had no dishwasher!
Honestly, I don't know how I survived that season.
Then, he started working in the aviation industry and began traveling to Europe in addition to all the state-side travel. At some point in there we were called to homeschool. This did put a lot of the work-burden on me. But, on the flip-side, the kids and I became quite the little band of merry men. I look back very fondly on those years.

Now, here I am with one still home doing school with me, and two in the workforce. And my husband far away from me.

It's so easy to sum all of that up into a nice little story, but it doesn't tell you about the day-to-day difficulty of doing all that needed to be done--virtually alone. There were many tears and feelings of loneliness and hopelessness for me throughout those years. In one particularly ungraceful moment of wallowing in self-pity, after hearing Christian was leaving again, I remember saying the following embarrassing, ugly words: "I didn't sign up for this."

This week in a movie I watched and in a book I read, I heard two wives say those words, and each time I was reminded of saying them myself.
Because, guess what. I DID sign up for "this"! And everything "this" entailed. It's called better or worse. It's called thick and thin (literally and figuratively). :o) It's also called perspective.
Two years ago today, we had just arrived home from a 4800 mile 17 day trip that made a big circle from Michigan to the East Coast, up to Prince Edward Island and back around through Canada and home again. Last year at this time, we were several weeks into a three and a half month, epic adventure from coast to coast covering almost twelve thousand miles. In the span of twelve years or so, we have now road-tripped all 48 states together!
Two of my three have been to Europe with their Dad, and the third is gearing up for her turn.
I say all that not to sound boastful because I know without a doubt that those trips have all been gifts from my heavenly Daddy, but it reminded me that what I had so pathetically complained about also became my blessings. It just depended on how I looked at it! Christian's job had allowed us the chance to see the world.
I could have had a more typical lifestyle, and would have missed out on so very much. Getting "thrown" out of the box was to my benefit!
Good thing I signed up for the "this"!

Life is so much like that, isn't it? We commit, then complain along the way, and then eventually, with some perspective we can look back and see how the struggles actually grew us and somehow became something to be grateful for.
Now, I'm working on skipping that whole complaining part, and just starting out being thankful. For what is surely for my good (Romans 8:28), knowing the plans He has for me can only be for my good (Jeremiah 29:11), and realizing that in the end I've developed character; and that is priceless.

There's more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!
Romans 5:3-5
The Message






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Coming soon to a woman near you...

I just have to share this. It is definitely a change from my usual blog postings, but I just had to address it. I so wish I would have had some of this insight twenty years ago.
And for those of you husbands who might be reading, if you have any love at all for your wife, please read on.

For years, my husband has loved me through a roller coaster of hormones that may have sent a lesser man packing. For some reason, this girl has had issues regarding estrogen and progesterone and their wild, wild ride that most times hasn't seemed quite fair.

I listened to these messages this morning and cried. It is so important to relate and know that someone understands. Maybe most importantly that it is not my imagination.

PMS is truly a physical issue that is used as a spiritual battleground. We cannot afford to take it lightly and dismiss it. Especially when it is such a real and relevant issue, or maybe it would be better described as a clear and present danger. :o)

Please, take the time to listen to this. There are two messages available, and both are amazing. They are also on iTunes as a podcast titled "The Hormone Swing." It will change the way you think.

If you've struggled in this area and can relate please comment here on the blog. I'm thinking this might be a topic worth discussing further...

A poem by the author of the book I'm reading called, "Jump off the Hormone Swing," Lorraine Pintus:

The Crowd that is Me

Within this body live many women
There's one that is holy, and one that is sinnin'.
One woman sings loudly with lots of praises
Another spreads fear for the rage that she raises.

One wife is gracious, selfless and kind
Another is toxic and out of her mind.
One mother is gracious and stunningly wise
Another is foolish even in her own eyes.

The woman that emerges depends on one thing
The nature of her hormones and the height of her swing.

Kids...

If my father-in-law reads this someday, he will definitely cringe at the title. Dad, I'm sorry. Yes, I know kids are really baby goats, but somehow my children are my kids, too. And aren't your baby goats just the cutest things ever? :o)

A few days ago, I walked down "the kids' hallway" in our house and saw the strangest thing. Every one of their rooms was clean! And I didn't tell them to do it! I could see the color of everyone's carpet! No funny smells were present! Each of my kids were on their beds reading or talking on the phone, and there was no visible mess anywhere. It was a sight to behold, I'm telling you.
I literally stood in the hallway and gaped for several minutes. Angels may have sung--if they did I was too much in shock to notice.

It struck me that I have most certainly turned a corner. No longer am I the mother of children that play with toys. I am no longer the one who has to say, "You can play outside when your room is clean." In fact, I barely have to ask for dirty clothes because they pretty much do their own laundry now. Every night after dinner, my "babies" clear the table, do all the dishes, and clean the kitchen because I made dinner so "Have a seat, Momma."

I own only one sippy cup. I bought it for babies who come visit. I still have an Ariel, Ronald McDonald, and Veggie Tales plate in the cupboard. Not sure why. I have several American Girl dolls packed away next to the Barbies in the basement. Now, in the driveway, I have a car with the name Addilac (Addie's Caddie) instead of Little Tyke and a truck called Ford instead of Tonka.

No more fighting over which Nickelodeon show to watch at my house. Little Bear has now been traded for some documentary. No Sonic on the Sega. Now, my Kyrsten may be playing Black Ops with her brother some evening doing something involving lots of guns in a nuke town...?

Now, problems involve jobs, and relationships, and future decisions when once upon a time, they were blankies needing to get washed, and sleepless nights due to bad dreams, and fights over whose turn it was.

My next step in all this is GRANDMA! Oh, don't you worry about me! When my kids are happily married and have their kids, I will be the happiest granny you ever did see! Bring on the diaper butts!!!

But, for now, I am just a bit reminiscent. I talk to fellow moms who have kids just now in their first days of college. I watch their eyes and hear their hearts cry out as baby bird number one leaves the nest. It's such a difficult thing, this letting go. You spend your life knowing it's coming. In fact, preparing them for just this thing! But, to experience the separation, and to not be there to see what they see and watch out for them. To not know what they eat, or be able to help them get a good night's sleep...it goes against a mom's nature.
From the moment we had them we began a painful separation. I felt this deeply when Justin moved away. As if a huge chunk of my heart couldn't function properly.

I also hear mommas with their little ones getting ready to go back to school. Sadly, to me, some cannot wait for the school bell to ring so their little guys can get out of their hair. I never related to that. I missed them like crazy when they were at school. Life happened when they got home! I guess that's another reason homeschool ended up so perfect for us.
I also hear parents who will miss their kids as they head back to the land of poster paint and recess. Any of these moms may be like I was where while some were off finger painting, mom was at home with other little ones doing naps and diapers. My days (and nights) were so very full that I'm not sure I could appreciate the joy of it as fully as I tried to.

Those days are so few. And fast. And so very, very precious.
But, let me also say this. Do not believe the lies that the teen years are miserable. Yes, they are challenging and will ask you to dig for strength and wisdom beyond your capacity sometimes! But, they are also full of joy if you let them be. It is positively fascinating to see these little people go through an absolute metamorphosis into real-sized people. My parents always said the fun part was over when we were no longer little. How sad! I know how that made me feel! We all need to know we matter just like we are; that we have purpose and worth no matter how many hormones are surging uncontrollably!

Hug your "babies" today. That little face will only be little for a half a second. We don't get to snuggle them nearly long enough. Look at that little person as just that. Not a "being" sucking the very life out of you or getting in the way of the things you have to do, but a little soul who just wants to matter and be loved.

From the momma of three simply amazing kids (with really clean rooms, I might add), I give you two pieces of advice.
Leave no doubt in their minds that they are loved beyond measure--that the things that matter to them matter a great deal to you.
And, make each day count. It is a gift.



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Divin' in

I promise, I was not hired by anyone from the Pure Michigan campaign to write the words that will follow. But, I must confess, I am in love with our lake. It's true. Though I've seen the rest of this amazing country and have fallen in love with the views and vistas in dozens of other states, I'm a summertime, Michigan girl through and through.

I simply cannot imagine living anywhere that I could not take a five minute drive and be at my beach. Christian knows this about me. He puts up with my obsession with my beach and even occasionally joins me there. But, he cannot keep up with my need to bask in the sun and swim in the waves, and looks at me a bit strangely once in a while.
One of my dearest childhood friends lived on Lake Michigan and we spent an awful lot of time together in our growing up years. Much of that time was in the water. When my kids were little, there was nowhere easier to take them for a day of fun. We all tend to be a bit fish-like so to this day, we are at the lake several times a week.

Today, was a sunny day, so to live up to my goal to be at the lake every single sunny day since the water hit 68 degrees, I jumped in the car after all my work was done and took off by myself to my beach. All I bring is a towel and my keys and license. When I arrive, I'm alone and no one is even in sight as far as I can see in either direction on the beach. I set up my towel in my spot and blissfully lay in the sun until I'm nice and toasty and then go for a swim.

Today was apparently Ladies' Day at the beach as two other nice women found their own spot and enjoyed their beach time as well. One was the reading type. She set up her pink umbrella and parked her little chair underneath and read to the sound of the water and seagulls.
The other was more like me. Bring on the crispy, brown skin and occasionally take a dip. No book necessary.

Beach etiquette is a funny thing. There is an unspoken rule, at least at our beach, that you pretty much don't need to make conversation with anyone. Or eye contact. Everyone just does that thing, kinda like at restaurants, where you are in a public place pretending you're all alone. Of course, you are looking to see what other people are doing, but you can be sly about it. Like, you pretend your sleeping, and you just peek out from under your eyelashes to see if what they are up to. No need to say hello. Everyone is just content to be in their own happy little beach bubble. One time, I broke etiquette by complimenting a lady on what a nice mom she was. It was awkward. She really looked at me like, "Are you really talking to me at the beach?"

So, today, the ladies and I, we just made ourselves happy and pretended we were all alone.

Let me just tell you, there is nowhere that I am more content than underwater in Lake Michigan. Well, swimming underwater (just to clarify). There is nothing like the underwater world with nothing to hear but the muted sound of water, and everything you see is blurred and beautiful. No one else can interfere or interrupt.

Today, the water was so calm and warm that I just laid on the top of it and back floated for as long as was possible. The sun kept me warm, the water was crystal clear and I just laid back and felt peace.
Here is where I know my Creator best, in the midst of His Creation. I laid there on the water, and thought about how it felt like being in His arms. That place where everything else can be a total mess, but I can just lie back and know peace. I totally trust that I'm safe.

No matter how heavy my heart may be, I still float.

As I laid there I thought about how much being in the water is like my relationship with God. There were definitely times I didn't feel like getting all the way in.
I laugh at my Kyrsten when we go to the beach together because when the water is cold, she tends to dive right in. I tend to take my sweet time and work up my courage. She is constantly saying, "Mom, go all the way in! You'll feel better once you're all the way in!"

You really can't fully experience swimming in the lake if you're not willing to get all the way in. And you can't really experience what God is like if all you're willing to do is get your toes wet.

And, you can't really experience what my Lake Michigan is like from a picture. You might think it's lovely looking and may want to visit it someday.
Or, you might see a picture of the lake when it's stormy or hear a story someone told of its rip currents and the lives that are lost. From this, you may decide it's not worth your time.
But, if you get all the way in...if you totally surrender and experience it firsthand on a warm, summer day, you will be changed. You may not want to leave!

That's what it like with God, too. You may have seen a good representation of Him in the the kindness of a stranger. Or there could have been something done in His name that looked dark and not at all appealing.
Or maybe a some "wave" came your way in your life, and knocked your legs out from underneath you, and you decided that if God would allow that, you don't need anything to do with Him.
I know that I would hate to have people try to get to know me from what other people had to say about me. And, I sure wouldn't like it if someone decided they didn't want to get to know me at all based on someone else's opinion or representation of me.
And, I could spend all day getting mad at that wave that got me all wet or realize that wave was part of something bigger than I'll ever understand.

There is nothing like the moment when you realize that His love is like an ocean just waiting to refresh and carry you, even when your heart feels heavy--like it could never float again.

I've learned to surrender. Just like I learned to back float. At some point, you just have to do it. You can't surrender a little bit. You either do or don't. At some point, it's just about letting go of what you know, maybe taking a chance even though it goes against what feels natural, and trusting in something bigger than yourself. You were, after all, made to float.

There is a goodness available--a sweetness that only comes from letting go. A peace you can only know when you get all the way in. When you walk up to LOVE and look it full in the face, the only real option is to dive in headfirst.

Kyrsten's favorite song when she was a baby...(seems appropriate)