Be slow in choosing a friend, slower in changing.-- Ben Franklin

(This is a repost of one of my very first blogs written two years, three hundred sixty-four days ago.  It tells exactly where my heart finds itself today.  I truly have the best friends)

My love cup is full. I just filled a weekend spending time with the best of friends. It is never enough time with them and that is precisely how I know that these friendships are the real deal.
It's left me thankful this morning for people who see me and know me and still love me.
"Happiness is time spent with a friend and looking foward to sharing time with them again."
- Lee Wilkinson

Of course, it also leaves me pensive...

I believe wholeheartedly that the word "friend" is bandied about just as carelessly as the word "love" and the word "awesome." I already covered "love" in a previous posting. "Awesome" is a word I use daily and shouldn't. When I stood at the Grand Canyon and marveled at creation at its finest, that was awesome. When my children first showed me their little faces and I was profoundly moved at what God had made--that was awesome. There are a few, but only a few other moments in my life that qualify the use of that word.

Now for friendship. Facebook puts it into perspective for me. In a world where we are now all "friends" with people from every single stage of our lives in a way that wasn't even possible just a few years ago, it stands to be evaluated. What is my standard for allowing people into my life?

"True happiness consists not in the multitude of friends, but in their worth and choice."
- Samuel Johnston


I've always told my kids that success in life is not measured by how many guests come to your birthday party. I could begin to talk about what I do think success is, but that is definitely a whole separate blog! Funny, though, to some adults now, success seems to be measured by the number of facebook friends!

"Little do men percieve what solitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love."
- Francis Bacon

So, let's be honest for a moment and talk about friends.

There are the ones that we let into the circle of trust. You know that circle. Inside it are very few people. They are the ones you call when you're sick and you need help. Or the ones who you don't clean the house for. These are the ones who come first when your dad dies and cry with you. They are the ones who tell you you're ridiculous for complaining about something stupid your husband says and remind you of who he is, not what he said. They love your children almost as much as you do and cry with you when those same children leave home.
These are rare and beautiful. They come along maybe once in a lifetime. They are to be cherished.

"I do not wish to treat friendships daintily, but with the roughest courage. When they are real, they are not glass threads or frost-work, but the solidest thing we know."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Then we have the friends that we thought were the first variety. Unfortunately, these friends look and sound like the first lovely friends, but when push comes to shove and you need a little love, well......
These are the friends who did let the boy come between you or saw a chance to use your shoulders to bump them up to something greater and took it.
These are the ones that we see down the aisle at Meijer and we quickly turn the other way and pray they didn't see us. And then we spend the rest of the grocery shopping experience peering and ducking and hoping we make a clean getaway.
You know what, on second thought let's not talk about those friends. Suffice it to say, we've all been there.

"Misfortune shows those who are not really friends."
- Aristotle

Next group, genuinely great people who we really, really like and when we see them we are excited to catch up and usually say, "You know, we really should get together!" but somehow both parties know that will probably never happen. We wish it would in a way, but in our crazy lives filled with obligations and rare free time, we are hopefully using those rare free moments to fill with our very favorite things.

I found a new group this year. I only found it as we are removed from our traditional setting where we make friends. We have been outside of any church body for almost a year. No, we are not rebelling. Just resting. We've been in ministry for so long and needed some time to see straight. We were brought to a place of perspective--on the outside looking in. Can I just tell you, the view is simply FASCINATING!!!!! But, I digress.
In this time where worship is not just a Sunday morning experience but a complete lifestyle, and as we have traveled the country with that mindset prevalent in our minds, we have found the most interesting thing.
True, deep friendships can be made in a moment when they are brought together because of a like Spirit. When God diverts your path in an obvious way to cross paths with someone unlikely and in about ten seconds you find out that they not only believe what you do, but are passionate about the same things and moving in the same purpose, your life changes. Church happens. And there is a promise of a future for this friendship but perhaps only after this life ends.

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious, it is the true sourse of art, science, and friendship."
- Albert Einstein


Kinda makes me wanna update my friend list.

Finding One

Amidst the clamor, there stands One waiting for me.

In amongst all the things needing to be done and lights and noise and words and crowds of people and opinions, there stands One who knows my name and how many hairs I have on my head.

Very near the hearts of children needing to be seen and loved and heard, One stands poised and ready to pour out love.

In amongst theologies, loudest worship, taxable giving and prayer chains, there stands One...waiting.

Between two hearts longing to draw near to each other, surrounded by walls of regret, harsh words, and old hurts stands One Who has the power to join hearts and spirits and wipe away brokenness.

In the arms of this One lie bodies and hearts needing mending.
Broken hearts sit, often unaware,  in his hands.
Broken spirits break His heart.
Tears for each are kept in a bottle.

Love is waiting.

I can't find it for you. I cannot spell out your need. I can't even give the love of God to my own children.
My hands are tied. They have no power to give you or anyone else the knowledge of His love and fill the shape of the hole in your heart that longs to be filled.
I would if I could.

I would hear your hurts and open you up and pour the goodness I know in.
I can't.
But it's there.

I can't see the wind, but it's there.
Can I see the results of it?

Love is like that.
A powerful, moving force. Unseen except for the results.
It has the power to change the very landscape, the view, the perspective, the desires, the motives, the very soul hidden so deep no one knows--but One.

It's never about rules. It's never about accomplishments. It's about a need, a longing for SOMETHING, and the ability of One to be all.

"I’m looking for a place
that I can plant my faith
one thing I know for sure
I cannot create it
I cannot sustain it
It’s Your love that’s captured me...

You and You, alone
Keep bringing me back home.

You are my strength..."
(song by Michael Gungor)

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Sticks and Stones

comparison: the quality of being similar or equivalent

A complete stranger completely took the wind out of my sails last night.  One comment that he will never remember he made, that he would certainly not know sucker-punched the living daylights out of me, and I'm scrambling to regroup.

I've shared some of my past.  I've given you some snapshots into my family life growing up.
But for two huge reasons, I have kept and will continue to keep a lot out of the public's view.

One, my family had made quite a name for itself in our area, especially the church community.  It seems most people know me the minute they hear my maiden name.  The reports I hear from those folks are glowing.  They saw something that my sister and I did not.  During all of the controversy surrounding the death of my parents, there were a lot of ugly words going around about me and about my husband and we have chosen to not even play in that game.  Most folks just didn't know and didn't really care to see what was really happening.

Two, my past is not my present, nor is it my future so I try not to linger there.
But occasionally, it catches up with me.

So, when I do speak about it, it's because I'm needing to be real.  Not to slander.  Ever.
With that said, I will tell you a little about my mother.

I believe she was a deeply sad person.  I have tried through many avenues to figure out when that started for her.  I'm pretty sure she was a very little girl when she felt she needed to take on the world, fists raised.  Because I knew her as very angry.
Most people saw a smile.  I did not.

My mother never made an effort to show me love.  Not even when I was a tiny girl.  We never bonded as most mothers and daughters do.  Oddly, I never really saw her bond with anyone.  People thought they were close with her, but there was a huge disconnect between who she was when she stepped out the door and who she was at home.
She became a mastermind at maintaining her image.

It's next to impossible to maintain a relationship that has no foundation.  You can do "the thing" all day long, but in the end, when push comes to shove, relationships need depth and heart.  They simply do not exist when they are built on a smokescreen.

I'm going to be brutally honest right now.  Perhaps more transparent than I ever have let myself be in these public words.

I struggle daily to forgive my mother.

It makes me cry because I feel so flawed to even say that.

But, the heart of the issue is that I cannot understand a woman who could not love her little girl.  No matter what happened, no matter what damaged her, I was her little, tiny girl and I was worth loving.  There was no love shown in our home.  You may not believe that statement, but it was true. A roof was over our heads and there was food on the table, so I suppose to some degree you could call that love.
It took me years to allow myself to see the disparity between what I knew and what love looks like.

And, no matter how hard I've tried to reason out some excuses for that, I can't find them.  No one's past can excuse how my sister and I were raised. because I now know it's possible to change the patterns we knew.
With the help of God, I did.

So, every day I forgive her for pretending to love me.
But some days that truth hurts more than others.

This is such a hot button with most women because most women have mothers who hugged them and whispered love in their ears, wiped their tears, sat with them when they were sick, and reveled in their children's successes.  Very few women can relate to what it feels like to have a mother/daughter relationship as nonexistent as mine was, so very few can understand my story.  But it's so vitally important to realize that not all mothers behave the way we think they should.  Mothering is not always instinctive.
Some of us were left on our own when we needed our mothers most.

I reintroduced myself one day to someone I had barely known as a teenager when we saw each other at the store a couple years ago.  She asked (like so many do) about my parents.  SUCH a tricky question.  I have various answers depending on what I think folks want/need to hear.
I told her my mother had died and a tiny bit of the story behind it.  She proceeded to tell me her story.  As a woman with about six decades of experience under her belt, she finally told her own mother that she felt like their relationship would end up killing one of them if it continued to be as unhealthy as it was.
This woman is a beautiful mother of several children with a precious heart who had to separate from a toxic relationship with her mother.  And her skin has become thick because of that decision.
I am still recovering from the shock of finally having someone to relate with.

I decided as a barely eighteen year old mother that I would do everything the opposite of my mom.  I lavished love and praise on my husband (that was easy and natural to do).  I snuggled and kissed my babies and poured every single ounce of my heart and soul into them (which turned out to be the most natural thing in the world).  I have made a lot of mistakes, but my family can never deny how much I have loved them.

All through my childhood a phrase was spoken in our home that I learned never to repeat.  It was used in moment of anger and sometimes just to wound.  "You're just like you're mother."  Or father.  Whichever suited them and would hurt the most.  Every time I heard it, my own heart silently screamed, "NO!  I'm not!!  See me for me.  See me at all."
No two people are the same.  No one really likes to be compared.  We long to be recognized for our uniqueness--our very own individualtiy.

Last night when the man said I look exactly like my mom, I could have thrown up.  There is nothing I want less than that association after all these years of trying so hard to be the opposite.
The irony of it all was I had had the best day.  I was out with a woman who has become like a mother to me, my best friend and her mother and my daughter.  It was a mother/daughter girls' night and we were laughing and singing and having a ball.  And here he came with his words and knocked me flat.

My fourteen year old wise, wise daughter said to me, "Mom.  The enemy knew what a great day you had with your real mom, and he just tried to upset you."
She is amazing and so right.

We get going, pedaling uphill through life and sometimes each push on the pedal feels like torture.  We get some momentum and coast a ways and then hit a rock and, BOOM, flat tire.
But, I'm going to do my best to shake that flat tire off and get back on my bike.

The view from the good places is spectacular, and well worth the climb.  The enemy might like to  distract me from the amazing things God is doing in me, but I know the sound of his mean, ugly voice and I quit listening to it a loong time ago.

How?  It's a choice.  To keep the truth about how loved I am always in the front of my mind.  To ignore the comparisons I have always heard and find my identity in who I've learned I am outside of any other person.  To think about others that are hurting before myself and be willing to be used--even it's just telling my story so maybe someone else can relate and not feel so alone.

To remember to rush into love with total abandon no matter the risk.
Loving, for real is worth it every time.

Out of control...?

It's funny how quickly a day can spiral out of control. Or a truck when the tire blows.
I cannot even believe I'm writing this because it was not even a year and a half ago when I wrote this post chronicling another accident my son had.

Today, my son and Babe the big, blue truck had their last ride together. And another huge Ford (and an even huger God) saved his life.

Strange things happen in heads when a, "Wow. This day could have wrecked my life!" moment hits you between the eyes. Everything looks a little different. Every word you said earlier in the day, every weird "coincidence" looks a little less coincidence-y, every hug gets a little tighter.

On his way home from work, his right rear tire blew spinning his truck on the expressway. Facing the wrong direction, he saw a truck and camper and in order to miss hitting it he spun the wheel which sent him careening into the air and then he landed upside down crunching the roof to his head and tipped over one more time.
The truck and camper stopped, and two men on their way to hunting camp ran over to check on him.
This, my husband heard while on the phone with his son.
The second man peered in through the windshield and said, "Kirksey!" Yup. It was a friend. And volunteer fireman at that. They both were. They had called for help, and got Justin out and safely away from the vehicle and waited until his dad showed up.

Mom heard the phone call and fought vomit for 25 or so agonizing minutes waiting to hear her son's voice.

He has two scratches. And he's sore. And he is praising God. Because even though his truck, which was his prized possession is gone, and he's unsure of how God will provide the next one, he is alive. My son laughed and hugged me while I sobbed and said, "Momma, I'm fine. I'm alive! The enemy thought he could win, but God's got me."

And the rest of the night we all just keep looking at him.

I don't ask God, "Why?"
I never have. I guess no matter what has ever happened to me no matter how dark the day or devastating the circumstances, I've always known He is in control. I have wished for things to be different. I have begged that He would choose a different way, but because I know He is God I guess deep down I decide to let Him be.

It was just this morning that Christian and I had this conversation. We said that there were definitely a few things God could allow in our lives that could raise that "why" question. But, so far, we hold His hand and trust His plan. It's bigger than we can see.
I don't mean to sound all Pollyanna, and I guess if my life was perfect one could laugh at my naïveté.
But, like we discussed this morning, how does one KNOW the love of God? Like know it in your core.
If you wanted to know, but didn't know, how do you think He could prove it to you?

Blessings? Money? A perfect life?
Because I found His love when my heart was broken. It was always there, but it wasn't the great moments in my life that drew me. It was the deep, dark pain-filled ones.
That's where He waited for me.
And once I knew Him more, I recognized Him in the great moments. Now, I see His love everywhere.
Even in a car accident.

He loves my son. He is doing huge things in him. Huge!! And my son will continue to be used in HUGE ways that most people don't see to represent love. And when a really bad thing happens, he sees the love in spite of it and running through it.

Crap happens. It does. Folks deserve better than this world full of crap happening. But like so many arteries running from the heart outward runs LOVE so huge it makes the crap irrelevant. Or at least forgettable.

Or, it makes love the part worth focusing on.

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Bloom where you're planted

I wish I knew more of their story. Over the years, I've picked up on bits and pieces, but truthfully what happened when my husband's grandparents were young isn't the story I have to tell.
These beautiful people have been married for 66 years, and their joined hearts have inspired our marriage like no one else.
From the first story I was told about them, I heard about love. From the first introduction I witnessed love.

These are people who have raise four beautiful children into huge-hearted adults. These are people who have loved grandchildren and great-grandchildren and are even loving great-greats!

I'll never forget being a brand-new clueless bride poring through my Better Homes and Garden cookbook desperately to find a recipe worthy to bring to my new husband's grandparents farm to a family get-together not even a month after our wedding.You see, Grandma holds the title for best cook ever, and when she complimented my silly Waldorf salad in my brand new green bowl that I got as a wedding gift, she made me feel noticed and accepted in one sentence.

At some point in those first few years she brought me upstairs to her attic room to see the photo albums she had made for each of her many grandchildren including the beautiful one she had made that chronicled my husband's life from infanthood to every single soccer and basketball article and picture of him that existed. And she had even included me and information she had clipped from newspapers about me and my family.

And though these huge family functions overwhelmed and frightened me a little since I had literally never been to one, I was drawn like a magnet to the concept of family. And, in retrospect, this is where I learned that it was possible. It was possible to pour out love and that love would draw a family together.

I do not have words to describe what it meant to me some years later to receive a birthday card addressed to "Granddaughter" in Grandma's beautiful penmanship the year after I lost the last grandparent from my side of the family.
I remember weeping at the mailbox.

There are a million sweet and funny stories that my husband tells from poison oak, to pancakes and apple pie to bb guns, smelt-dipping and four-wheelers. All precious memories from his childhood at his grandparents' farm.

Memories that I can't relate with. Memories that leave me conflicted between jealousy and just plain gratefulness that little Christian knew this kind of unconditional love.

There was a day not too many years back when we saw Grandma shopping with her daughter at the mall. We happily stopped to get a hug and catch up and along came Grandpa. Grandma explained with a smile that Grandpa couldn't stand to be away from her for too long so he had to find them and tag along.

These two. They're like teenagers. She still giggles. He still gives sweet kisses. There is never a question in my mind that there has never been and could never be another--for either. A precious, priceless example of two hearts joined as one.

We were honored beyond words to have Grandpa pray for the meal at Addie's wedding in September. With much emotion he poignantly expressed his love for his family and his God, and prayed blessings over this new love.
So what inspired this tribute to these beautiful two that literally painted a picture of love to this girl who so needed the illustration?

We all have moments of panic as we age don't we? Please be honest, ladies. It's a cutthroat world out there (pun intended) and most gals threw the rulebook out. I'm pretty irritated at all these aging females cheating their way to elderly. Truthfully, most are laugh-worthy with their surgical Cheshire-cat grins. Because with all of the suctioning and tucking and altering that money is buying, the playing field is no longer even.
And, if we're still being honest, a full length mirror can make even the most loved girl (who is well past spring chicken) feel, well, like one fat hen.

But, I had an epiphany of sorts thanks to Grandpa and Grandma. We had the distinct privilege of having lunch with the lovebirds a few weeks ago, and the way he looks at her...
It dawned on me that it's more than possible. As far as I know, Grandma hasn't resorted to plastic surgery of any kind. But there is no greater beauty that I have ever seen or experienced than the warmth of her love and her smile.
She has spent her years serving and loving everyone whom she has known. And this girl who desperately needed to know a grandma's love and witness ageless marital love is eternally grateful.

She is my picture of beauty. The kind that lasts.

And Grandpa. Everyone who knows him loves him. He didn't need to preach to stadiums full of people in order to impact the world. He simply lived his life as a servant of his God and in service to his country and family. And he poured love into his marriage.
And that example has impacted and will continue to--exponentially.

All I want is to be loved like that. And hitched to a guy who is much like his grandpa, my odds are looking pretty good!
I told him today how much he reminded me of his Grandpa and it brought him to tears. He was moved deeply.
See, to my husband, preaching to stadiums could never touch the opportunity to love the ones God has given him. He considers it his highest calling. It is an honor that he does not take lightly.
And we are beyond grateful for a couple to represent what that looks like.
We thank you and love you deeply, Grandpa and Grandma.

Ollie and Dollie 2012

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Extravagance

I'm lying in my hammock right now on a stunningly beautiful summer afternoon. The birds are singing their happy little bird songs. The air smells like freshly cut grass and the white pine I am lounging under. The air is so warm that even this usually cold, sun-loving girl is perfectly content in the shade. All I hear is the buzz of a bug nearby, and the gentle breeze as it tickles the new leaves in the woods that create my view. To have this moment makes me feel so loved.

All morning my heart felt so quietly worshipful. I put on my music as I drove over a hundred miles on my Thursday morning errands, and two songs came on that spoke of extravagant love. Though those particular words have never processed in my brain before, today I heard them twice before noon. Extravagant Love.

I am in awe of a God Who gives and takes away, and all the while loves extravagantly.

Let me explain.

Two families I know have had major life crises recently. One family faced a medical diagnosis that rocked their world and left them reeling. After many weeks, the husband and father was relieved to hear his story isn't ending quite yet.

Just yesterday, another family suddenly and tragically lost its husband and father. Their world will simply never be the same.

I lie here in my hammock contemplating how these two families have the potential--through the worst life has to offer--to know more than ever the extravagant love of God lavished upon them.

Extravagant--Exceeding reasonable bounds

Lavish--Expended or produced in abundance

Many would say, I'm sure, that a loving God would never allow these things to happen to His children. It's a deep discussion that cuts to the core. For all of time wounded hearts have questioned His love based on circumstances.

I don't have anything all figured out, but this is what I know deep in my spirit that no one can ever take from me. I wasn't created and given my life on this earth for my own happiness. There are most certainly blissful moments of it, but my happiness is not my purpose.

I was created to fit perfectly into a plan that draws me, and those around me, safely and securely like a puzzle piece nestled into the heart of God. All that has happened to me until the day I leave this world has been and will be to help me hear His voice more clearly and draw me closer to Him. My purpose is so much bigger than this life. My joy, my pain, my sorrow, my success is all about knowing Him more. It's up to me how quickly I learn the lessons.

There was a song by Ginny Owens that was popular several years ago that really hit me hard. I used to quite boldly sing this song, and it is powerful. So powerful, in fact, that I think God took me up on it.

It goes back to the power of words. I've posted quite a bit about it--here for instance where I tell the story about how my family got sick after singing words from a song.

We, as a family take our words very seriously. Remember that song, "Be careful little mouth what you say"? The rest of it says, "For the Father up above is looking down in love, so be careful little mouth what you say." He's not waiting to pounce on us for saying the wrong thing, but since He first created the world with the very words He spoke, He gave words power and it's up to us how we use them. They can be used for our good or we can use them against ourselves.

So, can I just ask you to listen to what you're saying and singing?

Back to Ginny. Click here to listen.You see, it was as I told God that I was willing to go through any trial if it would draw me closer to Him, that He gently took me by the hand and walked me through the valley of the shadow of death. Through some very dark moments and unusual circumstances, I lost both of my parents within six months of each other. In that same time frame, Christian and I were brought to a place of surrender in our lives and in our marriage that taught us in a way we can never forget about the extravagant love of God.

Would I go through it again? In one way, that's tough to say. In fact as I heard those words again today in the song, I hesitated before I was willing to sing them. That stove He let me touch so I would learn was hot! And I learned!

In another way, all I want is more--more of the clear vision deep in my very soul that knows how loved I am.

When I was in school, I had a teacher (Christian school, remember?) tell the class that when we heard that someone else was going through something tragic, that in our hearts we shouldn't ever feel relieved that it wasn't us, but rather we should wish it was us, since we know God well enough and could handle it better than that person could.

Wow.

I can't wrap my head around that thinking. I find in it some major flaws. But you can't help but wonder (can you?) when you hear of someone's suffering, how you would handle it.

I have had days when it felt like darkness had settled on me like a blanket. Days when it felt like my tears never dried up. There are songs for those moments. Words that I would whisper aloud because I had no others. Words of praise. Words of life. Even if my voice would be shaky, my heart was confident that I was loved no matter the circumstance.

I am nowhere near perfect, but my roots go deep. I love the verse that says,

But blessed is the man who trusts me, God, the woman who sticks with God. They're like trees replanted in Eden, putting down roots near the rivers—Never a worry through the hottest of summers, never dropping a leaf, serene and calm through droughts, bearing fresh fruit every season.

There are definitely times when I fret and question and wrestle. But He's a big enough God to wrestle with! He can definitely handle everything I bring to the mat!

Christian said today that if he and I are talking and he asks a question of me, he is really caring about my response if he waits to hear my answer.

Ever talk to someone who doesn't even wait to hear what your asking before they give their answer? These folks just want to be heard. They don't really care to hear the answer.

He said that some people approach God, in the wrestling, with that attitude. As if they already have the answers.

Some, however, are seekers waiting to know what He says so they can know how to respond.

So, go ahead and ask God the tough questions. But do it when you really want to hear His answer, not just because you already have your mind made up with what you have to say.

When was the last time you were lavished upon with something extravagant? Ever?

I can honestly say that the only time in my life I have known extravagance, is this love I've found.

Just so you know, it's right there waiting for you, too.

 

Leave nothing but footprints...

I heard a quote this morning as I took some time to myself to watch a movie. The story was about a mother who is conflicted between her own needs and dreams, and the need to follow through with the choices she had made and do what she knew was right.

She said, "When a woman makes the choice to marry and have children, in one way her love begins but in another way, it stops. You build a life of details and you just stop, and stay steady so that your children can move and when they leave they take your life of details with them. Your expected to move on again, but you don't even remember what moved you because nobody has asked in so long. Not even yourself."

Every single woman has a story. The grandmother you knew with gray hair and a worn-out body was once a woman with plans and dreams. She became a mother at some point, and if she was a good one motherhood became her world. Loving and serving those around her replaced the things that she had envisioned once upon a time.

It is the constant laying down of self that looks the most like love. Every mother that stands out in that role has succeeded this way.


“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”
― Joseph Campbell

It's so easy to get lost in the shuffle of details. I lose myself all the time. I get so busy making everything happen for everyone that I forget Alison. I leave her in the dust somewhere wondering how to find her way back. And then I do exactly the opposite of my intention to do everything right by making the family around me miserable instead of creating the happiness I'm working so hard to create.
But, I must say, I have never felt like I've lost any dreams along my path. What God has given me became a dream that I never knew I had. As my children grow and are at the very edge of the nest, it sure does make a girl think about who she is and will be after all the commotion.

At this point, I find myself daring to dream some new dreams. It's a fascinating view.

Now, I'm going to be honest here. I think there is a generation of mothers and wives that have begun to think of the commitment to being a wife and/or mother as a hobby. They've left themselves an opt-out clause in the back of their minds. These women are bent on the pursuit of their own happiness above all else and have no qualms making sure that their own needs are met.

It's a far cry from the kind of woman I want to be. I made a commitment to be a wife and there is no opt-out. I chose to become a mother and until these children of mine are firmly established on their own two feet, I am here for them. Above all else, God has given me the responsibility to love Him, my husband and my children--in that order.

It's the balance that's the rub.

The other day, I was hiking in some of God's most beautiful wilderness with my family. As I walked, I thought of the hundreds of walks our family has taken together all over this country. I thought of mountain trails with snakes, and beaches with dolphins. I remember taking home with me a beautiful acorn or seashell or stone and hoping that that token would be a reminder of that moment.

I then remembered a sign I had seen in some national park that said, "Take nothing but memories. Leave nothing but footprints." There is no item that can magically transport me back to a time I'd like to revisit. Although I've told God several times that I hope in heaven we get to revisit a favorite moment or two. What I wouldn't give to snuggle one of my toddlers again and smell their little necks and get a big, ol' sticky kiss. But, for now, I take with me the memories, tucked safely in my heart, and pull them out every now and again and roll them around in my mind like so many seashells from so many precious moments.

As I walked behind my husband on our hike, I tried following in his footsteps for a few minutes. I could do it for a short while only since my stride isn't quite the length of his. As I walked, I hoped he'd walk in a way that I could keep up. That he would consider me behind him, and make sure I was taken care of.

Don't we owe that to these children we've committed to blazing a trail for? To find the balance in such a way that they are not our burden, but our gift. And that we are committed to walking in a way that honors them and makes a way for them to be all they are called to be.

To consider them as we create the path

Today, I want to thank my friend, the single mother who has shown me what sacrificial love looks like as she blazes a trail hand in hand with her God and leaves clear footprints for her son. She has chosen to find the balance between her dreams and the commitment she has to being the kind of mother her son will always be thanking his God for.

I honor my friend, the mother with several little ones. Juggling her work, the constant needs of a household and her babies, the needs of her husband, taking care of an elderly grandparent, and fending off the ever-present option of getting lost in the details. She does it with selflessness and love and it shows.

The proof is in the pudding on this one. When you look at the children, you see the love of the parents. When you get one of their hugs, you can tell the love they get from their mothers.

My prayer is to love. It's that simple. To love and not get lost. To love even a fraction of the way my God loves me.

Hats off to you, moms. And Happy Mothers' Day.

A Sea of Faces

So yah, we took off to Canada, eh?

Christian had business in Montreal and so Kyrsten and I tagged along. Not my first choice of destinations, as a matter of fact, so far it's lived at the bottom of my list of really useless places to visit.

It's cold, it's stinky (literally), it's expensive, it's pretty base (NOT a family town), and there's really nothing to do other than shop. Which, on occasion is a fun thing for this girl, but not with 16% sales tax and not really for me at Louis Vuitton. No offense, Louis, but I'm more of a Target girl, and high-end to me is the Loft outlet.

Plus, I'm not a city girl by any stretch of the imagination. Seen plenty of them, and though they may entertain me for a day, they really make me long for home, or at least a place where birds actually sing.

Yes, I realize that sounded a bit Snow White-esque.

 

This particular city adds to my stimulation overload by adding this little thing called French into the mix. All signs, menus, and anything else helpful are useless to me here. As are my maps and translator for my maps since my data on my now not-so-smart-phone is at a premium outside the good old US of A. Neat. This makes big city navigation extra-fun.

Especially because no one here likes me. Actually, I think no one here likes anyone else--at all. I do a lot of observing wherever I find myself, and here, more than anywhere else I've been, folks keep to themselves. The streets are jam-packed with folks walking with purpose and intention and no one looks anyone else in the eye. No one.

No one moves on the sidewalk to let me/us through. They just walk--rudely. Kyrsten and I found ourselves moving out of people's way and saying, "Excuse me" almost constantly.

I haven't seen one other person do either of those things even once here.

It's like the land of the unseeing and unseen, and everyone wants to remain that way. A sea of faces of every shade and shape. Some trying so hard to project an image and others apparently not even giving a darn. Not even a little one.

 

We did get to talk to one very nice man over dinner. I spent the evening observing him and listening to him, and there was one sentence that really struck me. In case he were to ever read this and because it's irrelevant, I will not reveal why he said it. He said in reference to his past and quite embarrassingly, that he was just a statistic.

Sure got me thinking. I started to think about how many statistics I was a part of. Oh, boy. These are just a few of the boring ones.

 

I am a dog owner. That makes me a part of the 32.7% of the US population that had a dog in 2007.

I brush my teeth at least twice a day. This puts me in the range with 75-86% of the rest of the world.

I am among the 84% or so of women who have remained faithful to their husband. Neat, huh? Christian thinks so.

 

So who cares? How does this relate?

Well, all these people I see who a trying so hard to blend in, really, in their heart of hearts don't want to be just a statistic. Each of these people long in the deepest part of them to be loved and SEEN; to matter somewhere, somehow to someone. No ones wants to remain faceless--just a statistic--no matter the front they put up.

Despite all the ads and pictures I've seen here that seem to represent how one should look, I didn't see even one person walking the streets that really looked like those pictures. Rather, I looked into the eyes of a lost and bearded homeless man who, quite frankly, scared me to the depths with what seemed to lurk within him. I looked into the eyes of a green-haired girl with a sign asking for change and saw someone's baby girl--lost and alone.

I didn't see 5'11" size 2, perfectly dressed supermodels.

I saw a bunch of people locking themselves into safe places of anonymity.

 

So, I try to determine how to bring this home. Honestly, I don't see this kind of attitude quite as much at home. Especially, in small-town-USA. Folks where I live still trust the honor system where I pick berries. They literally leave a jar for folks to put their cash. They still smile at me and might even hold the door for me. And I enjoy doing the same.

While in Montreal, I still smiled at every single person whose glance even hinted my direction. I still held the door for people and stepped out of the way every single time. I say, "excuse me" and "please" and "have a great day" like I always do at home. The fact that I don't get a response makes me want to do it more and perhaps extend a little hope or love--or even just a spark of humanity.

 

And it makes me want to hug my family and be seen. And encourage them to shine a little brighter in a dark, lonely world. To look for ways to show people that someone, somehow, sees them.

That's really what it's all about, isn't it? To look into people's eyes and help them see that they matter? To show them that there is way more to living than projecting an image--no matter what that image may be. To care about the lonely and unseen.

Count me in, eh?

 

Pure Bliss

"Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise."
Thomas Gray

The truth is, I'd really rather not know.

If I had a dollar for every time I'd thought that very phrase, I'd retire right now. Because knowing better means you should do better, right? Once I know something, I can never again claim ignorance as my excuse to remain the same. I must change.

This morning when I woke up, I had a YouTube viewing opportunity. It was a thirty minute journey prefaced by the comment, "I couldn't stop crying." I knew, if I watched it I would open my heart to someone's pain and inevitably I would feel compelled to do something. To know, or not to know?

Obviously, the easier path is always to not know. Somewhere in the last few years, perhaps it was when I told God He had me for all and whatever, He has shown me my very own Pandora's box.

Remember The Matrix? I took the red pill. Fortunately, my family did, too because if I was alone in this, I don't know if I could have survived.

Yesterday, my family and I visited a farm and finished our learning about the benefits of drinking raw milk. That is, unpasteurized, non-homogenized milk. The same stuff that our government has deemed unfit and dangerous is full of extreme health benefits for our family. The government is so scared of folks drinking it that they consider it illegal. Really. Drinking (buying) milk right from the cow is illegal in most states. Ma and Pa Ingalls would be so confused! Now, I'm not here to tout the benefits of our choice. I'm just using an example. I balked at learning about this one. I had read (and read and read) about the benefits and knew that eventually, I wouldn't be able to deny it, but I also knew that once I made the leap it was going to cost me; cost me money, convenience, time, and once again, we are traveling farther down the road called "Weird" as a family. Now that we made the jump, I'll never look back. I know it was the right choice for us, and I will fight to protect this decision we have made.

A million times I have been through this process. It's not gotten easier. I have learned about everything from air fresheners to immunizations. None of these things have made me popular. All of these things have made me better. I guess that's what it comes down to. What's important? Going with the flow or being obedient? Just like my kids, once upon a time, I drag and maybe stomp my feet occasionally when I need to obey. But, always, when I was asking them to obey, it was with their best interest in mind. Good parents don't usually say, "No," just to hear our own voice, do we? Usually we have some inside knowledge and are just trying to protect our babies from pain.

I'm going to go deep here, but I have to say that I believe the biggest disservice Christianity has done to itself is the attitude it has copped, behaving as if it knows best and everyone who doesn't is just plain wrong. Like my husband says, it creates an "us and them" mentality in which no one wins. We want folks to know that we have some inside knowledge that would change the very fiber of their being. That once they know, they will find the peace they long for deep, deep in their very soul. We want them to know the love we know and the forgiveness we have found, but we do it much like the folks did a couple thousand years ago that frustrated Jesus, Himself (see Matthew 23). As a whole, we've made it about the rules and the details and the "shoulds" instead of just living the love and letting Him do His work. It's so simple and we've complicated it all up.

Yes, there is One answer to man's humanity. I do not believe there is any other way to spend an eternity with our Creator than to have surrendered to His Son. But, the problem is when we try to share that info by sharing truth in a way that makes anyone feel smaller, we have failed. Jesus never made anyone feel small. He simply loved. And this prevented folks from feeling the need to quickly feel like they had to change a million things to be loved by Him. They were loved where they were--as they were. Then, their hearts cried out for what He had to offer and they knew His Truth and it set them free. They knew better and did better from a heart responding to love.

We are afraid to hear truth because it may cost us. But is ignorance truly bliss?

If I refuse to look does it make the truth any less real?

All and whatever may not be the simplest route, but the benefit package is out of this world. And, that, my friends is pure bliss.

 

"All these victims stand in line for the crumbs that fall from the table. Just enough to get by. All the while your invitation, wake on up from your slumber. Open up your eyes. Sing like we used to. Dance when you want to. Taste of the breakthrough and open wide." Need to Breathe

Video you probably need to see...

 

Letting it all hang out...

Sometimes I get comments regarding this blog that none of you ever see. I wish they were all out there--the good, the bad, and the ugly, but for various reasons, people don't always post them right out here in the open.

That's okay, because I realize that as you read my blogs, you don't see all of my reality either. My blog is about how I hope; how I aspire to be better; how I learn and grow. It doesn't always show the nitty-gritty.

I do not have it all together. I don't even have it half together. So, when someone even hints that my blog presents Alison in a way that makes them feel, I don't even know the word...intimidated? I feel horrible. I'm gonna give you a transparent look at me. No excuses or defending myself. Just the truth.

Are ya ready? Will you still love me? :o)

I am a nag. I correct my family for bad grammar and their choices and in doing so have made them feel small. It happens way too much and I want to shut my mouth, but I don't do it even when my brain is screaming at me to shut-up!

I am very opinionated. I know how I feel and I can't be talked out of it. Maybe this means I think I'm right too often. Ouch. I don't generally share my opinion unless asked, except with my family who know my heart, but I wish I could just be more flexible.

I rarely make my bed. If someone is coming over, of course it gets made. How would it reflect on me as a woman with an unmade bed? Such a scandal. And I bought floors that hide dirt extremely well because I wash them far too infrequently.

I laugh at very inappropriate moments. Once a friend was telling me a really sad story. I mean like saw-your-leg-off kinda story and she was crying, and I started laughing. When I was supposed to give my kids "the talk" I couldn't because I laugh too hard when I'm supposed to be serious. This means I cry at the wrong moments, too. I can be watching a commercial about, I don't know--a Honda--and burst into ridiculous tears that makes my family look at me like I'm crazy. Wacky, backwards emotions.

I sit on my butt sometimes when I should be busier. I read too much. It keeps me up too late and then I sleep too long and can't get all my work done. I need a lot of sleep or I'm a cranky bear.

I forget my friends' birthdays. I am horrible at sending cards, I rarely give gifts--if I do, it's probably going to be in a Meijer bag. I just forget to be thoughtful.

Maybe because I am so self-centered so often. Case in point. This blog installment. All about me. Too many times, too many days, it's just all about Alison.

I'm not very disciplined. I eat more than I'd like, and other than the last month, I've never stuck with any form of exercise that makes me break a sweat. It's too hard (she says with a whine).

My marriage. I wouldn't trade it for anything. As much as we've loved and learned, the only reason we are who we are as a couple is the grace of God. Not because of us because we argue about the silliest stuff. And, though I sometimes think that we have some experience to pass along, I have it so not together that I wrote four blogs around an anniversary date that was a whole month off! Did you catch that? Our dating anniversary is in February--not January! Oh, my...

So, how to redeem this ME blog? Well, I claim humanity as my defense. I claim forgiveness as my get-out-of-jail-free card. I claim grace as my ticket out of all the trouble I get myself into. 

Love, does indeed, cover a multitude of sins. And, one thing I know for sure is how loved I am. It takes messing up to feel forgiven and know mercy. It takes walking a dark road in pain that is sometimes self-inflicted to recognize the warmth of love-undeserved. And that is the sweetest kind, isn't it?

Perfect? Not by a long shot. Loved? Completely.

TA-DA!!

 This is it--the final countdown! Hopefully, you've been following along and read the first three parts to this lengthy project. But, if you didn't, it's okay, because the three points that follow are the ones that count. You could throw away the rest and have the very best marriage if you lived out what you are about to read. Mainly because I didn't write them. Someone infinitely wise did and He knew what He was talking about. 

In case you've never thought about it, God gave us specific help in how to have a successful relationship by telling each sex how to do the thing that would be the most difficult, maybe not the most natural, but definitely the most rewarding for them.
What I mean is, girls, if we would just relinquish the need to control everything and allow our husband to be in the place of loving leadership that he is supposed to be, he won't be able to help but love us the way we long to be loved!
And guys, if you would love us girls as completely and unselfishly as described, we couldn't help but want to be everything you need! It's a beautiful circle in which everyone is fulfilled and loved.

If only we could just get it right!

Here's what He said...(Ephesians 5:22-28) 

3. This one's for the ladies...

 Wives, understand and support your husbands in ways that show your support for Christ. The husband provides leadership to his wife the way Christ does to his church, not by domineering but by cherishing. So just as the church submits to Christ as he exercises such leadership, wives should likewise submit to their husbands. 

 2. Gentlemen...

Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church—a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ's love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring the best out of her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness. And that is how husbands ought to love their wives. They're really doing themselves a favor—since they're already "one" in marriage.

 1. The Big Kahuna!

 I'm gonna start with a story. Once upon a time, at the Kirksey house, there was a big fight.  The details escape me, but what I do remember is that the very air in the house was palpable with the remnants whatever had happened. No one wanted to be around each other or could look each other in the eye. People had been wronged. 

All of a sudden, the husband asked his family to gather in the living room. As a demonstration of how to serve, he brought a basin of warm water and began gently washing the feet of his family. He ended by lovingly washing the feet of his wife as his children looked on. Not a dry eye in the house. 

Love enough to serve!

Service is sacrificial. It thinks of others more than yourself. It is love in action.

At the end of the day, if I can ask my husband, "How could I have served you better today?" and mean it, and if my husband will do the same, we will have the marriage dreams are made of.

 

We are working on it, are you?

Try it. I double-dog dare you!!

 Thanks for taking this journey with me. It has gotten me thinking and Christian and I talking just in the writing of it. I would love your feedback! Tell me if any of this struck a nerve or had an impact. What are your best marriage tips? 

Happy (Dating) Anniversary, Sweetheart. As always, it's all for you...


Photo credit--Addie Kirksey

As I was about to publish this post today, I learned that my aunt, that I loved so dearly, had passed away. The last couple years have been very difficult for her, health-wise, and her husband stood by her and loved and served her in a way I've never seen before. His love is exactly the kind of love I aspire to. For nearly 58 years those two have been the best of friends and I am beyond thankful for their example. Thank you, Uncle Harry, for your leadership and servant's heart. I love you.

Love is an action verb!

This is part three of four blogs that I'm writing to share what I've learned in twenty-two years of loving one man. I will finish them tomorrow on our twenty-second anniversary of being together.

If you haven't read part one or part two yet, you will want to for this to make sense. So click on those words and then stop back in here.

So, perhaps you'll find a nugget or two if you're married, would like to be married, or know someone who is married. If you do, let me know what resonates. I love your feedback!

 

7. Dream a little dream with me!

One of the saddest things I've seen is couples who forget each other. Life, kids, bills, unresolved issues--they all have a way of wiggling in between a marriage and forming a wall that grows brick by brick until folks look around and have no idea how they got there or how in the world to find their way back to each other. Or worse yet, they are unsure if they even want to. Obviously, they forgot that the person on the other side is the same person that once knocked their socks off.

How to prevent this, you ask? Other than adhering to tips 22-8, spend enough time together to dream! After all the squabbles have passed and the children are grown, there will remain two people with the potential for great things! Christian and I have big plans. I'm sooo excited to experience life with just him. Our kids know that they got a lot of our time and attention for a while, but there is a marriage here that has legs. Wouldn't that be a good thing to know as the child? I wish I would have rested on that kind of secure foundation.

It's never too late. If your view looks like some bricks, they can come down even easier than they went up. Demolition is always easier than construction.

6. Ticks and triggers

What makes me tick? Well, Christian ought to know by now. And it works to his benefit to use that information. He knows I love a good love note--even if it's written with soap on the bathroom mirror. He knows that I find a back scratch or a slow dance ultra-romantic. 

Do you know what makes the one you love happy and feel loved? Not what you would want, but what they really like. What makes them tick, trips their trigger, or floats their boat? 

Find it. Do it. It screams love!

5. Trust Me.

Be worthy of trust. 

And no matter what your past issues are with folks who have hurt you and left your trust account in a deficit, bestow trust. It's a priceless gift that sets a foundation upon which every thing else can be built and remain solid.

4. It's you (two) against the world.

For this reason, a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. (Genesis 2:24)

As much as I want to finish the remaining three now, they are so important to me they deserve their own page. So I will finish them tomorrow on the big day. You might as well begin the drumroll now...

 

Pie, songs, and sweet little lies...

 

This is the second installment of a series. In case you didn't catch installment #1, you can see it here.

Otherwise, to quickly recap, what follows is a partial list of my 22 best marriage tips in honor of the 22 years I have enjoyed with my sweet husband.  Numbers 22 down to 14 have already been covered so I begin again...

13. Sing, sing a song.

Have some fun, people! Surely, you have a song that's "your song". Make it your ringtone. It'll make you smile. My phone screams an eighties, huge-haired-band's version of a ballad every time my man needs to hear my voice ('cause why else would he be calling?!). 

Or learn and play a game together instead of mindlessly staring at the TV every night. We turned off our cable for a couple years and took up Cribbage. Quit laughing! We had a blast and still do when we pull out a deck of cards and laugh and play and talk and dream together. Try it. You'll like it!

12. Some things need to be kept sacred.

This is Christian's contribution. I asked him what advice he would give, and he said things like, "No gassy food before bed. Keep matches in the bathroom (or Febreze)." And, "Keep some things sacred." For us, this means that I want my husband to keep finding me attractive and vice versa. This means that though we share a bathroom, there are certain things we don't share that we do in the bathroom. Get it?

 

11. Eat the pie called Humble.

Do you need to control and be right, or tear down a potential marriage-killing wall? When you're wrong, and sometimes even if you weren't, be humble and do what it takes to fix it. There is no such thing as winning a fight, is there? No one really wins anything. 

And, when you say you're sorry, mean it. No apologies like I heard growing up like, "I'm sorry you're so sensitive." 

It doesn't count.

10. Line it up.

God is first. He's the glue--the very fabric of who we are as a couple. If I'm not dialed in like I should be, my marriage will suffer. I will expect things from Christian that aren't fair to him. I will become unfairly needy of him when my priorities are out of line. I will be unbalanced and he will feel that. 

When God is in the right place, I am a better wife, and he is a better husband. It's just the truth.

But, immediately following that position is my husband. Not the kids, not my purpose, not my friends, or my needs. He won't demand too much if he feels valued, and that's most definitely a two-way street.

 

9. Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies.

Whatever I say about my husband should build him up. And he is so good about complimenting me. His nickname for me is "Beautiful." I may not be the essence of beauty at that moment, sporting bed-head and morning breath, but somehow I believe him at that moment. Gosh, I love that guy...

8. Did I mention no granny underwear?

To be continued...

 

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

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

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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