Merry Christmas!

     The end of the Mayan calendar (a/k/a the end of the world) coincided a little close to Christmas.  As we sat at home, Doom's Day Eve, discussing the matter, my husband asked me, "Is that why you brought home [take out] for supper?"  "Of course.  I'm not spending my last day on earth cooking."
     Then my youngest has the bright idea that "since we won't be here on Christmas, we should open all our gifts now!"  I try to explain to him that it wouldn't matter if he did open his gifts early, he wouldn't get to take them with him when the world ends [tomorrow].  "Yeah, but I can play with them tonight...while I'm here."   hahaha.
     Well, the world didn't end, and the closer it got to Christmas and "the reason for the season," a deeper meaning in my son's statement came to me. 

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,

that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,

but have everlasting life." John 3:16

 

God has given us a gift, His son Jesus Christ.  We have accepted that gift and it sits under our tree.  But we choose not to open it until the appointed time.  We spend our days looking at the beautiful wrapping, excited that it's all ours, wondering what's on the inside, anticipating the day when we get to Heaven and can unwrap it.  Then we will see all the love and joy and peace...all the things God promised us brought to life.

 

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and

cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness,

neither shadow of turning."   James 1:17

 

     But, what if we were impatient?  What if we didn't wait to open the gift?  What if we got so excited we just had to have it now?!  Well...we can!  In fact, God wants us to open our gifts as soon as we get them.  We can unwrap them all and have love, joy and peace while we're here!  And He wants us to use them immediately.  Not set them up on a shelf out of harm's way, just collecting dust, never doing what they were intended to do - be shared with our friends and family. 

"Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again."  Luke 6:38

 

The more we share, the more "toys" we get!  We don't have to wait till we get to Heaven!  Amazing!

     Plus - these things you can actually take with you when you go!

 

no answers

     It’s 7:30 on a rainy Monday morning. I just dropped my son off at school. How can something so simple, an ordinary everyday part of my routine, weigh so heavy on my mind. I could say I know he will be safe, that he will have a good day, that nothing will go wrong. You might say I’m just being overprotective or a worry-wart. But the thoughts of the happenings of last Friday are still fresh on my mind. I’m sure the parents of those children were just doing their everyday thing, believing their children would be safe and happy at school. But that wasn’t how it was.
     I can’t even begin to imagine how those families must feel - and honestly, I don’t want to. I don’t understand how things like this can take place. I know there are bad people in this world and that bad things happen every day. But this....not like this. I just can’t wrap my head around it all. It makes me just want to get everybody I love and care about and put them in one place and make them stay there. Safe. But I know I can’t do that. I can’t dwell on the what if’s or the why’s or how’s. My life must go on, and the lives of my children, my family and friends. I can’t live in fear of what might happen. We can’t let the bad people win.
     But what’s the answer to stop it all? I don’t think banning guns is the way to go. I have no problem with responsible people owning guns. I believe we have the right to protect ourselves. I believe there should be, and probably already are, procedures and requirements to obtain a gun. I don’t, however, believe a person should be able to buy an automatic assault rifle at their local Wal-mart. I think there should be different, maybe stricter, restrictions on those types of firearms. What those should be or how they are to be enacted and enforced, I don’t know.
     I also believe there could be a change or two made in the way mental illness is handled. I think more can be done for these people at a younger age when the signs are first noticed. And I don’t think a few days in a hospital to regulate some medication or a threat of jail is always the right thing to do. Again, I’m no expert in those things, so I can offer no real suggestion on what or how that can be done.
     As I talk this out, I guess I’m left with just a lot of questions, but I can offer no answers. I read a facebook status last night that I thought was very true. It was directed at all those who were saying we never should have taken prayer (and, in effect, God) out of schools. This person pointed out that if you have raised a God-fearing child, He never left. I believe God was in that school in Connecticut. He was with those innocent children and took them to Heaven to live with Him, away from the bad people. I can only hope the adults were as ready to go.  I have to put my faith in that God.  Faith that He will be with my children, wherever they are, and that He has their best interests at heart and can protect them more than I ever could. 
     My prayers continue to go up for the families of those who lost loved ones. I pray for the children who lived through it and will forever have this tragedy as part of their memories. For the family of the man who did this. I pray God will send peace into a small town made the center of media attention. And, in time, forgiveness to the hearts that need it.  In Jesus' name, Amen.

Five-Minute Friday: Thank You

Well, here I am doing a "Five-Minute Friday" on Monday.  I hope you all had a wonderfully blessed Thanksgiving weekend!  This week's topic is appropriately "Thank You."  You can check out all the Thanksgiving inspiration of these talented writers at Lisa Jo's website.  For now, here's what I have:

It has almost become a game. Tiny hands picking up pennies off the floor and putting them in my hand. I say "THANK YOU!" like I have just been given the grandest of treasures. This makes the baby smile, and the game continues, each time little hands putting all they can hold into my hands that can hold so much more. And when all the pennies are picked up, again I say, "Thank you!" for a job well done. As the day goes on, there are many more "Thank you’s" to be said for so many little things. Now we sit, all wrapped in a blanket, with a sippy cup of milk. The lights are off and we watch cartoons as this little one tries hard to stay awake. Then I hear soft even breathing as this little bundle relaxes and gives in to sleep. And I have to say another "Thank you!" This time to God above for giving me such a precious gift.

Five Minute Friday - Stay

OK - I know it's not Friday, but I haven't had access to a computer since I saw Lisa Jo Baker's post last week.  This week's Five Minute Friday topic is "stay."  Here's what I got:

I am at a very comfortable place in my life right now.  But I know I can’t stay here.  Soon God will move me to the next plateau.  I have viewed life at many different levels.  As a child who thought my parents could do no wrong, to a grown woman making plenty of mistakes and realizing they are human just like me.  As a new believer at the age of 9, and as a rededicated Christian many years later.  As a young wife and mother of one, then of two, then three, and now as a keeper of my home, seasoned with years of life and death, laughter and tears.  The view from all these levels has been breathtaking.  Some lush and full, others barren and dry.  But one day I will reach the top of life’s mountain.  The peak that reaches through the clouds and into Heaven.  There to stay for eternity.

Click here to meet Lisa Jo and the rest of the Five Minute Friday community.

Right On Time

     Several months ago I had the privilege of giving devotion at a ladies’ retreat. At the time I believe I did what God wanted me to do, but I have never felt completely satisfied with it. Like something was missing. Like I didn’t give the full story or get my whole point across. Well, last night as I was doing some reading, I got it. The "other half" of that devotion. It came to me plain as day, word for word, the prologue to my story:
     "Have you ever felt overwhelmed? Your brain always going over and over the list of things you need to remember? The list you have written down of things you need to do today, this week, some time this month, or just whenever you can get to it, well it just gets longer and longer. As soon as you take time to clean out that closet, then you have to pack up what you’re giving away, find somewhere to store it until you can find a place to take it, load it up, haul it off. Mark one thing off, add four. That’s where I was.
     I had prayed for God to show me something He wanted me to do. Get me out of my comfort zone.  The next thing I know, I’m trying to build a Mary Kay business, believing God had opened that door as a way for me to witness to women I otherwise would never have a chance to talk to. I realized I loved to write, and so found myself writing my church’s article for our district's monthly publication. I also took on the job of putting out the church’s "weekly" bulletin (which I was actually only getting out once a month). I had a lot of plates spinning, and no clue how to let one fall. I prayed daily for God to help me get my priorities straight.
     One particular Wednesday evening, we had moved our church services to a sister church since our pastor was helping them in revival that week. I was just a little late. This had become my normal because I seemed to be working late more and more (not so much too busy as lack of time management). By the time I got there, the place was standing room only. So I quietly scanned the room for a familiar face, and I found one in the back corner. There was one seat left on her pew, and she gladly welcomed me. I sat through the service, but I honestly couldn’t tell you what the sermon was about. All I could think about were the stops I would need to make on my way home and all that awaited me once I got there. Even while I tried to worship, again I could only ask for guidance.
     I heard Him plainly tell me I needed to go to the altar and pray, not just sit in my seat. But when the time came, I put Him off. "Lord, I don’t want to prolong the service. I really need to get home. You know what all I have to do." But it was almost like He was standing at the front of the church saying, "If you want your answer, come to me." (Looking back now, it reminds me of what we do when our children are young. You tell them to "come here;" they stand there and just look at you as if to say, "Why? You can just as easily come to me, or tell me from where you are." So we go get them and bring them to where we want them to be.) So anyway, back to my story... I kept thinking, if they’d sing one more verse I’d go to the altar. They sang the chorus three extra times, and I didn’t move. Finally they stopped singing, and I thought I was off the hook. Then the preacher turns and says, "No, we need to sing one more verse." Are you kidding me! Fine, I’ll go! And I went. I cried like I hadn’t cried in a long time. All my pent-up frustration at myself and my situation just came pouring out. I knew when I got up that God would show me exactly what I needed to change, and I now had the clear vision to see it. There was light at the end of the tunnel.
     As I made my way back to my seat and the service ended, my friend came to me, the first words spoken to me after I got up from the altar - "Would you like to do devotion at the ladies’ retreat this year?" "Yes! I’d love to!" But when I got to the car, I had to question God. "I asked you to show me what I could stop doing, and you give me one more thing to do? I don’t get it!"
     I figured I was just supposed to be a busy person. That was my lot in life, what God wanted from me. I was to get things done. Okay then. Over the next few months things did ease up though. Priorities fell into place at home and at work - God first, Family second, Career third.  My Mary Kay business settled at a level I could live with. And with an extra driver in the house, I could trust him to handle the small errands. Unfortunately, the church bulletin did get dropped, but mainly because my printer ran out of ink and my home computer crashed.
     All this led to the devotion I wrote about in "My Basket of Leftovers" post back in March. I was that loaf of bread. I knew God had a purpose for me, and I was comfortable just getting to dabble in it. But when He called me to do that "big thing," he had to pull me apart to accomplish His purpose. Why all this came to me so clearly six months after I needed it, I’ll never know. Maybe that was just the beginning of something bigger He has in store for me.  Maybe this will reach more people now than it would have then.  One thing I do know - God's timing is always perfect.

My First Five-Minute Friday

I have been reading a blog by Lisa Jo Baker for quite some time, and she has this thing she does every Friday called "Five-Minute Friday."  Once a week, bloggers from all over take five minutes and write on the same topic.  This week's topic is "Quiet."  Here's my attempt to write for five minutes flat, no editing, just typing:

I just got to work. The phone hasn’t started ringing yet. The boss is out of town. Looks like a quiet day ahead. I have a few minutes at my computer to check email. I find myself reading inspirational blog posts and daily devotions. I see that my friends on facebook are living their own lives today. In this quiet time, I hear all those voices. Some needing prayer, some giving praise for prayers answered. Do I hear God speaking to me? Yes, I think I do. I hope this quiet continues so that I can use my own voice to share what God says to me. Will it be profound? Will it be simple? Will it be something I’ve known for a long time but only now is confirmed? Will I need to make decisions that will affect not only me, but the lives of my family and others? As a wife and mother, my life is not quiet. I cherish these moments, when I can sit and listen. Sometimes nothing speaks quite so loudly as the silence.
And right on cue, the phone rings.

Here's a link to Lisa Jo if you want to try it out for yourself:   http://lisajobaker.com/2012/11/five-minute-friday-quiet/

Thank You Adam

     There’s a new preacher in town. He’s a member of my church. He’s a young man with a wife and two small children, a new home and a full-time job. At a time when he is learning his role as husband and daddy and provider, God threw him a curve and called him to preach His Word.
     I have known this man since he was a boy. A laid back, strong, quiet type. To have him now stand in the pulpit and preach to me, to be honest, is a bit surprising. In his same quiet, peaceful manner, he manages to convict my heart through his testimonies and sermons.
     He is pure emotion. He is not yet seasoned with "preacherisms" and phrases commonly used yet not fully understood. His insight into the Word of God is new and fresh. He has been a Christian a long time, but as a new preacher, he sees his life and how he lives it in a different light.
     Not unlike myself, he too rushes home from work on Wednesday evening with barely enough time to eat his supper, get himself ready, and get his family to church on time. But then he has the nerve to tell me that after all that, I should still have the energy to stand and testify about how good God is to me. Just who does this kid think he is? He’s now the man of God. A man who has answered the calling on his life and is trying to lead with an example I should want to follow. After all, as he said, what’s the point of going through all that trouble to get to church if I’m not willing to stand and praise and worship the Lord when I get there. ouch.
     He also brought an outside concern home for me this week. We all have principles we believe in, and we are sometimes called to defend our principles to those who have opposing views, or those who have no views at all and are just going along with what the media and the world have to say about it. While it’s not always easy, we know we are to stand against such evils "out there." But can you go home and stand up for your beliefs and convictions before your family? Before your wife/husband and your kids? What things do you allow or overlook in order to keep the peace at home, but strongly disagree with on facebook or around the water cooler? oh me.
     God has used this young man and his newly acquired deeper understanding of the scripture to bring into light issues in this not-as-young wife and mother’s life. Maybe even a clearer view of just the book of Genesis.  God brought form into the abyss that was my life. And over the years, through the lives and testimonies of Godly people, and countless sermons from so many different preachers, my life became full and I was able to bear spiritual fruit. Still I was left with things wandering through my mind that I could not put my finger on. I knew they were there, but I didn’t know what to call them or how to handle them. It is appropriate that God would use this man to put a name to those thoughts and convictions.
     For his name....is Adam.

Tough Love - Pro or Con?

     As a mom, it’s never easy to watch my children struggle to make decisions that I can’t (or at least shouldn’t) make for them. I can offer my two cents worth, suggest possible solutions. But in the end, I can’t force them to choose the way I think is best. With one grown daughter and a 17-year-old on the verge of manhood, I have learned this lesson many times over. That doesn’t make it any easier, especially when it’s my "baby."
     Some background. This is my 11-year-old son's second year in band. They are learning more difficult music and techniques, preparing them for marching band next year. A couple of weeks ago, the boys were running a little behind schedule and he asked if I would take his instrument by the bandroom since he wouldn’t have time. I did. The instructor asked me how much Dylan was practicing at home. "Honestly, not that much." He said, "It shows." He was starting to fall behind. I told the instructor I would push him to practice more.
     Last week, he came to me asking if I thought he should quit band. My first thought was that somebody had made fun of him or said something bad about him. My feathers got a little ruffled. Of course when I asked him why he was thinking about quitting, all I got was shrugged shoulders and "I dunno." I really didn’t get much more information as we discussed it further, other than, "It’s too hard."
     I told him he should bring his instrument home more and practice - he said his teacher didn’t let the band students leave class early enough for him to have time to go all the way to the bandroom and make it back to ride home with his brother.
     I told him to just keep his instrument in his locker - he said he didn’t like to leave it in his locker because then he would have to carry some of the things that didn’t fit, and it would require him to have to go to his locker after last period before heading to the parking lot, and he didn’t want to do that.
     I suggested that he talk to his sister about going to her house after school a couple days a week to practice. She was in band for several years, played the same instrument, and might be able to help him in some problem areas. But he didn’t know about that either.
     I finally just had to say that if he wanted to be in the band, he would have to practice more, and he would just have to find a way to make it work. If he didn’t think he wanted it bad enough to put a little effort into it, maybe be a little inconvenienced at times, then that would be his cue to lay it down. That I could not make a decision based on details and feelings that only he knew and didn’t want to share. I did, however, tell him he would have to finish out the semester in that class either way.
     I left the conversation more frustrated than angry. Frustrated that my son would only make excuses when plain, simple solutions were offered him. Frustrated that he wouldn’t just tell me what he wanted to do so I could maybe shed some light on his dilemma, and support him in whatever decision he made.
     That brings us to the present situation. This morning as the boys were leaving for school, Dylan got his backpack and his binder and was heading out the door. I asked him did he not need to take his instrument. He said he wouldn’t have time to take it to the bandroom before school started. I looked at the clock and thought he should have plenty of time, but he was in a hurry and I didn’t argue. I figured I would just take it by the bandroom for him. Then I thought about it again. He made the decision to walk out and leave his instrument, knowing he would need it for class, and possibly running the risk of being in trouble with the instructor. He knew all this, and he left it anyway. Probably thinking, as I was, that I would take it for him. But I didn’t. I feel like he is old enough to handle some of the consequences of his decisions. Was I wrong?  I feel so bad!  Should I have bailed him out? I guess we’ll see.
     Does God have this kind of parenting trouble? Dealing with me, of course he does.  When I have a problem and ask vague questions, do a lot of shoulder shrugging, and sighing "I just don’t know," instead of just pouring my heart out to Him with all I’m feeling and thinking. And when He offers help and makes a way for me to clearly see the right path, I only come up with excuses of why I can’t walk it. It's that darn free will!  He has given us instructions through His Word, but it’s up to us to decide whether or not to apply it to our lives and follow it.
     God is always there for us (as I will be for my children any time they ask), even if "being there" means letting us fall flat on our face.  As I have found the hard way, He sometimes lets us suffer the consequences of our bad decisions.  I can tell my children everything I've learned through my mistakes, as my parents tried to tell me, but it never sinks in until you experience it yourself.  Sometimes experience is the best teacher.

I Submit! I Submit!

     Well, I’m back! Not that I’ve really been anywhere. It’s just been a very busy past few weeks. Now I’m ready to get back to a routine and maybe carve out some extra writing time.
     And, believe me, it’s none too soon! I’ve been feeling the Lord calling me to get my creative juices flowing again. I just wasn’t sure in what area exactly he wanted me to go. I love to write, but sometimes it’s hard to find the rights words to put the inspiration on paper. It also requires quiet time with just me and the Lord, with pen in hand. Around here, that’s not easy to find. I also dabble in cross-stitch, I like to take pictures, and I am attempting to learn to play the piano. Did I need to get back to that project I started so long ago? Did I need to push myself to learn to play a new song? Did I need to get my family together and do some family photos? Or maybe I needed to start on my thorough housecleaning again. (Neh, but I did find a nice housekeeping schedule I think I’m gonna try.)
     I think I’ll just stick with what I enjoy most - sharing with you when God reveals things to me. This past weekend I have gotten so many messages, and I will share those in time. Lately, though, I have been reading a lot of Bible devotions, stories in scripture, and blogs by some wonderfully encouraging women. And I have been blessed to hear some awesome Spirit-filled messages through different preachers.
     Today, as I was cleaning out my purse, I was led to go back through some notes I had taken during our summer revival. The evangelist kept asking, "Did you surrender? Or did you submit?" My first thought was that both words meant the same thing, so obviously I was missing his deeper meaning. I looked them up at dictionary.com. They both were defined as "giving oneself up to the power or authority of another." But ‘surrender’ added the words "on demand or under duress." Related words for ‘surrender’ were to give up. Synonyms for ‘submit’ were comply, bow, obey, agree.
     Now my brain starts turning this over, and I apply this to my meager understanding of the two words. When I think of the word ‘surrender,’ I think of one army surrendering to another army. They do not do this willingly. The weaker army is forced into a position where they have no choice but to go with the overpowering side. In their mind, this is a temporary situation. They are doing what is necessary for the time, but already they are thinking of ways to escape. As prisoners of war, their ultimate goal is to be set free.
     Moving on to ‘submit.’ That was a little harder to apply to everyday life. As a wife, I am to submit to my husband. That is not in a way of "doing what I’m told." It’s more of a way of allowing him to be the head of the home as God intended, and supporting him in that capacity. (I must admit I struggle with this one.) For those of you not experienced in the married life, let me put it another way. When you fill out an application for a job, you submit it to the employer. Or when you enter a craft or essay, etc. in a contest, you submit your entry for the judges to review. Once you hand it over to them, it’s out of your hands. Their decision is final, and you must accept it and agree with it.
     So, in that sense, I guess I can see where the evangelist was coming from. If I simply surrender to what God wants me to do, I am in a temporary position, looking for ways to get out of it, and just waiting for time to pass. But, if I submit to His will for my life, it is out of my control. I must accept the calling, agree with it, and do my best to fulfill that obligation. Not just for a time...but for all time. Or at least until He tells me to do something else.
     "And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord..." 1 Colossians 3:23

Grocery Shopping With Jesus

     I met God today. He was at the grocery store. Ok, so I can’t tell you what He looks like or anything, but I think we buy a lot of the same items. Much the same way you see the same people on every aisle - you’re going one way, they’re going the other, and by the time you’re finished shopping you feel like you’ve made a friend even though you’ve probably not said a word to each other - that’s the way I saw Him. He was on almost every aisle.
     You see, this is the week the big bills are due, which leaves very little money for anything else. I had prayed earlier in the week, and I had my list made. So I head to the store with $100 to buy groceries and put some gas in my car. It occurred to me (by way of the Holy Spirit) that I should buy groceries first, just what was on my list, and put what was left in gas. My goal was to split it $70/$30.
     His first appearance was in the pharmacy department. There was some over-the-counter medicine I needed. As is becoming more frequent, they were out of my usual generic brand - or so I thought. I knew I couldn’t afford the name brand, and I really didn’t want a smaller box for about the same price. A silent, "Please let there be one somewhere," and what do you think I saw?! On my tiptoes I could see one box on the very top shelf waaaaay in the back, laying on its side almost out of sight. "Thank you Jesus!" and a happy dance. (Hey, it’s Walmart, you can’t get embarrassed there.)
     I make my way through my usual route, picking up my usual items. No surprises there. Then I get to the chip aisle. It was practically wiped out since it was the opening weekend of SEC football (Roll Tide). I had to look closely and make my decision carefully. I finally chose two bags, but for a slightly higher price than I had anticipated (8¢ per bag more). I was wondering how that would affect the rest of my shopping since I was on such a tight limit. What if all the other aisles were the same way?!
     But I needn’t have worried. I would meet God again around the corner. I chuckled to myself. The price for the sugar I needed had actually dropped 10¢! I laughed out loud when the cooking oil, which normally costs well over $3.00, had dropped to $2.98! By the time I made it to cross the aisle to the Lunchables, I was practically in tears. They were still on sale!! Three weeks in a row - it was a miracle!!
     There are other instances as I finished my shopping. A few cents here and there. I gave a "woohoo" every time, and by the time I was at the produce - I honestly have no idea how much the potatoes cost me. My grand total - $66.02. Not counting the two pennies, I was $4 under my goal ($70 for groceries, $30 for gas), and I had gotten everything on my list.
     I guess God needed gas too, because He showed up at the pumps at the same time as me. I was considering only putting in the $30 and keeping the extra $4, just in case I needed something next week. Being the gentleman He is, He politely said, "No. You agreed to put whatever was left in gas. I gave you a list of everything you will need, and you’ve got those things. Trust me." I’m sure the clerk never had anybody pay for $34 in gas on pump #3, but today is special.
     I have a peace as I drive home and put away my groceries. I don’t know if anybody else got sugar for $2.98 or Lunchables for $1. I’m not even going to look at my receipt to see if the cashier made a mistake. I have my own private stockboy with His own special price gun. And I can trust that He will always give me the right price.

God's Facebook Page

     "What’s on your mind?" That’s what appears at the top of the screen when I open my facebook page. Sometimes that’s a very good question. We all want our update status to sound clever or funny or insightful. The one that has the most comments and likes, or maybe even the occasional share. To be what everybody’s talking about. "Hey, did you read so-n-so’s facebook? Was that not just amazing?" or, "Did you see what son-n-so is doing today? That sounds like fun." or even, "Can you believe what so-n-so’s kid said to her?!" The prayer requests, the birthday wishes, the photo captions. It can all be good if used properly.
     As parents, most of our posts probably revolve around our children. Something funny they’ve said or some goal they’ve achieved. And we try not to embarrass them because we know when we "tag" them their friends will see it too. But what about when the roles are reversed, and the parent becomes the subject of the teen’s update status? Not usually a good thing. As was the case with my son last night.
     We all have bad habits or get ourselves into situations sometimes that could be very embarrassing if they were made public. Without going into any detail, I’ll simply say that my son came into the living room and said, "What if I took a picture of this and put it on facebook, just to see what comments we’d get." My eyes flew wide and I calmly told him no. When he proceeded to take his phone out of his pocket, my brow deepened and my reply was more of a threatening growled "no." Now don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t anything major, but it wasn’t something I wanted posted for the world to see either. He just laughed and said, "That would be embarrassing wouldn’t it?!" Ya think!
     He put his phone back in his pocket and walked away laughing. But it left me thinking, what if God had a facebook?! As our father, would His posts be mostly about us, His children? Would He have anything good to tell? How do you think He would fill in the blanks:

• "Movie night! We’re watching ________."
• "Riding down the road with my daughter, singing _________ at the top of our lungs!"
• "Quiet evening at home with my son watching ______ on tv."
• "Sunday morning church with my family. This afternoon I think we will _______."
• "Tucking my babies into bed tonight. Read them _______ before they fell asleep."
• "My daughter just told me the best story - ________."

     I’m ashamed to say God may not have much to post about me, and some of what He did could be as embarrassing as that picture my son would have taken. I thought about all the other things I do that I wouldn’t want made public. Things that only the closest of my closest friends know. The tv show I love to watch, even though there are a few scenarios I shouldn’t allow myself to see. The music I enjoy listening to that sometimes doesn’t have the best message. The book I’ll read at bedtime instead of doing my bible study.
     After I calmed down, I realized my son’s phone doesn’t have the capability to post pictures directly to facebook, so I probably could have called his bluff and gotten away with it. But I wouldn’t want to take that chance. Some things are private for a reason.  And the friend that matters most has more than just a facebook view of my life.  Yikes!

Growing Pains

     It’s that time of year again. Back to school. And with that comes new school clothes. That’s usually the time when I can really tell how much my kids have grown over the past year, by how short their jeans are, at least the ones that weren't cut off and made into shorts for the summer. Jeans and shoes can get pretty expensive! Thankfully Emily is buying her own clothes now, and Josh has at least leveled off on his height, hopefully, for a while.
     This year, though, it seems like everybody is needing something new. Although Josh doesn’t seem to have gotten any taller, his waste size is smaller. His jeans from last year are way too big, plus he’s worked in them all summer. Jeans, shoes and socks for him. Dylan has hit the age when a lot of boys take a big growing spell. His jeans from last year...well let’s just say we haven’t had quite that much rain; and he has finally put on a little weight in his upper body, so his shirts are looking too small. His shoes still fit, but they are wore slap out. Looks like a little bit of everything for him. And Alan - do I dare go there? (I’ll tread lightly.) Since he quit smoking a few months ago (applause), he has put on a few pounds. While he usually gets all new clothes for Christmas, I believe he may need some before then when the first cold weather hits. As for me, the scales have been kind, nothing gained, but nothing lost either. My clothes, however, tell a different story. While the whole may weigh the same, the pieces have shifted slightly, but not enough that would warrant spending a lot of money to replace perfectly good clothes. (But we’ll see.)
     The Lord showed me something this week about how I could relate all this to our spiritual lives. We all live in the same house, and we basically have the same needs, but all for different reasons. Let me see if I can explain.
     Josh is needing a smaller waste size. In order to lose weight, you have to burn more calories than you take in. In the spiritual world, that could be accomplished one of two ways. One, you give more than you take. Two, you just don’t "eat" enough to begin with. According to my grocery bill, nobody in our family is going hungry, so I attribute Josh’s change to the fact that he is maturing into a fine young man, willing to work at every opportunity and willing to help anybody he can. While his outside may not appear to be as much, the inside is filling in and growing stronger.
     Dylan has started growing just all over (physically and spiritually). I remember when Josh was about his age, the clothes we bought when school started were too small by Christmastime, and he needed all new clothes again. I have a feeling that will be the case with Dylan this year. He was saved at Bible Camp a few weeks ago (again, applause) and now seems more willing to learn, and more able to understand, when valuable lessons can be taught. He is taking a lot in, as he should at this age. He gives what he can, but it will take a little more growing before he is able to give it all back.
     Again treading lightly, I approach the subject of my husband. Weight gain is a sure sign of taking in more than you use. I’m sure with all that’s gone on over the last few years, his soul has been changed. He has taken a lot in, and it’s starting to show. I have faith and know that we will eventually see the results of that inward transformation.
     Now we come to the dreaded personal observations. I am sad to say that my attempts to lose weight and exercise have not accomplished what I had hoped. However there have been some results. I may not have dropped any sizes, but the size I wear now fits differently. I guess that would mean I have given out as much as I’ve taken in, equally. And I feel like I’ve taken in a lot! I have heard the Word preached in ways I’ve never heard, seen the Spirit move in ways I’ve never seen, and felt things I’ve never felt. I have more of a desire to not only listen to inspirational teachings, but to share them. When I have a revelation that helps me, I feel like I should pass it on to the next person so maybe it can help them too. But, while all that is fine in itself, at some point I would like to be able to share some of my own personal experiences more, and hopefully start the inspiration chain.
     Over the past 22 years, my husband and I have changed quite a bit.  We have both put on a few pounds, and we are seeing more gray hairs every day. We are the parents now of three individuals. We have marveled at their growth and accomplishments. We have nursed them through scrapes, sprains, broken bones and broken hearts. Life is constantly changing, and we are always evolving. My prayer is that we lean on God, listen to what He has to say, go where He leads, and learn through our growing pains. 

HELP!

     How do they do it? Those women with the clean houses and orderly kids (or vice versa), work a job, make it to all family events, visit with friends, have breakfast with God, lunch with the girls and dinner out with the hubby. I don’t understand. They have the same 24 hours a day I do, and I have almost none of that.
     The inspirational "help" books I’ve read say to get up earlier and spend time with God first. My spiritual side knows that if I do this, God will bless me and make it all work out. My flesh tells me if I get up any earlier I might as well not go to bed. And if I do try it, I will be so sleepy I will either doze off and end up being late, or I won’t be awake enough for it to do any good. The typical battle of flesh v. spirit.
     Other so-called "help" books say to stay up and do it after putting the kids to bed. That would be great if my kids went to bed at 7:30! I get home from work 5:30 to 6:00, have supper done around 6:45, eat, clean up the kitchen, help with homework (during school months), wash/dry/fold/put up laundry, straighten up the main areas of the house, run to the store if we need milk before morning, and so on. My goal is to have the kids in the bed at 9:30, who knows what time they actually go to sleep. And, for you adult readers, I’m married (‘nuff said?). I’m always up way past the kids going to bed, which makes getting up earlier that much harder.
     Just getting up, getting ready and making it out the door on time is a great accomplishment. The (first) alarm goes off at 5:00, the second at 5:30. On a good day, I get up then. If not, I’m at least up by 6. And it takes me an hour and a half to get ready - shower, coffee, makeup, hair, in that order. During school, throw in getting kids up and fed and out the door on time for school.  Usually I leave home at 7:30, or 7:45 at the latest, to be at work at 8:00. Why on earth does it take so long? I’ve wondered that myself. I’ve tried to cut corners, find quicker ways of doing things, even skipping a step. All it does is leave me fidgety because I’m out of my routine. It ends up taking me longer to do less, plus leaves me feeling "undone" for the rest of the day. I’ve found a process that works, and I’m sticking to it. No apologies.
     Setting aside a special day to take care of the big jobs, like cleaning, sounds like a good plan. I took a Saturday morning recently and did a quick (but good) dust, vacuum, sweep, clean bathrooms, get down cobwebs. Things looked good and I felt accomplished. That night - I see a cobweb hanging from the tv to the wall. Are you kidding me?!!! Why do I bother?!!! I know that was not there when I cleaned earlier because I got every possible and impossible place they could be. I got rid of that one and looked for any more I may have missed (or that had sprung up since that morning). I found several. So much for a leisurely Saturday night.
     On those rare occasions when time seems to be on my side and I try to squeeze in some family time or a game night or just do some visiting, that means something usually doesn’t get done. Skipping a night of laundry to do something fun does not work. It just means that in the morning somebody will "have nothing to wear," and I’ll have twice as much to do tomorrow night. Delegate? Yeah right! Reward for helping? No money to pay with. Pitch a fit and make them help? They do the worst job possible just for spite, which leads to....well let’s not incriminate ourselves.
     It’s a vicious cycle, and it’s taking its toll. Right now I don’t care if I get off the couch when I get home. I don’t want to; I don’t feel like it; get it yourself. We went to the beach for five days a couple weeks ago. I made it to the sand maybe four times, and actually got in the water all of twice. I did get to spend a lot of time with my family; however, it was not the physically and spiritually refreshing, regrouping vacation I was hoping for. I did a lot of sitting around, but not really resting. I actually wanted to be doing something. It just took too much effort.
     Unfortunately, I feel like I do better when I have a full plate. It means I have to get out of bed every morning and make myself presentable for the world. When I try to prioritize and let go of things that are not essential to my spiritual and/or physical well-being - what do I let go of? I know the world won’t fall apart if I don’t do everything myself, but I don’t want to take any chances.
     Let me clarify that this is not a pity party. This is not a case of simply feeling sorry for myself. God is very real to me right now. I have done my very best to put him first in everything I do. He has answered a lot prayers for me in the past week alone. I know I am blessed beyond measure, and I have things a lot better than a lot of people. There are just some things in my life that I can’t seem to get organized, or under control, or let loose, or kept the same, or changed, or whatever. Maybe I need help. Maybe this is normal. I don’t know. Maybe I just needed to ramble to try to sort this out and maybe get some new insight.
     I feel like I need the equivalent of Super Nanny for time management. Somebody to come go through my day with me, see everything I do, then critique and tell me what I’m doing wrong and what needs to change. ‘Cause small changes don’t seem to be working for me. They are too close to not changing at all. I think I need to make major changes. Life-changing changes. I need help, but don’t know where to turn. Do I need a maid, a doctor, a child behavioral specialist, a psychiatrist? It all sounds so scary!   I'm hoping for some advice from all you ladies (and gentlemen) who have this all figured out! 
     Thank you in advance.

Surf's Up, Dude!

     When we told Dylan we were going to the beach for vacation this year, all he wanted to do was buy a board and catch some waves.  I tried to explain to him that you don’t get real surfing-type waves at Gulf Shores, but he was determined to ride them.  He finally conceded to skimming over the shallow water on a boogie board.  Now that was his mission.     
     I know I have been to the beach several times in my life, but I really only remember the last trip, summer of 2009, and I was ready to go again.  Floating on the waves during that trip was so relaxing and spiritual.  I felt a connection with God there like I had not felt anywhere else.  Thoughts about being out so far your feet don’t touch the bottom and you have to depend on your float to hold you up and carry you back to the shore.  When my feet couldn’t touch, I did not have control of where I went.  I just had to ride the waves to wherever they took me.  That was the lesson I needed then.
     So this trip I was looking for another spiritual awakening.  Surely there’s another lesson on those waves, maybe even a good blog post (since I haven’t written anything in a while).  Teaching the boys how to swim out and ride the waves back in.  To not panic and just enjoy the ride.  And when you land on the shore, just walk back to our spot on the beach.  No big deal.  Or maybe watching them learn to ride those boogie boards.  I have no expertise in that area (surprise, surprise), and they could watch those who seem to know what they’re doing and get some pointers from them.  Teaching them to respect other people’s property.  Very few places you can actually just leave all your stuff laying in a pile under a tent for days at a time and nobody bother it.  And even if they do borrow the little plastic shovel and bucket, they bring it back.   Buy if they didn’t, there’s no hard feelings anywhere.  Can’t even get that kind of peace in my own  yard at home.
     So I was looking for inspiration in everybody else’s circumstances, but I never thought I would get another lesson while doing the exact same thing as before, riding the waves.   I was determined to paddle myself out into the deeper water, where my feet don’t touch the ground, and just lean back and relax.  I pointed my float in the direction I wanted to go, paddled my arms, kicked my feet.  Nothing.  Still in the same spot.  Hmm.  That’s odd.  I tried again.  Same thing.  Now this is getting embarrassing, and I’m getting a little tired.  “Try one more time,” my mind told me.  This time it seemed like the water was helping me.  It felt like something under the water was pulling me out further and further.  “Alright!” I thought.  “Maybe I’ll finally get somewhere and I can enjoy myself out here like last time.”  But a little ways out, I realized what was happening.  Whatever was under the water pulling me out, was making the deep water deeper.  It was feeding the swell that would become the next big wave.  All of a sudden, I was lifted and moved.  I thought I had landed back where I started, but I was actually closer to the shore than when I started.
      So what lesson did I learn?  Be careful of those currents under the surface you can’t see.  They may appear to be helping you get where you want to go, but in reality they are only helping to grow something far bigger than you.  Something that will send you crashing back to the shore.  There to find comfort in your beach chair, shelter under a tent, and safety in the arms of your beach towel – I mean God.

To Move or Not To Move?

     If you come to my church you will find me sitting on the right-hand side on the second pew. I don’t say that in a way to sound like I’m any better than anybody else. It’s simply a fact. I sit there because I can see and hear the preacher better. I have tried sitting further back, and even on the stage up front. But I find myself paying more attention to the people in the congregation than anything else. Who’s talking to who, who’s getting on to their kids, who’s coming in late, who’s going to the bathroom. Too many distractions. So, I sit on the second pew.
     A few Sundays ago, the preacher giving the morning devotion stood and asked everybody to move toward the front. If you were sitting in the back pews, move to the pews up front. Just as at a sporting event, the spectators are more enthusiastic when they sit crowded in groups instead of spread throughout the stadium. But surely he wasn’t talking to me. After all, I sit on the second pew. Several people did move closer, probably as much out of their comfort zones as I would have been had I sat anywhere else. I, however, did not feel the need to move. I was already pretty close to the front. The second pew, you know. So I moved my stuff and made room for my new pew-mates, and tried to make them as welcome as I possibly could.
     We had a wonderful service that morning! It was nice to worship the Lord surrounded by those I don’t usually have the pleasure of sitting with. The Spirit was flowing, and I was thoroughly enjoying everything that was said and/or sung. Everything, that is, until the Lord interrupted my service and opened my eyes to the fact that I could be closer. I took that to mean physically. I tried to argue, "Lord I’m on the second pew! Can’t get much closer than that!"
     The Lord’s response put a halt to my arguing. "Exactly! Did you hear what you just said?!" (He was using my own words against me.) "I’m on the second pew."  There was a pew in front of me. I could have gotten closer. Not just physically, but spiritually. Truth be told, there were three pews on the stage I could have moved forward to. (I was beginning to see the error of my logic.) Then He showed me the altar. No matter how close I thought I was, I could always go to the altar and get closer. While I can be in His presence anywhere, whether it be on my second pew, further back in the next to the last pew, or even up on stage, at the altar I can actually get in His arms. That’s how close I want to be.

Ready and Willing?

     My "Message From God" on facebook this morning was this, "On this day of your life, we believe God wants you to know that humans learn only by trial and error, and that includes you. You’ve got to live life, not think about it. Step into the midst of things, try and fail and learn and stand up again. The question is not whether you will or will not make mistakes - you will. The question is do you want to learn and grow, or do you want to shrink back and be stuck? Take that step you’ve been avoiding. You can succeed, or you can get feedback that it didn’t work, but in either case you are sure to feel alive."     
     That reminded me of a devotion I heard the other day that has really had me thinking. I’m not sure what the speaker was trying to relay to the congregation, but I know what I received out of it. How often do I sit and wait for God to give me something to do before I go to work for Him? The Bible tells me I am to "prepare [my] heart" and "be ready always." That was me, ready and willing should the time come. I find myself waiting on some big sign or some big thing He all but forces me to do before I am willing to do anything.
     Take this blog for instance. I really felt like God had something for me to say. He always seemed to be giving me these messages that I felt like I just had to write down, whether that writing was seen by anybody or not. My computer was filled with little "devotionettes." (That computer has since crashed and those are no longer with us.) The problem was that those messages usually came while I was in the shower or putting on my makeup or driving down the road. Not the easiest places to simply take out pen and paper and start writing. But instead of doing that very thing, just stop what I was doing and start writing, I became aggravated. "Lord why can’t you give me these things when I’m in a position to take it down?" "Not now Lord, let me get to the computer." "Lord you know I can’t write that fast, my hand will cramp up, and my home computer is broken. Wait till tomorrow when I’m back at work so I can type it."
     But do you know what happened? Every time I was in front of the computer and had a few minutes to spare, I was either working, or checking my personal email, or seeing how my friends on facebook are doing. I had no notion of listening for anything God might be saying to me. I figured if He had something He wanted me to put in writing, He’d give it to me. Surely I would have a feeling so profound it would be a "do or die" situation. It didn’t occur to me that maybe He was waiting for me to make myself available. Maybe I need to make the first step and show Him that I am willing to be used, and have the faith that He would provide the opportunity and the means for me to carry out what He has for me to do.
     So this morning, I decided to try. One of two things will happen. Either God will come on the scene and this attempt will be successful, or I will type this and it be meant for nobody but me. A lesson in faith. Now, in between answering the phone and checking my email (which I have to do quite frequently as part of my work), while I drink my coffee and prioritize my day, I am sitting at my computer, fingers poised and ready to type. I am making myself available and open to receive what God has to say to me. I’m thinking that should be my top priority today. After all, His messages usually come quickly and I am able to create a writing in only a matter of minutes. Hopefully when I pass it on to you it will be in a way you can understand. (Sometimes He still talks faster than I can type.)

"Be Still and Know That I Am God"

(Completely random thoughts - no editing whatsoever.  I apologize if it seems scrambled.)

     "Be still and know that I am God." That’s the phrase that went through my mind this morning when I woke up to my third day of the room spinning. Vertigo. That’s what the doctor had said. I believe it was God’s way of making me be still because I didn’t listen the first time he told me. I thought I was doing pretty good at keeping my stress level down. My mind was beginning to clear. I wasn’t letting things pile up. I seemed to be getting things done without having to rush. I even spent some time just sitting on the front porch, drinking my coffee, then taking the kids to the pool for a while. I thought that’s what He wanted. For me to settle my brain and clear my thinking. Surely He didn’t mean for me to literally be still. There are things to be done. I thought He was clearing my thoughts so I could accomplish them better.
     "Be still and know that I am God." I wasn’t sure if that was actual scripture from the Bible or just something I’ve heard said so many times it seems like gospel. So I looked it up. Sure enough, right there in Psalm 46:10, "Be still and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth." And whaddaya know! The command to be "still" is in the scripture several other places! Like Exodus 14:13, "And Moses said unto the people, Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will shew to you to day..." And Numbers 9:8, "And Moses said unto them, Stand still, and I will hear what the LORD will command concerning you." Ruth 3:18 says, "Then said she, Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter will fall..." And of course there’s Job 37:14, "Hearken unto this, O Job: stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God." There are even scriptures that tell of the earth, the sun and the moon standing still. And Matthew and Mark tell us that "Jesus stood still." All these people had to be still to hear, know, consider and see what God had for them to do. Why should I be any different?
     So then I decided I would look up the word "still" and get a more clear definition. Dictionary.com says this, "(1) remaining in place or at rest; motionless... (2) free from sound or noise... (4) free from turbulence or commotion; peaceful; tranquil; calm... (5) without waves or perceptible current."  Hmm...motionless... without motion. With vertigo, that’s not a problem. If I move, I go one way and the room goes another. Free from sound or noise...turbulence or commotion. This one is a little harder. There are certain things around me that I have no control over - the phone ringing, people talking. Without waves or perceptible current. Have you ever noticed still water? Where there are absolutely no waves visible? Very often it shows a reflection of the sky and nearby surroundings. It can be quite beautiful.
     So...let’s review. When God told me to "be still," he wasn’t just talking about my mind, my inner thoughts. Could it be he meant for me to physically not move. How is that even possible?! I don’t understand!! As I lay in bed with the furniture, walls and ceiling swirling around me, I tried to focus on one central object. Maybe if I can just get my eyes fixed on a certain spot, everything else will fall back into place. But I couldn’t do it. My eyes would not fix on that one spot. They kept floating around, rolling and swirling with everything else. That made me feel worse, so I just closed them. All I could do was pray, "Lord make this go away."
     "Be still and know that I am God." When everything seems to be careening out of control, I am to be completely still, no moving, no thinking, no trying to focus on what I think I need to be focusing on. Just close my eyes and let God have full control. That’s the only way my world will stop spinning.

Practice Test and Day of Redemption

     When I think that I started writing as a way to express my thoughts on the things God reveals to me through the small happenings in my daily life, it kinda scared me when I noticed I hadn’t written anything in over two weeks. Has it really been that long since God spoke to me?! Of course not. It’s just that I've been soooo busy!  Sometimes my mind gets soooo overwhelmed that God finds other ways to get my attention.
     It’s the end of the school year and my son’s math teacher had given the class a practice test to determine what they needed to focus on before the real test. He had missed quite a few, and we were working them out to make sure he understood how to get the right answers. After we had done several problems, he says, "I sure am glad this was just the practice test and not the real one." I asked him why. He said, "Because I wouldn’t have done so good." After the week I’d had, that really hit home.
     My goal had been to finish my "spring cleaning" by the first of May because that starts about three months of non-stop go-go-go for me. There are school band concerts, awards days, graduations, field days, and other end-of-the-year activities. There are birthdays, birthday parties, family cookouts, family reunions. There’s Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and decorations at four different cemeteries. We have Vacation Bible School, the church trip to Gatlinburg, and the much needed week at the beach to plan for. This year Dylan is going to two bible camps and a summer camp. Plus this year we have added a bridal shower and a wedding, and all the pregnant women I know are having their babies this summer. Somewhere in there I also have a full-time job, laundry to wash, meals to cook, shopping to do, and errands to run. I would like to say I handled all this by keeping my cool and displaying much grace. Uh, wrong!
     When my brain has a task to complete, it goes into overdrive and doesn’t stop until it either burns out, gives up or reaches a solution. I spent more than a few restless nights. Then God reminded me of my remedy for these times. I made a lunch date with a pen and paper and got all my ideas written down.  The list was made and I now had a plan to proceed. I realized that everything on my calendar was put there by none other than yours truly. A lot of those "appointments" were there because that’s what I felt like I needed to do or was just what I’d always done. I was really feeling the affects of self-induced stress. So I got online - vacation reservations confirmed - camp enrollment forms printed - decoration flowers bought. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
     I couldn't believe what happened next!  Our awesome God gave me not one, but two opportunities- in the same day mind you - to redeem myself !
     It was a typical day at our office, appointments booked every thirty minutes, clients coming in with information for their file, and the occasional person wandering in off the street looking for some quick legal advice. I don’t know who the woman was or where she came from, but she struck a chord with all who were in the office right then. She first told her story to my co-worker, who in turn asked me to see if I could help her. She said her father had passed away that morning in New York, and she was doing odd jobs around town trying to raise the money to pay for her bus ticket to get there. She was $17.00 short. It was after 4:00 in the afternoon, and her bus was scheduled to leave at 5:15. She was about six months pregnant and so far that day she had washed dishes, done some yard/housework, and even changed a flat tire on someone’s vehicle. With her greasy hands, she laid a baggie on my counter with some bead bracelets and some silver charms she was trying to sell. She promised that if I helped her she would be back on Friday to repay me.
     Now we hear a lot of "sob stories" in our line of work, and have become somewhat able to determine the legitimates from the drama queens. Unfortunately, we have also become immune to a lot of it.  But this woman telling her story had me practically in tears by the time she finished. I bent down and got what cash I could find in my purse - a whole $7.00. I handed it to her, apologized for not having more, and told her she most definitely did not have to pay me back. A lady waiting in our lobby had overheard and seen the entire conversation, and also pulled out some cash and gave it the woman - $11.00 I think - and told her the same thing. The look on the woman’s face was pure appreciation - and shock that we hadn’t made her sweep the floor or clean the windows in return for the money.
     I guess it’s possible this woman could have simply been out begging for money to go do who-knows-what with, but I don’t think so. She didn’t look like a "junkie," she didn’t sound like she was intoxicated or influenced in any way. And I don’t think I would have been moved to such a degree if she had not been telling the truth. At any rate, I was only out $7.00 and, as the saying goes, if she can live with it, I can live without it. If I don’t have enough Christian love in me to give somebody a measly $7.00 when they appear to have a sincere need, then I don’t deserve to call myself a Christian.
     Later that evening, I had to make a quick run to the store for a few things. I was waiting in line at the checkout while the cashier finished with the customer ahead of me, when I overhead my cashier ask the cashier at the next register if she had anything for heartburn. I knew I had one heartburn pill in my purse and automatically got it ready to hand her when it was my turn to pay. She began ringing up my things, and I reached over and handed her the packet with the medicine. She gave a sigh of relief and thanked me profusely. I explained that I could sympathize with her pain and was happy to help.  In the back of my mind I was hoping we wouldn't get in trouble by the all-seeing eyes who may have misunderstood what was going on.  But I was able to leave the store without incident.
     So, like my son, I didn’t do so hot on the practice test. I apologize to all my loyal followers (ha!ha!) for not writing before now. You can rest assured, God has not stopped talking. He just has to get a little creative to get through all the chaos that is my mind. Sometimes he even has to physically stand in front of me to get me to pay attention. I’m so glad God gives us second chances...and third...and fourth...and one hundredth!

It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To

     Where were you Saturday?! I had a party and nobody came! Ok, truth be told, it was a pity party, and you would not have enjoyed it. It was no fun. Three weeks of big bills and no "extra" money can make a girl blue. That was me. No full tank of gas to waste this week, just what I need. No big trip to Wal-mart for a full grocery buying experience, just a quick run to the Dollar Store and Foodland for the essentials. I had to keep reminding myself, "I’m Blessed!" But didn’t God know and understand that we NEED all that other stuff?!
     Blessed? You bet! Spoiled? Maybe a little. The kids don’t have to have three boxes of cereal and waffles and pancakes to choose from for breakfast. We don’t have to have a different meal for supper every night. (We’ll be having beans, cornbread and fried potatoes every night this week. If you want to stop by about 6:30, you’re welcome to join us - just let me know ahead of time so I make sure to have plenty.) The slightest thing was starting to get to me. I was accomplishing nothing on my to-do list. My mind wouldn’t rest for trying to figure out how to make it all work. I tried to pop some popcorn, it burned.  Went to pour myself a glass of tea, somebody had drank it all.  I was sure I’d feel better if I could just make it to read some scriptures or a devotional book. But first I had to hand wash all those dishes. Finally, I just cried into the dishwater. That’s when God started talking to me - or, rather, when I started listening.
     I went to my youngest son and apologized for snapping at him earlier, especially in front of his friends. I finished cleaning up the kitchen, tidied up the living room, folded some laundry and put more to washing. I made a loaf of cinnamon bread (anything to get rid of that burned popcorn smell!)  I took a look at my checkbook and made a mental note that if I played it just right, we’d make it (not that we wouldn’t have anyway, but it made me feel better to see it in writing).
     Then I retreated to my bathroom, ran some water, sat on the edge of the tub and put my feet in, and began reading my Sunday School lesson for the week. John 6:27 - "Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give unto you..." Verse 35 - "And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." Of course there were other verses in the lesson, and the writer’s commentary really hit home. I had taken my focus off the bread that really mattered, the bread that God provides me with daily. I was more worried about the literal bread that I didn’t have.
     As I finished my home pedicure (which I actually wasn’t doing out of necessity, but because that’s my "girl time"), I continued to pray and think, and God continued to listen and respond. I prayed that all the discontentment, all the disappointment I felt toward myself and the things I had failed to do today, would be forgiven and taken from me. After all, tomorrow is Sunday. The Lord’s day. He deserves none of my bitterness. Only my praise.  That's all I wanted to carry with me.
     So if I ever invite you to one of my pity parties, feel free to not show up. Only one guest is truly needed.  He is my best friend and He understands me like nobody else does.  It's my party, and if I want to cry, He's ok with that.

The Old Violin

     A man shared this story with us at church last night.  I had never heard it before and it really touched me.  I thought I would share it with you, in case you haven't heard it either.  I hope you can open this video and watch.  If not, you could probably find another version the same way I found this one - just google J.D. Sumner's story of the violin, "Touch of the Master's Hand."  I hope you enjoy it.

     Like the preacher said last night, sometimes we all get scratched up and dusty.  But a touch by the master can clean us up and make our value 1,000 times our original asking price.  Beautiful story.  Thank you Jesus!

Show & Tell

     I have learned a very humbling lesson during my "spring cleaning" the past few weeks. I have learned my limitations. I have learned that I am capable of doing more than I thought I could. My patience has been tried. My stick-with-it-ness has been tested. I am glad to say that I have made great progress in both my physical cleaning and my spiritual cleaning. But it hasn’t been easy.
     It’s not easy to clean a room with three men/boys trapsing through continuously. It’s not easy to keep your thoughts on God when the tv is blaring in the other room. And it’s extremely frustrating when you leave the windows up to let in the breeze and your husband decides that’s the perfect time to stir up the dust outside (by that I mean mow the yard). I guess things will need to be dusted again sooner than I had hoped. I could feel the rope slipping through my hands, no knot in sight, and I prayed I wouldn’t have to "break bad on some people" (as my son would say).
     So, imagine my surprise when I got home from work yesterday and found the shop-vac sitting beside the front door. My initial thought was, "Oh no, what did they break now?" But when I turned to close the door, I also noticed the clean windows. I glanced over to the living room window, and it too was sparkly. I looked at my husband (trying to look like he was really into the tv and totally ignoring my reaction) and said, "Good job!" His smile told me just how proud he was of himself. But then reality check - he said, "Well that wasn’t the response I was expecting." I asked him what response he was looking for exactly. "Well I don’t know, but it wasn’t good." I know I complain a lot, but really?!
     He went on to explain how he and my son had cleaned the windows and vacuumed all the stuff out of the window sills in the living room. (I know that sounds gross, but it should give you an idea of just how dirty my house had gotten.) Then my old self started talking, "Why did you stop? It’s not even 6:00 and there are plenty of other windows you could have done. You’ve got three hours till bedtime." Whoa, girl! Where’s your mercy? "But it took me an hour and a half to do this much." His smile was gone.  I had just let the air out of his bubble, and I felt horrible. "I’m sorry. It looks good. Thank you." He promptly carried my son’s dirty dishes from that morning to the sink, threw away his own trash and put his empty Dr. Pepper cans in the bin out back.  Smiling again.
     Later, as I was walking the track with my sister-in-law, it occurred to me that this whole cleaning thing - my goal for my house to be the way I want it - it’s not about me. Ok, it’s not just about me. I realized that what I was doing was starting to affect those around me, and maybe this time not for the worse.  My boys are starting to pick up after themselves more.  They help more readily than before.  Things are more settled and routine.  Peaceful if you will.
     I have learned a lot, but God still has more to teach me.  I guess it’s time I start showing instead of just telling.  After all, I'm not in kindergarten anymore.

Happy Mother's Day!

TO ALL MOTHERS (PHYSICAL AND SPIRITUAL):
     I know Mother's Day is still a few weeks away, but "now" is always a great time to not only honor our mothers, but to celebrate the fact that we are mothers. The day you became a mother is a special day for you, in whatever way it happened or how many times over. It’s the first time you met your child. How many other people have you met in your life that you can remember the exact day and time you first saw them? Knew how tall they were and how much they weighed, down to the ounce? Counted their fingers and toes, knew the circumference of their head? I bet there aren’t too many.
     Though being a mother doesn’t bring a lot of verbal "thank you’s," it is a very important profession. One that can provide you with the greatest form of flattery - imitation. Don’t get me wrong. The cards, the gifts, the paper roses, the hugs, are all great and I treasure them. But for me, I get the biggest thrill when one of my children takes something that I do, copies it, and makes it their own. Like when my 11-year-old wants to add one more thing to our already full weekend and says to me, "OK, I’ve got a plan." (He’s so grown up.) Or when we’re leaving Wal-mart and I ask my daughter where she parked and she says, "Straight out the door close to the buggy thing." (That’s my girl!  No wandering around the parking lot!) Granted my oldest son doesn’t find very many things I do to be imitation-worthy right now, that’s alright. Not everything an almost-40-year-old woman does should be considered cool by an almost-17-year-old boy. It’s just a phase. We had our moments when he was younger, and we will have them again. He did tell me, since I was making him go to school every day, that during his boring class he is making something beautiful for me he thinks I will love. I’m so excited!
     I read somewhere once that my job as a parent is not to raise a rule-following child, but a God-following adult.  I am both blessed and scared to know that my children learn by example. They are not perfect, and the Good Lord knows I am not a perfect mama.  My two oldest asked Jesus to be their Savior at a young age, and I believe He will come to my youngest when the time is right.  That should make my ultimate goal as a mother to be having a walk with the Lord that my children can see and will want for themselves. I want to always search His Word and seek His guidance in everything I do. I want to give Him praise and thanks out loud, and to tell others what He has done for me. I want them to see and hear me pray. My kids have all told me when they prayed about something at school. A test, trouble with friends, someone who is sick or has been hurt. They have prayed that the "bad guys" be kept out of their room so they can not be scared  and have a good night's sleep.  I guess I could learn from them in that regard.
     So for all you women, whether you be a mom, a grandmother, an aunt, a close friend, or the little old lady at church - Happy Mother’s Day! Or should I say, Happy "Thank you for being a Christian example that my children can follow" Day!

I Can't Believe It's Not Butter

     I’m not sure when my obsession over the butter started. My guess is it was lurking when I went to the grocery store Friday, and just came to full light Sunday evening.
     It was one of those weeks when bills overtook my paycheck, so there wasn’t as much left as usual for groceries. It wasn’t a major thing, it happens from time to time, so I’m used to it. And it’s not like we had no food in the house. We had a little of this and a little of that, enough I could make do with till next payday. I planned the supper menus carefully...finish the chicken one night, biscuit and gravy another night; how many nights we could have mashed potatoes and which nights I would have to fry them. Just enough eggs, butter, cornmeal. You’ve probably been there.
     Then Sunday night my wonderful husband decided to fix everybody a flitter for supper. That would have been great, but his gesture was lost on me because all I could focus on was the fact that he used almost all the butter! The butter that was supposed to last me all week! I griped and growled, and didn’t get my flitter. I ate a nice bowl of Rice Krispies when I got home from church. No butter needed thank goodness.
     Then Monday night, he decides he wants spaghetti for supper (which we had to eat with no meat because that wasn’t on my menu so I hadn’t bought any ground beef). When I asked him if he wanted cheese toast with that, I "politely" pointed out that I couldn’t make our usual toasted bread because...we had no butter! "But I left a little." "I had to use that little bit to make [my son’s] grilled cheese because he doesn’t like spaghetti with no meat, and he’s eating chili and grilled cheese."
     "I’m sorry your sandwich is not as buttery as you’d like, son, but Daddy used all the butter."
     "I can’t help it if you don’t want fried potatoes tonight, dear, but I can’t make mashed potatoes because I have no butter."
     "We would have more beans to go with the fried potatoes if you hadn’t used one can with your flitter." (Don’t look at me like that, you know you’ve opened a can before!)
     "Mama, you didn’t make the macaroni right. You didn’t put any butter in it." "Daddy used it all."
     As a matter of fact, those bad hair days...he used all the butter. That fender-bender I was in Monday...he used all the butter. That argument I had with a client...I’m pretty sure is somehow tied to him using all the butter. The declining economy, the unrest in the Middle East... OK, so maybe not those last ones, but you get the idea. Even I was realizing I had a problem.
     But why was I so stuck on this?! Why couldn’t I just go get more butter?! I think it was because my plans had been shot. I had things worked out and scheduled just the way I wanted them. And he didn’t even ask me about the butter. He just wanted what he wanted and used whatever he needed and didn’t seem to care that I might have plans for the butter.
     Aww, man...spiritual lesson! No, Lord, I don’t hear you whining when I don’t ask you about your plans. And, no, Lord, I don’t see you carrying on when you have to rework your schedule around my wants. Yes, Lord. I’ll just suck it up and go get more butter. And I’ll get more milk too, because we might run out before the end of the week.

Spring Cleaning Has Begun!

     They say the brain is the control center of the body. That everything you do is processed through your brain. Where the mind leads, the man will follow. I, however, have a different theory. I believe my central processor is in my feet. When my feet are hot, my body is hot. When my feet are cold, I’m cold. When my feet hurt, my whole body hurts. To prove my theory, I take you back to last night.
     I have decided to try to thoroughly clean my house one corner at a time. To fully appreciate my need to do this, you would have to see just how dirty my house is (and we don’t want that), so you’ll just have to use your imagination. There is dust, cobwebs, and just stuff everywhere. Clutter. Much the way my mind is cluttered lately. Too much going on and no time to sort and clean and get rid of things and put things in their proper places. So this is just as much a spiritual cleaning as a physical one.
     So I chose my corner. The one with the ceiling-high, glass shelf, curio cabinet of sorts. I took everything off the shelves, took the shelves out and cleaned them one at a time. When the cabinet was empty, I climbed through to the back of it, where I proceeded to sweep down the cobwebs holding it to the wall. It’s at this point that I feel something sharp stabbing into my feet, and I remember the vase that had been broken several months ago.  I remember cleaning up the big pieces of glass at that time, but I didn’t really take time to vacuum all the tiny shards. After all, nobody walks behind the cabinet right?
     Not, that is, until I decide to clean! What should have been a good 30-minute task took me over an hour to finish, mostly because I had to stop and pick pieces of glass out of my feet and stop the bleeding. When all was done, I was pleased with myself that I had not let that stop me, and I had a wonderful sense of accomplishment, even if I was still in some pain.  I decided not to rethink this whole cleaning thing and to continue with my plan the next night.
     This morning, God let me know that this cleaning (the spiritual and the physical) could be a painful process and may not be as quick and simple as I had hoped.  The pain in my feet and legs was a reminder of all the tiny things I let hinder me in my walk with the Lord. Things from long ago that I thought I had cleaned up. But, you know, I’m tired of looking at the dirt. It’s time to de-clutter. So tonight, instead of moving on to my next corner, I think I’ll bring in the shop-vac and finishing cleaning up the glass behind the cabinet. And I may go ahead and vacuum around the baseboards of some of those other corners. You never know who might have to walk through there.

Dream Interpreted

     Vivid dreams make me so tired! People dying, babies being born, kids not behaving, always running late, work, work, work. It’s like real life exaggerated, and I wake up more tired than when I went to bed. If there is a lesson to be learned from all this, I wish it would hurry up and make itself evident.
     In a recent dream, it seemed all my family had either died or was on their death bed. I sat in a chair with my youngest son as he told me he was scared. "What if I don’t know anybody." "What if I get scared." "What if I get bored." I was only able to tell him, in that motherly voice we all use from time to time, that I was very sure he wouldn’t get bored. Then I woke up.
     I didn’t get a chance to tell him about all the fun he would have in Heaven. I’m not sure God would allow skateboarding, but he may give the kids buffing pads to wear on their feet to glide around on the street of gold and keep it shiny. I didn’t get to tell him about all the cousins I have who never had a chance to be a kid on earth, who are living it up in Heaven and would show him all there is to do up there. I don’t think we’ll just be wandering around like happy zombies. I believe we will be praising the Lord and glorifying Him in all we do, whether it be work or play.
     I didn’t get to tell him about all the people he would see. Good people. No strangers. No people doing bad things. About Jesus, who loves all the little children. He would feel love like he’s never felt before. Plus, it’s always nice to meet somebody famous, and he would finally get to meet the man he had heard about and sang about his whole life. (I’m sure it would be better than meeting Cletus from the Dukes of Hazard in Gatlinburg.)
     I didn’t get to remind him about his grandpa’s and great-grandpa’s who would love to take him fishing and share their grandfatherly advice with him and show him how to build things. Or about his MawMaw who would sit with him and tell stories and make sure he had whatever he wanted to eat. And who knows better than God what he likes to eat?! It would be cooked to perfection with a never-ending supply! There would be an uncle who would encourage him to be just what he wanted to be and would let him climb the jasper walls naked if he wanted to. There would be several great-aunts that would let him help in their gardens. They would "just eat him up" and spoil him rotten. He would have my friend from church whose family was her life while she was here. I know she would be there for him any time he needed a Mama.
     I didn’t get to tell him there would be no falling or getting hurt, no sneezes or coughs or sniffles. I didn’t get to tell him about the perfect sunny weather, the sweet kittens and puppies, the trees just right for climbing. I didn’t get to tell him....
     Oh wait....I just realized my lesson from this dream. Excuse me while I go tell my living, healthy son about Heaven.

Into His Image

     What to wear? What to wear? What to wear? It was one of those days when I needed to look "nice," but also be comfortable, not sure if I would be indoors, outdoors, or a lot of both. Let’s see... black capris. Black always looks "nice." And how about that bright pink t-shirt with the black lettering. Pretty and comfortable. Yep, that works. My ensemble was complete! Or was it?
     One last quick glance in the mirror and I noticed it. The t-shirt was one from a Ladies Retreat I had attended a few years ago. The theme was "Into His Image." On the front was a compact filled with "Mercy" and a "Grace"-colored lipstick. In the middle was a mirror, and inside the mirror was

"Love

Kindness

Forgiveness

Patience

Peace

Joy."

I was reminded of something I heard a teacher say once. We all have different personalities and character traits. God gives us all different talents and gifts. We all have different callings on our lives. The Bible says some are teachers, some are prophets, some are preachers, and so forth; and He gives each what he/she needs to fulfill that calling. The same with sins. What is a great sin in my life, may not be in yours. What is temptation to you, may not be for me. All these things are unique to each of us.
     But, the fruit of the Spirit IS "love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." That’s singular. Does an apple tree give apples, oranges and pears? No. It gives apples. There is one fruit Christians bear, and it contains all these elements. And God gives us each the same. He is no respecter of persons, so He gives me just as much as He gives you. And God doesn’t do anything halfway. He gives us a full serving of each ingredient.  "Well God just didn’t give me patience." Yes he did. "I just don’t have it in me to forgive so&so." Yes you do. If you are a born-again Christian, God has given you everything you need to grow spiritual fruit.
     So why does one person’s fruit look different from another’s? Why do some people seem to have unending patience and peace in their life; while others appear to have no patience, but are longsuffering and forgiving? They live in different climates. Different situations require different responses. Each part of the spiritual fruit is equal, but what I use most is what you see on the outside. All the other parts are still there, just a little deeper. The more I work on them, the more they work their way out. How awesome would it be to have multicolored fruit!

Living With The Three Blind Mice

     I don’t know about you, but I do a lot of laundry at my house. At least two loads a day; three on those days when the "special loads" have to be washed. That’s why I was so blown away when my youngest comes to me last night and says, "Mama, when are you going to wash clothes?" "Excuse me?!!!" "I can’t find any clean underwear." "Seriously?!! The laundry is caught up, I just put a pile in your room yesterday. Did you look?" "Well there weren’t any laying on my bed." Needless to say, he eventually found some.
     A few minutes later I’m cleaning up the kitchen when my oldest son comes in and fixes himself a piece of cake and asks me if I want some. (I think it’s a trick question, so I say no.) I, being the good mother that I am, go behind him and make sure the cake is sealed back properly and begin wiping up the crumbs on the counter. He says, "I thought you didn’t want any." "I don’t. I’m just cleaning up the mess you made." "What mess?" I hope he’s joking since he’s got a smile on his face.
     As I make my way back and forth through the living room, I am constantly tripping over shoes in the floor. (My husband hadn’t come in yet, but we’ve had this conversation many times.) "Have you seen my shoes?" "I put them up." (Which in my house simply means I put them under the end table beside the couch.) "Why would you do that? You know I’m going to wear them again." Sigh. Are they blind?!
     Then during my quiet time before going to sleep, God reveals to me that I too was once a blind mouse. He was constantly giving me blessings and laying them at my feet. I was literally tripping over them, and yet I couldn’t find them. I was always willing to take the cake, but leaving the crumbs. I am glad to say that now I see. God uses the simple things to show me the amazing things. But first he had to...er...cut off my tail with a carving knife (sorry I couldn’t resist). I know my family will eventually be able to see, seek, and find. But until then, I will continue to wake up to more dirty clothes piled up and....a straw in the living room floor?! Did you ever see such a sight in your life?!

On A Hill Not So Far Away

     We have had some truly awesome church services lately. The kind where you can’t wait to get back to see what happens next! The kind where you pray the Lord lets you participate, and yet you’re scared to death that he’ll ask you do something. Yesterday was such a day for me.
     I knew what I had to do as soon as The Cross came out. It had been brought out before and I didn’t do anything, so I knew I had to take my turn carrying it this time. I felt a little uneasy because I saw only men carrying The Cross. What in the world will they think if I try it? I overcame that one pretty quick (I’m getting better at not caring what others think of my style of worship). My next objection was, "It looks too heavy." I’m not the strongest by any means and I didn’t want to make a complete idiot of myself. I had just about talked myself out of doing anything when my son and his friend looked at me and said "I want to carry The Cross." That was all it took.
     It’s amazing how the Lord blocks certain things from your memory. I don’t remember anything after I stood up. Was it because I was so full of the Spirit that my normal body couldn’t handle it? I’ve had that happen before with testimonies. Or is He shielding me from having to relive a very embarrassing moment? Maybe I did make a fool of myself and He knows I couldn’t handle that either. I’m praying it’s the former and not the latter!
     But, you know, I still don’t know how heavy The Cross is. I’ll never know if I could have handled it on my own. Oh, I’m sure I could have dragged it and bounced it not-so-gracefully up the aisle and back. But I didn’t have to. I had help (and they probably carried the heavier end). It’s a lot like the Lord bearing so much of my burden and keeping so many things at bay, that I’ll never fully comprehend just how truly blessed I am. I also realized my little man is a lot stronger than I thought. And he’s got good friends to help him carry his cross, or the cross of those he chooses to help.

QUIET!!

     Shhh! Listen! You hear that?! What is it? Answers will vary depending on where you are. Right now I hear the humming of the printer, the coffee pot perking, traffic outside, and the sound of my fingers on the keyboard. If you’re lucky enough to still be on the beach listening to the waves during this Spring Break, I envy you. I’ve had a strong urge to listen this morning, especially since I heard that funny noise my car was making. I reached to turn on the radio and the Lord all but smacked my hand down. "No. Listen." OK? Listen to what?
     That got me to thinking about the sounds I’ve heard the past couple days. The sound of the gravel under my tires as I pulled in the driveway with my window rolled down (which I never do). The sound of kids playing in my yard and at the park where we went walking last night. The sound of my husband and son in conversation. The dishwasher, the washing machine. The birds chirping at me through my open windows to wake up in the mornings. (Except this morning, there was the sound of a grinder/wood chipper or something out there, which turned out to be a blessing because I had overslept and that thing kept growling at me instead of politely chirping.) The sound of music playing and the fan blowing as I got ready for work.
     I rode all the way to work this morning without the radio on. I had to constantly fight the urge to push buttons. (Hello, my name is Stacie, and I’m a channel surfer and climate control adjuster.)  I didn’t hear waves crashing or birds chirping or all those wonderful sounds we dream of. I heard my tires humming on the roadway; horns blowing; lawn mowers. The sounds of springtime. The sounds of activity. The sounds of....well....life. Not all the sounds are comforting (like that grinder/wood chipper), but all are necessary. And I realize how truly blessed I am. Healthy kids who can play outside. A family who loves each other. A home with all the workings. A vehicle to drive. A job to go to.
     Sigh....speaking of jobs....guess I should answer that ringing phone. Another blessing? I think so.