13 Years a Mama

13 years a mama. To this ^^^ handsome boy.

There are a few beliefs I held 13 years ago that I can officially debunk.

1. 13 years of being a mom is not a long time. There aren't a lot of things that we spend 13 consecutive years doing. The proverbial length of your 13 years are depends on how much you enjoy what you're doing. 13 years of school, for example, was the longest 13 years for some people, and some would say the same thing of parenting (which makes me cringe). 13 years of parenting, for me, has been better than I could ever have imagined, and my imagination is pretty wild!

2. I am still.so.young. I remember looking at my friends who had teen-agers and thinking things like, "They're so much older." Now? I look at those same people and think, they're really not much older than me, and at 38 years old, I still feel young. Lots of adventures are ahead of me. Having a teen in the house doesn't change that.

3. Parenting pre-teens is a blast. Sure, there are moments, but, mostly, as your kids are becoming these great, intellectually capable, grown-up people, it is a joy-filled journey. I knew I would love parenting through the little kid stages, but this? I never saw it coming. Seriously. Don't let our culture fool you. Don't get stuck assuming it's going to stink. It doesn't have to. It pretty much rocks. Maybe it is what you make it, and I choose to make it this amazing experience. I choose the same for the next 10 years of parenting teen-agers too.

I know that some of you might be thinking that I may be naive. He's only 13. You've "been there, done that." I get it. I'm not saying pre-teens are easy, and I'm not expecting the teen years to be easy either. I'm just saying, there is a ton of joy here, and isn't that where we should be focusing our thoughts? Let's face it, Americans have a love affair with the negative, dramatic, difficult, trials of life. I choose to find camaraderie in the joy instead, and I want all of you to know that joy exists right here! So much joy!

So anyway, 13 years a mama. How awesome is that? I love that I am the mom of a teenager! It's something new! Something fun! I'm always up for an adventure.

My boy is incredible. He is one of the smartest people I know. I'm pretty sure the fact that he can create just about anything from Legos is going to lead him to one of the best careers ever. He is genuinely helpful, and he has a heart that naturally wants to take care of the people he loves. He seeks God on his own!!! I am sure I'll be blogging about him again in a few months because he is on target to complete a one year Bible reading plan because he chose to do so without prodding. In fact, it was his idea! He's also studying high school biology this year at his request, and I think I might be a little more intimidated than he is, not because of the material, but of the responsibility of teaching a 13 year old the intricacies of biology. It's going to be a blast, and I am seriously excited about it, but..yeah. Big responsibility. But to Lukas? It's just another learning opportunity.

Lukas is so many things...Joy-filled. Humorous. Creative. Smart. Musical. Loving. Kind. Seeker of knowledge. Seeker of God. He is discovering God in new ways and growing his faith. He is more than I could have imagined. 

But mostly?

He is mine. My son. My boy. The one who made me a mama, who made Eric a daddy.

We are so blessed, so filled by God because of this boy. 

So very, very grateful.

Because Everyone Else Is Doing It: Noah (and VeggieTales)

This is not a post about why you should or should not see Noah, but, since everyone else is writing about the film whether or not they have seen it, I have decided to join the crowd. 

It is rather unbelievable how many posts are out there proclaiming why we should or should not see Noah, and most were written before the movie's release. "This movie is inaccurate. It does not follow the Biblical account." "We should reject the Hollywood machine." Or something like that. Or the flip side, "This is art, not a Biblical interpretation. We should watch it with an open mind." 

There are different ways to enjoy a movie, but one way for me not to enjoy a movie is for it to have Russell Crowe in it (there are few exceptions). Because of that, I don't know that I would have chosen to see this movie to begin with, but, because of all the hype, I find that I am intrigued. I want to be informed, to have intellectual conversation about the film,and for a person to do that, they have to see the film. I think that all my fellow evangelicals, if we must use a label, have caused me to sway toward seeing it. I want to see what all the hype is about. 

Plus, there's the whole double standards thing, and that's the biggest takeaway in this post. I'm calling it what it is. Our reaction to this film reveals a double standard that I don't like, especially since social media is absolutely buzzing with it. We are plastering our ugly side all over our Facebook accounts for the world to see, and they're calling it like it is. They're noticing. I promise you that.

Let's go back a few years to when my cherubs were tiny and my son was obsessed with VeggieTales. Oh yes, I could sing along to every silly song Larry could articulate,a nd I was proud of it! How many Christians do you know who happily view VeggieTales with their children? Are you one of them?

Since the big deal in recent weeks has been Noah's lack of Biblical accuracy, let's also consider the VeggieTales, a show most of us believe is safe for our kids. The only vegetables I remember reading about in my Bible were used for food. We could start there, but I don't really care that the creators of VeggieTales are dressing up vegetables and pretending they are Bible characters. Neither do most of you, but I have been a little bugged at times by their twisting of Biblical stories as if they need to be embellished. Why do we need vegetables to cause kids to be interested in the Bible? Why aren't the stories good enough on their own? As I am finishing a chronological reading of the Old Testament, I have been reminded of stories that include everything from talking animals (serpants and donkeys!) to zombies (did those bones Ezekiel saw come to life have souls? I think not.) to sex, adultery, incest, witchcraft, talking with the dead, and more! If the Bible were literally portrayed on the big screen, the movie would be rated R, and none of us would take our children to see it; yet, we feel like we have to embellish the G-rated stories to make them more interesting? David killed a giant with a sling shot. That's pretty astounding on its own, don't you think?

But almost no one complains.

Let me interject something before I continue. My son really was enthralled with VeggieTales, and we are still fans. I once made Bob the Tomato cupcakes and Larry Boy twinkies for a birthday party. I don't believe my children were harmed by them. They are not accurate stories. They were not created to be exact accounts of Biblical truth. This is not an anti-VeggieTales post.
It's a double standards post. Stick with me.

VeggieTales are sold in your local Christian bookstore. They're sold at on-line Christian retailers. Because of that, we don't take the time to pause enough to think about what we're putting into the minds of our children. We decide that they must be safe. Maybe they are, and maybe they aren't. My point is that our double standard isn't fair. We are expecting something of Mr. Aronofsky that we don't even expect of our own brothers and sisters. We are trying to hold a non-believer to a higher standard than we have placed on Big Idea Productions, a company created and run by Christians! How unfair is that??? At least Darren Aronofsky has not tried to pull the wool over our eyes. He does not claim Biblical accuracy. He was aiming for a blockbuster film. He was aiming for his film to get a lot of attention, and we have certainly given him that!

Will I see Noah? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. What I won't do is be a part of the double standard. You can't have it both ways, fellow believers. If you don't want to see this film, then I support your decision fully, but I hope you take some time to think about holding your other media choices to the same standard.

A Tale of Two Decembers

Christmas.

I love it.

I'm going to be totally honest here and tell the blogosphere that we came into this Christmas season flat broke, and not because we have been poor stewards or have been walking in disobedience, though there were lessons God needed to teach us through our flat-brokeness (I decided that was a word as I wrote it). My husband was working his tail off in a place that wasn't employee-friendly doing a job that he didn't love, and, when those two things combine with the fact that his job was 100% commission based, you can imagine that we've been struggling to get by. So, right before Thanksgiving, Eric took a new job. Unfortunately, the time period between the training for the job and actually starting the job and then getting paid for his first week in the field left us without a paycheck for 3 days shy of a month.

And it was Christmas.

Although in ideal circumstances, we would have chosen to save for Christmas gifts all year, we found ourselves in a position in which we had no cash, no plan, and no idea how we were going to make this Christmas great. Our kids didn't even make Christmas lists or ask for anything because they knew things weren't good. It was not the easiest thing to think about the possibility of having an empty tree, and since I don't believe for a second that God is in the business of disappointment, I decided not to think about it and to wait on a miracle. Some might say that I was in denial, but I was not. I was thoroughly and completely, totally, 100% counting on God to put gifts under our Christmas tree.

Why? Am I crazy, you ask? Well, I might be, but there was some reasoning behind my line of thinking.

Let me back up a little.

2012 was the worst year of my life. We spent 11 months (2 of those in 2011) wondering if my husband was going to prison for tax crimes he did not knowingly or willingly commit. Because of this, we were out of relationship with several family members who were, admittedly, at a loss of whose side to take, and, on top of that, Eric lost his job because he couldn't carry an insurance license in Ohio due to the tax crime issue. We had one month of part-time employment followed by a month of unemployment, but, since Eric was an independent agent, there were no unemployment checks gracing our mailbox.

That's enough to put anyone over the edge, don't you think?

That...is only part of the story.

We also spent the entire year of 2012 watching my mom's health go up and down on a roller-coaster, with each hill being a little lower than the last until she finally passed away on December 12, 2012. 14 days later, my Dad called because he couldn't breathe. He slipped into a coma and passed away three days later on December 29th.

And I don't want to forget to mention that, also in December, smack in between my parents' funerals, my father-in-law went to federal prison for the above mentioned tax crimes, a sentence from which the Lord graciously shielded Eric at the very last minute because the Lord knew His innocence.

Praise God!

Are you shaking your head yet? I bet you are. Some of you probably have had to pick your jaws off the floor. If you know us at all and have not yet heard this story, your reaction is probably very similar to everyone who has already heard it. "She has to be exagerating!" "This can't be real."

I thought those exact words many times, and there were certainly days when all I wanted to do was go to bed because there was solace and escape in sleeping.

You can imagine that there were moments when I found it hard to breathe, impossible to think, when I wasn't sure I was capable of putting my feet on the floor in the morning or crawling off the couch, but the Lord carried me through it all. Federal courtrooms, emergency rooms, weeks of hospital wards, needles, chemotherapy, visits with federal officers, that early morning phone call from Dad saying Mom was gone, and holding Daddy's hand as he breathed his final breath...

I did it, not because I am someone especially strong because what I learned about myself is that I am weak. So very, very weak. I did what I had to do because, in my opinion, there was no other choice. I would love to tell you I did it with grace, but I can't say that. There was sometimes yelling, tears, falling apart. There were words said that should not have been said to the people I love most. I did not always handle it all with grace.

I remember my entire body aching from the stress of it all, feeling like my feet literally weighed 50 pounds as I stepped into the hospital parking lot to visit with my mother as she suffered terribly.

And December was the worst month ever. December, my favorite month! The month of music and happiness and joy and lights and Jesus!!!

So, knowing that God always knows what we need, and knowing in my heart what my children needed this month, I knew there would be happiness, joy, and, yes, even gifts. Somehow, I knew God would put gifts under the tree.

And He did.

But before that, as I have said in previous posts, He gave me joy in the journey of Christmas this month. He gave my whole family joy this Christmas. There were a few rough days when we approached that December 12th anniversary, but we pushed through it. And today? Today is the December 29th anniversary, the day my daddy breathed his last. I didn't know how I would handle this day. It is the last of the days I felt like I would have to survive this year. For that, I am thankful, but I am also thankful that I am not a mess. I am not falling apart.

There is a part of me that wants to remember those moments, holding Daddy's hand, stroking his arm as he lay almost lifeless in the critical care unit.

Why?

Because God brought me through it. Because those were my last moments with my dad. Because it was a privilege to be the one at his side in that moment. An impossibly painful privilege, but a privilege, no less.

I felt God there with me even though I knew in my heart that my daddy was gone long before he stopped breathing.

Daddy loved Christmas. So did Mom.

I sometimes wonder if Christmas even registers on the radar in heaven. God definitely placed emphasis on feasts and celebration and remembrance in the Bible, so I want to think that Jesus coming to earth is something worth remembering there too. What we make of Christmas, the gifts, carols, decorations, the television specials, and the dreaded commercialization, are not things that God probably cares too much about, but there is something to be said for God caring because He knows that we care. Afterall, He cares for us, does He not?

Somewhere around mid-month, I finally had my kids make Christmas lists because, when someone asked me what they wanted, I had no idea how to answer them. None. My kids are not exposed to a lot of media advertising, and they are not by nature "I want that" kind of kids. The next day, someone else called and said, "So tell me what your kids want for Christmas."

And then she went shopping with some friends, people we don't even know!

That's right. God put gifts under our Christmas tree.

And God didn't stop there. We were given the opportunity to shop for our kids with gift cards that were given to us.

And we were given the opportunity to pay several bills, put gas in our van, and buy groceries. Remember that there was no paycheck for most of a month, and, still, our needs were met.

We even had enough to fix our very broken down van when the alternator went out.

And we were given another super-duper awesomely spectacular Christmas gift surprise which I will blog about in a seperate post because it was so great.

In the end, we spent very, very little on our kids compared to what most households spend on their children. Under our tree were things our kids needed, like pajama pants, slippers, and sweatshirts. There were also fun surprises that caused their faces to light up brighter than the tree itself.

If I really broke it all down for you, you would agree with me. God abundantly blessed us far beyond anything we could have asked or imagined. Did we need gifts under our tree?

No.

What we needed was to remember the joy of the season, not the secular "spirit of Christmas" that is regarded so highly in the movies and music of the season, but the real joy that comes in knowing that all these trees with lights and ornaments, all the houses glowing with decorations, all these community and church gatherings...they wouldn't be happening if it weren't for the Savior. He came here, to earth, for us. He didn't have to. He lived His earthly life knowing He would die a painful death for us. Can any of us truly say we have loved like that?

That is enough. Gifts under the tree don't compare to the gift in the manger and the gift on the cross.

But because God loves us so much and wanted to bless us beyond anything we imagined, because He wanted us to remember all that He has done for us, to tell His story, to share His Word, and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He delights in us...

He gave us this gift of Christmas presents surrounding our sparkling Christmas tree.

Because He loves us, and He wanted to give us a little extra...

Joy.

Merry Christmas, friends.

Merry, Joy-filled, Happy, Hope-filled Christmas!

In All Things...Thanksgiving

Two things you need to know before reading this post:

1. I'm going to live through the next month or so on my blog, and it will not always be happy, and I might write through tears at times, and the writing may not be great. In fact, the writing is unlikely to even be mediocre. Some posts will likely be play-by-play, "how I lived through" this moment in time.
 
2. Thanksgiving. I love it. I look forward to it. I enjoy the purpose, the ambiance, the family, cooking with family, relaxing together, laughing, talking...It's always a joy. 

I wasn't sure I would have any of that this year. I prayed for joy (and I continue to do so now). I invited some of my aunts and uncles for the holiday thinking that I absolutely could not be alone on Thanksgiving, not that I would technically be "alone" with my husband and kids in the house, but we were facing two empty chairs at our table this year, as most of you know. Typically I host my parents and whoever else can make it each year for Thanksgiving. I like a full house on this holiday. Two years ago, we had my parents, one uncle, and an Amish family of 6!

It turned out to be a lovely day. My Aunt Bonnie and Uncle John came down from Toledo on Wednesday and stayed until Friday afternoon. I got a lot of baking and cooking prep done on Wednesday, and Thanksgiving Day cooking was relatively relaxed. I almost forgot to make potatoes, and the turkey roaster came unplugged who knows when (I checked it the old-fashioned way without a thermometer), but the meal was perfect and served 45 minutes into the one hour window I gave myself, which is what I call "on time." And, Bonus! Uncle Frank stopped by for a little while.

I wasn't sure how this holiday would go. I missed my parents profusely leading up to it. I had a dream early on Thanksgiving morning (after the turkey was in the oven and I was sleeping on the couch), and, in that dream, Mom sat holding my hand while runner her other hand along my brow as I slept. I felt Mom's presence and absense in many ways, and I felt Dad's too. 

When dinner was over and I realized I forgot the cranberry sauce? I remembered the Christmas two years ago when I did that exact same thing, but Dad was too polite to say anything and ate his meal without it even though he made sure I had bought some. When I deviated from my mom's dressing recipe in order to make a gluten-free version, I thought about how much my mama would not like that dressing stuffed into the turkey (it was fantastic, by the way!), and I smiled a little.

Hmm. I just realized as I was reflecting on last Thanksgiving that I actually wore the same sweater this Thanksgiving Day that my mama wore on her very last earthly Thanksgiving Day. Mama's cozy chenille sweater can't be beaten.

So, on this holiday that I thought would likely be the most difficult of all, I managed to mostly hold myself together. There were some tears in the kitchen, and pangs of lonliness, which were deepest when I made Mama's Apple Pie. 

Oh how Daddy loved that pie...

There is so much to be thankful for. Can you imagine giving thanks in heaven? That's what my folks are doing, and they get the whole "give thanks continually" thing and don't require a single day, set aside for giving thanks. That has been my focus this year, giving thanks in all circumstances, all year long, while riding a roller-coaster of emotions, when life feels catastrophic and lonely, and your heart feels crushed...

Give thanks.

Thanksgiving in all things.

All circumstances.

All the time.

Thank you, Father, for holding them in Your loving, safe arms. Thank You, Father, for taking away their pain and giving them perfect healing. Thank You for provision, for Aunt Bonnie and Uncle John, for kids who are exuberant and kind and helpful, for a husband who prays me through it all. Thank You, Father, for all You have taught me this year. I love You.

Be Utterly Amazed!

If I could detail everything God has done in my spiritual walk recently, you would not have the time to read it. If I had the time to put words on paper (or screen), I would write a book. I've written some words this month, but nothing that could amount to a book, though it is a start. Maybe. Some day, I just may get all my thoughts of the past few years of my life into order and produce something worthy of the reading public. That would be a dream come true!

In the meantime, I share snippets here when time allows, or I write in my private journal. Years ago, when I first heard of blogging, I thought I could never do it because I couldn't replace my journal. Then I realized, it doesn't have to. There is something to be said about pen and paper. I intend to never give it up.

So...recently, God has been on the move.

God asked me if I would be okay if a specific circumstance came to be.

In the blink of a second, my mind raced through all God has done for me. The little things and the big.

Delivering my family from the possibility of unjustified physical separation.

Giving me discernment in choosing curriculum.

Carrying me through months of what I can only remember as despair.

Two beautiful, healthy babies who are wonderful companions.

I remembered hospital rooms, nurses, courtrooms, lawyers, a clear and chilly December morning, snow falling on evergreens outside the second story hospital lobby, numbness, brain fog, that feeling of not knowing if I could physically place one foot in front of the other, dizziness, panic attacks, anxiety...

And as I drove down 2nd Street that rainy morning, I said out loud, "Yes. I will be okay."

I knew I would hate it, but I knew I would be okay.

There were other things God asked of me recently, some of them easier than others. I had to go get the old wreaths I had placed on my parents' graves. I stood in the cemetery knowing the Lord was asking me to worship then and there and not wanting to do so at the same time. I convinced myself (partially) that it was all in my head. As I turned to leave, I noticed a stone I must have looked at 100 times and never read. The few lines from "Great is Thy Faithfulness" were staring at me.  

Knowing that worshiping the Lord through music is how I feel the most intimate with God, I knew what I had to do. It wasn't in my imagination. God wanted me to obey, not because He insistently needed me to worship Him in that moment, but to prove to myself the answer to what He was asking me. 

"Are you okay without them?"

Of course I am. Jesus is enough. All I need. I quietly choked my way through a couple verses of the old hymn, but I sang with my heart full. I thought of my mom suffering through months of treatments and worse months of pain and that last month of no treatments at all and the excruciating pain and ungodly symptoms.

"Thank You, Father, for healing her. Thank You for making her perfect."

"Thank You for taking away all of Daddy's pain."

This is a true test of thankfulness. These are the hard thanksgiving moments, when our gratitude counts the most. These two things I have said before, and I have meant them at the time, but there are moments when I find myself just wanting my parents back so desperately that I take the words back. I needed this reminder from God this week. Worshiping and offering this true sacrifice of thanksgiving, something I did not, could not fully understand until last December, this is what Thanksgiving is all about.

I know I am okay, and I don't want to give the impression that I am still deeply mourning. This was all in the course of an afternoon or two. I still think these wandering thoughts, and sometimes in the midst of the everyday circumstances that are trivial in comparison, I get lost in the lesser things. I complain to God.

I whine.

About the mundane and everyday, about the things that are hard right now, and the things I don't want to happen and the things that I wish would happen.

I tell Him when I don't understand, and I know He can take it. I don't need to understand. We are never promised that we will understand, and I know this.

Trust. That's my problem. I forget to trust. Or, I tell myself that I just don't know if I can trust anymore. Can I trust this God of mine to do even this? This big deal? This humanly impossible thing?

Of course I can, so I give it to Him, and I give it to Him again and again and again.

Yesterday, I read the book of Habakkuk. Chapter 1 verse 5 says, "watch and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told."

I knew the Lord planned for me to read that exact verse yesterday. I felt it in my soul. I copied the verse into my journal. I probably read it over ten times. I prayed the verse, and then I went on with my day, teaching the kids this and that, doing what needed to be done.

Then my husband called.

That seemingly impossible thing? God took care of it. Months of wondering about the impossible, praying together, asking others to pray, and then beginning to wonder if God might not answer the way we wanted.

But He did answer. Exactly the way we needed Him to, bigger than we could have imagined.

Because my God does that. He is who He says. He does what He says He'll do. He cares for me, and He cares for you.  He is all we need.

I stand overwhelmed by this God of all wonders, the Most High God of the universe, who cares for me. 

For me!

And I fall in love with Him a little more. I cannot help it. I am all His because He made Himself all mine.

Watch and be utterly amazed at what the Lord will do in your lifetime. I promise, if you stand on your watchtower and wait patiently for Him, He will show up, and you will be astounded.

Righteous Complacency

Today, God met me. The sermon title this morning?

Righteous Complacency

What do you think about that? I read the bulletin and thought, "Well this sounds interesting. I don't totally get it." It certainly piqued my interest as far as sermon titles go. The main point that stuck with me was that Christians tend to make excuses for various complacent attitudes or choices we make. It's true. I've done it. I'm sure most of us have done it. It is easy to desire to fit into the culture around us, and it is growing increasingly easier to use that as an excuse to water down our personal life styles. Entertainment choices, modest clothing, and involving ourselves in every "good" activity that comes our way to the detriment of our families are just a few of these areas that I see people compromising on a regular basis.

In support of this point about complacency, Pastor Jason used the story of Lot to illustrate his sermon. The apostle Peter refers to Lot as a righteous man. When we first hear of Lot and Abram separating, Lot moves his tents near Sodom. Just a couple verses later, we see that Lot is living in Sodom. His family was the only family God was willing to save from Sodom when He destroyed it, so Lot must have been doing something right, and yet he did something so very wrong. I expect that He was doing a lot of things right, but we know that Lot was influenced by the culture around him because of what happened next in the story. Two angels sent by the Lord entered Sodom. Lot brought them to his home and insisted they stay there. When the people of Sodom showed up demanding to have their way with these two strangers, Lot offered his own daughters to them instead. You may look at this and think, "He was protecting the messengers of God," but what Lot really did was a massive compromise that likely destroyed his daughters. Can you even imagine doing such a thing? I can't. Fear often causes us to make compromises. We may not be giving our daughters to crowds to allow them to have their way with them, but Christians often make all kinds of other compromises that are just as dangerous to our souls.

I rarely, if ever, go into this much detail about a sermon in a blog post, but I was so very captivated this morning as I listened to the story of Lot in an entirely new light. I've always read the story and thought that Lot was anything but righteous, but the Bible tells us that he was, indeed, righteous. In some ways, I find this comforting. I judge myself harshly and don't view myself as righteous. I speak things I shouldn't, I sometimes have a short fuse, I have control issues (especially when my husband is driving), and I could go on and on. The good news is that, I seek righteousness, and Eric and I seek to give that passion for holy things to our children. 

Today's sermon left me feeling convicted and challenged, and I will spend time reflecting throughout the week on what the Lord wants me to do with the information. God was moving among us this morning. 

When we got home? One of those things I gave to God at the alter came up in our family conversation, not because I brought it up, but because God convicted Eric of the same thing. I love when God confirms something in our hearts like that. He is awesome, and today He made His divine presence known from the moment the first note of worship was played until we left the building and throughout the day. Even this evening, when we were back at church, God was growing us. 

I love that we are in a church where God is moving, growing, stretching, and teaching us new things. Today, I was filled by the Lord just as it should be. 

How was your Sunday morning worship experience? My hope is that you too were ushered into the divine presence of God!

Get Out of Your Cozy Zone

Outreach. It's the big deal in evangelical churches and for good reason. We want the kingdom to grow, and, to do that, we must have some type of outreach. It seemed like in the past anything that involved inviting people who didn't attend your church to come to your church was called outreach. This is common practice even today.

Examples:

"VBS Program" Invite the neighbor kids to come to your church.

"Chili Cook-off" Invite the neighborhood to come taste your chili at your church

and my personal favorite and old-fashioned stand-by, "Bring a Friend Sunday," on which you invite someone who doesn't already have a church home or who is searching for faith to come to your church.

Notice anything? 

I'll give you a hint. Bold letters.

All of these things serve a great purpose and certainly have their place, and I'm not knocking any of them. All I'm saying is that the outreach in its very root has the word "out" in it for a reason.  

Get out of the church. Reach people.

I don't think I did get it for a long time. I tend to be introverted, and though I've served on leadership teams for many various things, started going on mission trips as a young girl, and willingly have served in many ways, getting out of the church takes me far from my comfort zone, so I avoided giving it any thought. I think most people could say the same thing if they took a moment to be honest with themselves about it. We go where we are comfortable, and we try to stay there most of the time. Having attended church since the age of 6, church is my cozy space. Being the church to the world and reaching out isn't easy for me, but this is what Jesus asks of us. He didn't stay inside His Father's house where Mary and Joseph found Him teaching at age 12. He ventured into the world and spent time with people in some pretty uncomfortable locales. We are called to put on our Jesus shoes and do the same thing. 

Get out of our cozy zone and reach the world.

I believe this looks different for individual faith communities, but I believe that the one characteristic that effective Christian outreach contains regardless of your denomination, style of worship, geographic location, size of your congregation and various other factors is that it takes place away from our buildings and requires us to engage with people right where we live. 

I'll offer ideas on what I have seen work in another post. For now, I hope I have you thinking about how your church can reach those around you effectively and truly be Jesus to the world.

The Heart of the Matter

I remember my dad coming home from work on hot, summer days, sunburned, dirt smeared on his face, sweat still clinging to his clothes. Those were hard work days, and the last thing he needed was to come home and find his wife upset, with hurt emotions pouring from every muscle in her face because their pre-teen daughter said something hurtful again. He would deal with me immediately, usually in a way that made me very unhappy and more angry at my mother for whatever infraction she had committed against me. Usually, I would be grounded and threatened with some other harsher, long-term punishment that never took place. 

Now I live on the other side of the battle. I watch as my pre-teen tries to discover where he fits in the world, and I desperately want to help him figure it out. Most of us muddle through this season, not having any idea if we're doing or saying the right things to help our young people to become men and women who reflect Jesus. Since our goal is to share eternity with this son of ours and to raise a confident, strong, capable man of God, we must choose to discover God's way to disciple and discipline this child. Muddling is not an option. We don't get a second chance, so we have to believe that God has fully equipped us for this.

So how do we do that? How do I look at this budding man I adore with all my mama heart and train him to become like Christ? How do I stand face to face, eyes blazing at me, tongue lashing at me, anger flames scorching me without lashing back?

What I realized when I was thinking through things the other day was that what my parents usually chose for me didn't work. I was grounded. Frequently. I was given extra chores. It didn't help. So is there a purpose in us using these same consequences? Does grounding have a place in our parenting plan?

I think, yes; it does. Yesterday, in a conversation concerning how aggravated his current consequences were making him, I expressed to my young man that grounding will serve two purposes for him (and probably more). He will be reminded that he needs to find a better way to handle his emotions every time he hears the neighbors playing outside without him and every time he notices his sister getting some time on the computer or television, or when I borrow his Ipod because, why not? He isn't going to be using it. He will have so much more time on his hands to think about finding that better way.

But here is the deeper answer to the question. Standard consequences can't stand alone. They must be accompanied with more. How can we do this His way?
Discipleship. Character training.  This problem with my pre-teen is a heart issue. Sure, a lot of kids go through it, but Christian parents have to stop overlooking heart conditions in our children just because "everyone else is doing it." It makes me cringe when I hear other parents blow it off. The Bible does not say, "Be kind except for when you're learning to deal with raging new hormones," so unacceptable behaviors should not be tolerated in the name of teen angst. Neither does the Bible say, "Train up a child in the way he should go until he is 11 and he isn't always nice anymore because all kids go through that."

I am a realist. I know there will be moments when I want to lash back, when I want to throw in the towel even. We will probably re-play Monday's scene, when my husband came home from work knowing very little of what happened but keenly aware that I was hurting. I had that same look my mother used to give my own daddy. I will tell him what transpired, from both sides of the battlefield,  the good and the bad because my human nature sometimes escapes from my lips. 

My husband will walk up the stairs, sit with our son, talk with him, share scripture, put his arm around him, and pray with him. He will follow this up with accountability, making sure he has spent time in the Word daily.

That's pretty incredible, isn't it? 
 
On Monday evening when my son finally descended the stairs with humility, I saw him coming, and I waited for him to speak first this time. He sat across from me on the couch and with a tone of total regret said, "Mom, I'm really sorry."

And I believed him. 

This too is pretty incredible. 

I won't say that I handled things perfectly because I certainly did not, but I believe I gained some momentum. Am I exhausted with this process at times? You betcha. There will be days when I will need my husband or a dear friend to remind me that I'm getting some of this right because...

He's only 11. We have a long way to go, and his sister is trailing right behind him!

Grace and Icing on the Cake

The last two months have been jam-packed. There have been few days for reflection or rest, and I find myself longing for a break in the chaos. "Two more weeks!" I keep telling myself that we're almost at the end of the busy season, and that is what has been coercing me through each day.

On Monday of this week, I had a brief moment of surprised realization. I stood in my kitchen cooking dinner and thought to myself, "This day feels normal." I didn't follow that thought with anything else. There was no, "Is that okay?" because I know that it is. I also knew that everyday wasn't going to feel normal quite yet, and that is also okay. The new normal is coming, and that is okay.

Someone dear to me has been traveling a hard road this week, and I find myself wondering why, and then I realize that it is presumptuous to even think that I need to know why. It isn't for me to know, or I already would. I say all the trite things that don't really matter, and then I find that the most wisdom, the most comfort, the most sympathy, empathy, understanding...sometimes comes in silence. So I offer her no words except that I love her with all my heart, that I hate what she faces, that I am praying for her, with her, and crying.

Last Sunday I stood in church singing with all my heart, "Your grace is enough! Your grace is enough! Your grace is enough for me!" Suddenly, it hit me. Is it? Do I really believe that? "Is Your grace enough?" Do I live that? Shouldn't I? If I sing it, if I not only sing it alone but as a lead worshiper, shouldn't I fully embrace this truth? Is His grace enough?

Of course it is! That is truth. 

His grace is enough. 

Everything else is icing on the cake. Why have I not recognized this, fully lived it?  

His grace is enough. 

He is all I need. All those blessings are because He loves me, favors me, wants to give me a great big hug, because I am his kid. I don't deserve them. I don't even deserve his grace, but I see for the first time that, truly, His grace is fully and completely all I need.

This morning, my phone rang early. One missed call from Aunt Linda, one from my sister. I knew. Uncle Donald was gone, passed early this morning. I called to confirm the news, and then I spent today reflecting. This uncle of mine was my mom's nearest to her age sibling, her first brother, four years younger than she. He was quiet and kept to himself, rarely seeking conversation. I saw him often as a child, spoke to him little, knew him barely. As an adult, it was much the same. I wonder what I missed, though I will never find out because he preferred it this way. His choice. I respected it.

I have a funeral to attend this weekend in a town I rarely have opportunities to visit. My grandparents are long gone, but I will go to their home where my aunt lives with her husband, and I will miss them, and I will miss Mama, and I will go to the funeral home, and I will hurt. I hurt now thinking about it. I am crushed for my aunts and uncle who have lost two siblings plus my father, their brother-in-law since they were little kids themselves, in such a short time. I breathe deeply. I sigh. I cry. I pray. I reflect.

And I remember that revelation moment on Sunday as I was singing. His grace is enough. In the busyness and chaos, His grace is enough. When the days start to feel normal and when they don't, His grace is enough. When life is weighing on the crux of His hand, and we don't know what is going to happen, praise Him for the life because His grace is enough. When death and funerals and remembering cut your chest to the depths of your heart and you feel real, physical pain, His grace is enough.

Everything else is icing on the cake.

Looking Through the Window of Blessings...2

While reading a short portion of Ann Voskamp's book today, I was inspired by her words once again.

"When I name moments- string out laundry and name-pray, thank You, Lord, for bedsheets in billowing winds, for fluff of sparrow landing on line, sun winter warm, and one last leaf still hanging in the orchard- I am Adam and I discover my meaning and God's, and to name is to learn the language of Paradise."

And so I continue to name God's blessings...

51. Love notes from my sweet husband
53. Phone chats with my sister
54. The opportunity to love
55. I Peter 5:10 texted to me by my husband
57. All those cards Mama faithfully sent
58. A man who prays for me and loves me
62. Noise
63. Silence
66. Longevity in friendships
71. Honest words from a child searching for faith
73. The smell of chocolate
76. The smile on her face
81. Heart-shaped pancakes
90. Snow falling ballerina soft
92. The memories held in the photos

Looking Through the Window of Blessings...1

There couldn't be a better stage of my life to be focusing on life's little blessings. Today was no exception. Some days, I feel like I'm a hot mess. No, seriously. You wouldn't believe the craziness that is lurking just below the surface.

Anyway...a window into today's blessings...

35. Challenging words from an internet article
37. The privilege of being used by God to draw others to Him
38. Nerf wars
39. Psalm 40: 1-3 "Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord."
41. Forgiveness from a friend
45. Singing at the tops of our lungs
49. That feeling I get sometimes when driving Daddy's truck, like a part of him is in the truck with me.

Insurmountable

Insurmountable. This is a human word. It doesn't exist in  God's vocabulary. He would never say it. He wouldn't think it. Neither should we.

My family is facing what some people might believe to be insurmountable circumstances, but we know the truth, that we serve a God who can do all things. We're not trying to do anything on our own. We are praying together and leaning on the Father. Eric and I pray together. We pray with the kids. We have had to trust them with more than the hearts of any 8 or 10 year old should have to be trusted, but this is what life is right now. They have learned hard lessons, but they have learned good lessons. God is good. All the time. He is all we need.

If I felt at liberty to reveal all that we are going through, you would be shaking your head from side to side, wondering how we're still pressing on. I wondered for a while. It felt like we were sinking, swirling out of control in a storm beyond the confines of anything we have ever experienced. The pressure was overwhelming. The decisions that lay before us were indeterminable. We were nit-picking every decision, every thought, everything we know that we know that we know about God's plan for us. 

There was emptiness. There was wondering. There was doubt in ourselves and our ability to make grown-up decisions. There was the feeling that adolescents get when they are trying to make decisions they aren't yet prepared to make, decisions for which they still need their parents. We needed Jesus. Our awareness of our need for Jesus was greater than it ever had been.

There was prayer. There was Bible study. Wisdom seeking from trusted believers. Advice taking. 

I began to pray that no matter what decisions we made, that we had unity. I knew that I needed to trust God through my husband. This has been a struggle for me in the past, but the Lord has done a mighty work in my heart. It even occurred to me that this might be part of God's purpose for me during this season. Refining my submission skills. I can't tell you what a blessing it has been for me to do so, but that is a topic for another post.

Unity. It came.

Since unity is what I asked God to provide, He did it. It wasn't that we were arguing about the choices that lay before us. It was simply that the task of making the right choices seemed to be insurmountable, as I said. Difficult doesn't begin to describe it. You know that phrase, "When life throws you lemons, make lemonade?" Well, what do you do when life throws you watermelons? That's what we had to decide. How do you make lemonade from watermelons?

I still don't know how everything is going to work out for us. We are making one decision at a time. We are praying. We are seeking God. We have dozens of people praying with us and for us, offering advice, wondering if we are off our rockers, trusting us to make right decisions. We are devoted to not wavering in our stance. God is God no matter what happens. 

God. Is. God.

What I know is limited, but what I know is this. When you pray seeking God's will for your life with an open heart willing to accept whatever God chooses to do, that is the point at which God begins a new work in your life. When you pray knowing that the answer absolutely isn't going to be exactly what you would like it to be, knowing that what you really want is what God wants for you and your loved ones, even if it might make life seem...

yeah. INSURMOUNTABLE...

That's when God works miracles. That's when God changes your heart. Changes your mind. Confirms His plan. Directs your footsteps. Clarifies. Loves. Cherishes. Holds. Teaches. Loves.

God's got this. I have a peace that passes all understanding. I truly cannot explain it. Our plan is set before us. God knows what is going to happen, and I don't. It may be that I don't like what is about to happen in our life, but I don't have to like it. I just have to grow through it. Be faithful anyway. It may be that God has to pull me through the eye of a hurricane to get me through it, but what I know that I know that I know is that...

He will.

He will pull me through if He needs to.

He will carry me.

He will push when I need it.

He will grow me.

I am learning to trust, and I am witnessing great things in my life. 

Whatever happens in your life, choose to trust. Choose to believe that God has your best in mind. 

Choose Him.

With God, all things are possible.

Nothing is insurmountable. That word? It doesn't exist in God's vocabulary.

Forgiveness

Forgiveness.

When we were little kids, most of us were told at one time or another to say we were sorry, give each other a hug, and go play. Then, we were expected to run across the playground together, hand in hand, ready to play red rover or climb to the top of the jungle gym like nothing ever happened.

You mess up; you say you're sorry, and everything is fixed.

Oy.

If only it were that easy.

Is it even possible to forgive and forget? Maybe my memory is longer than yours, but I suspect you don't forget any easier than I do. When people wound your heart, you remember.

For a long time. 

Maybe forever. 

Forgiveness doesn't require you to forget.

There is so much pressure in this whole forgiveness thing because so many people have it wrong. Forgiveness is for you, not them. That's truth. You forgive because it releases you from being destroyed inside. Unforgiveness will fester inside you until you are bitter and cold and barely recognize yourself. I've watched this happen to people. There is someone in my life that I would love to have known before she lived with decades of unforgiveness in her heart. I see glimpses of a pretty remarkable person. I'd like to know that person, but, short of God doing a miracle in her heart, I don't know that I ever will.

The playground model doesn't work for me. The Bible says, "Guard your heart," for a reason. I'm not harboring unforgiveness, but I am also not stupidly pretending like things are the way they were. I'm not brushing anything under the rug as if it never happened. I can't do that. It isn't just my heart that was wounded. It was the hearts of my husband and children. Guarding my heart is important, but guarding their hearts is even bigger on my scale. Reconciling doesn't always mean that you go back to the way things were. It isn't always possible. Sure, have a relationship with that person again, but some wounds are too deep to be completely forgotten. Trust isn't something you should throw around. It is earned over years and lost in a split second. It takes wisdom and discernment to know whether or not someone should be trusted again. Right now, my heart says no.

I pray for the people who have wounded my family, and I sincerely hope they come to the understanding that what they have done has caused such a great rift that I believe only God can heal it, although this may be more about lessons learned than it is about healing relationships. I don't expect things to ever be the same. The longer you allow things to continue, the less likely you are to ever have what was once there, no matter how close you once were, no matter how closely related you are. If a person allows their own pride to dictate silence, they are actually screaming, "You aren't important  to me!!!"

Silence speaks louder than any words ever could.

Once you've known how unimportant you are for so long, you learn to live without the person.

Because you have to.

Because that's the only way to get past that hurt.

Because that's the only way you can survive.

I'm asking you, my readers, to pray for me and my family right now. We are all in various stages of forgiveness and reconciliation. Pray that we all are able to forgive completely and let go.

Stop with the Salt and Light

Yikes! WHAT is she going to write about with a title like THAT???

 

I got an indirect jibe this week via Facebook. Some people are so passionate about what they believe that they simply aren't capable of opening their minds to the possibility that another way of doing things just might be okay,or, dare I say, better? I have learned not to close my mind to the possibility that I might not have everything 100% figured out. Or 50% figured out. Or...at all figured out.

Christians are called to be salt and light. To have an effect on the world, we must be in the world and not of it. Have you heard all of this, Christian readers? Sure you have. This is one of the basic truths of our mission as Christians.

What is not a basic truth of our mission as Christians is that our children are supposed to be evangelizing the world. Children are put into our lives for us to evangelize and disciple them, not for them to be evangelizing others. There are countless scriptures that support this truth. COUNTLESS.

Would you send a child into any other vocation to do an adult's job? Nope. Sure wouldn't.

I'm not saying that a child can't have a heart for evangelism. I'm just saying that God did not design for children to be doing what they have not yet been prepared to do. It is our job as parents to train them up in the way they should go and to protect them until they are ready.

So don't use "salt and light" as your excuse to put your kids in public school, and please don't even think of trying to tell me that I should put my kids in public school so they can be salt and light either. 

And...for the record, this isn't an anti-public school, all Christians should homeschool kind of post. This is a "stop the salt and light" guilt trip. It simply isn't true. It doesn't hold up to scriptural truth. So...don't do it.

Scheduled Time

Do you schedule time with your family to talk to each other? If you don't, maybe you should. Our society is so bent on being busy all the time that we often busy ourselves right out of quality time with our family. I know, I know. I've been down this road in my blog before, but isn't it true? If you live in the same house, you should have time to talk to each other, right? Quality time shouldn't be defined as moments spoken in the car on your way to three different sports practices, nor should we live a lifestyle that causes us to feel like we have to play catch-up when it comes time for a vacation. Vacation should be bonus time together, not the only time we spend truly focused on being a family.

Six or seven months ago, we began doing a morning Bible study together. Previously, I always taught a Bible lesson during our school time, and Eric planned a devotional to do with us before bed. We still do a devotional before bed with the kids and spend time worshiping together through music during that time also, but we now do Bible study together in the morning before we start school and before Eric heads to work. We practice Bible memory work in the morning as well. Depending on what we're reading, this takes 20-30 minutes each morning, and our evening devotional probably takes 15-25 minutes. That doesn't sound like much, does it? I can't imagine any family not having time to spend together at one of these times of day.

On Saturday, we are blessed with the opportunity to spend a little extra time during Bible study. Today, we laughed and giggled and talked about all sorts of things that were sorta inspired by what we were reading in the Bible. Or not. John Glenn, seasonal allergies, red M&Ms, the upcoming primary and November elections...all topics that were mentioned during the hour we spent in our cozy living room enjoying each other and the Word. We're studying the book of Job right now, reading a chapter or two each morning, and we're memorizing scripture that coordinates with our evening devotional, Our 24 Family Ways, which we're wrapping up right now. Next, we'll be using the Duggar's Character Training spreadsheet (Scroll down and click on the box that says "Character Qualities") for Bible memory work and character training. 

Simply put, if you don't do this, I think you should. I don't think you should dive in and do everything that we're doing all at once, but I think you should start somewhere. You have to find what works best for your family. If you're concerned about time, head to the Duggar's spreadsheet and just start spending 5 minutes each morning and/or evening memorizing scripture and talking about Biblical character together. Sing a worship song each night before bed and pray together. Don't try to be a hero; just start somewhere.

I cherish these moments together. Saturday is my favorite because we aren't rushing around (we purposefully waited until after Lukas' basketball game). We don't just do Bible study. We connect. We tune into each other. We hear each others' hearts. And the topics that I mentioned that came up today? Those aren't the only kinds of topics that come up. Last night, we spoke about being sad about things that are going on in our lives because one of our kids really wanted and needed to talk about that. While learning what the Bible says about honesty, we talked about people in our lives who haven't been honest with us and how that has hurt our family. Talking about the little things opens the door for your children to talk to you about big things. Don't buy into the world's belief that children don't talk to their parents. Your children not only will talk to you, but they want to talk to you. It is our job as godly parents to provide them with safe opportunities to do so. 

I'm feeling so blessed by the time our family shared today. I hope that I have inspired you to do the same thing if you aren't already doing it. You will love it, and so will your kids!

Courageous Individuality

Are you a parent? What do you want for your kids? I have a list of things that I would like to see in each of my kid's lives. I've never written it down, but I have it inside my head. Here's an example of what part of that list might look like:

• Jesus in their heart.
• Biblical character
• Evidence of the fruits of the Spirit in their lives
• Godly spouse (don't worry. I'm not hoping for this any time soon, but I am praying for this)
• Talent that they can use to serve the Lord
• Biblical World View
• Strength
• Self-esteem
• Courage
• Confident individuality

That last one is a big deal to us right now. It goes along with good self-esteem, and it has a lot to do with finding your worth in Christ rather than the world. These are things that are high priorities for us, for many Christian parents. This means that our family doesn't look like most families, and we're fine with that. We homeschool. We read the Bible every morning and have a family worship time every evening. We spend time together the way families did when families stayed together in the first half of the 20th century. We cook from scratch. We grow things. And? We allow our children to grow and mature at their own pace and to be who they are rather than expecting them to become what the world expects them to be like.

This is why we encourage our children to express themselves in a variety of ways. For our son, this means that he is writing his first piano composition, creating Lego masterpieces and writing hilarious stories for school. It means he is singing and performing and giggling his way through life, and he is using these gifts to serve the church, something he has done since he was 8. I am proud of who he is and who he is becoming.

On Monday, Lukas shared with me as we were getting ready to leave the house to run errands and go to his basketball practice that his coach wasn't being fair. I had to pause to think before I spoke because we all know that what a 10 year old decides is "fair" is very broad. Or narrow. Depending on your perspective. I asked Lukas to explain to me what was happening. He was right. She wasn't being entirely fair, but, since life isn't always fair, I decided not to run to his rescue (this was one crazy giant leap for this mama). I talked through it with him. I suggested that he speak to her himself, and I gave him a few suggestions and asked him what he might say so that he was prepared. And then? I didn't even go into the gym.

When Lukas climbed into the van after practice, I asked him if he had spoken to his coach. He did it. I was so proud of him. And? She completely understood his point-of-view and ended up allowing all the kids the opportunity to grow some skills they had been lacking. Lukas was thrilled, and I could see the confidence on his face as I realized he had just matured by 10 years (we learned about hyperbole today in school. I never use it). This was a big deal. This is the kind of strength, courage, and character we want to see in our kids. It wasn't just about him. It was about all of the kids getting what they deserved. He's a team player, and he went to bat (err...went to the basket???) for his team. I love that kid. He's pretty outstanding if I do say so myself.

For Ava, expressing herself means that she is painting, coloring, cutting, pasting, molding, creating, and making big, sloppy messes every single day. She is dancing to worship music or singing her heart out (usually through her nose. argh!). She is putting together crazy outfits that make me shudder, but this is who she is, and I wouldn't change her for the world. She loves fashion, and, while her choices are not always what I would choose, and she is still learning about matching and what kinds of shirts can be layered together and which ones just don't quite work, it is so important to her that she is allowed to express herself through her clothing, and it's fine with us. This is not a battle worth choosing because, if we did, what would happen to her self-esteem? Her individuality? Yeah. So not worth it.

Just over a year ago, for example, our battle was over socks. "But MOM, all the girls at church are wearing mismatched socks." Say what??? Craziness. That's what I thought. Then we got together with family at Christmas, and our then 16 year old niece was wearing mismatched socks. We don't necessarily subscribe to all the latest fads in our house, but this one is harmless, so I relented. Ava's socks haven't matched in over a year. I'm so used to it that I don't give it a second thought or even notice most of the time. She loves it, and, she's right. All the other girls are wearing mismatched socks(okay, so a lot of girls, but not all). In fact, did you know you can actually buy socks that don't match? On purpose???

One day last month, I came downstairs, and Ava was wearing pastel sparkly pink leggings with knees stained brown from tree climbing and sand boxes and who knows what else. Layered over the leggings were plaid shorts with bright shades of yellow, blue, pink, green and purple on them. She wore a black, long-sleeved t-shirt with a "Rock Band" t-shirt over that. It was a masterpiece. Uh-hem. I shook my head a little and smiled. This is who my daughter is. We weren't going anywhere, so who cares? Right?

I've read many times that we should say yes to our children as much as possible. I actually haven't taken much time to think about that parenting philosophy, but in this case, it is very applicable. I let Ava choose her clothes because it is important to her. If we are leaving the house, I am more specific about what she can or cannot wear. But this freedom I am giving her to express herself? It is shaping her. It is molding her into who Jesus wants her to be. 

There are nay-sayers who believe I am ruining her. I am not. I am watching her learn to create outfits that look amazing. Sure, she's 8, so she gets it wrong more than she gets it right, but who cares? She's happy exploring her closet. When she isn't, she'll wear something different. Right? She is practicing individuality that is unstained by the world's expectations. If that is wrong, then I want to be wrong.

I love who this daughter of mine is. I want more of what she has. Courageous, confident individuality, unaltered by the world's expectations. She is who she is, and she is awesome. She takes my breath away.