Beauty Will Rise Ministries

19 Years

lissalitka — Wed, 23 Jan 2013 14:18:39 +0000

19 years…
Trials and Triumph
Joys and Sorrows
Laughter and Tears

19 years…
Ups and Downs
Highs and Lows
Plenty and Want

19 years…
Constant
Steady
Reliable

19 years…
Excitement
Adventure
Frivolity

Happy Anniversary to the man who still makes me laugh, who still brings a smile to my face, even when I don’t feel like smiling. Happy Anniversary to the man who shows me what love and commitment look like when done well. I wouldn’t trade a single moment of these

19 Years.

Hubby and I on our 15th Anniversary

The Pillow Experiment

lissalitka — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 19:22:24 +0000

My husband and I have been having an issue in the bedroom. Before you gasp and quickly leave the page, it’s okay…after all, my mom reads this blog! Our issue is one of space… or lack thereof. You see, my husband has become a crowder. He has tried for weeks now to push me out of bed at least three times a night. I wake up, my heart pounding as I’m hanging on to the side for dear life, trying not to focus on the fact that my beloved is trying to oust me.

So, last night I devised a brilliant plan. I decided to put up a divider. I laid a pillow between us, right down the center of the bed and having flashbacks to when I was younger and would take family vacations and inform my brother he was not to cross the crease in the middle of the seat and venture into my territory, I thusly informed my husband to stay on his side of the bed.

And guess what…he did! It worked. Except for one thing. I was awake most of the night worrying I would cross the line. I couldn’t get comfortable at all. I found myself hugging the edge of the bed to make sure I wasn’t too close to the center…as my man snored away beside me, oblivious to my nighttime angst.

Somewhere about 2 a.m. it dawned on me that our Christian walk is not unlike my pillow experiment. Christ is to be the center of our lives. He was never meant to function as a divider, separating one from another. Too often, we view Him as that line we aren’t supposed to cross. We see Him as holding the rule book, just waiting to scold us if we get too close. So we hang onto the edge, not wanting to disappoint Him, but not willing to get too close to Him, either. We forget He wants to have a relationship with us. He pursues us. He adores us.

He wants us to trust Him. He wants us to know we can.

Once I removed the pillow from between my husband and I, a funny thing happened. I fell asleep and he stayed on his side of the bed. I’m not sure what that proves about my experiment (I’m way too tired to form a coherent conclusion) but I do know this for sure. Relationships don’t thrive when we set up walls. That includes our relationship with our Creator.

Are there walls you need to remove in order to build closer relationships?

A Word for 2013

lissalitka — Fri, 04 Jan 2013 18:41:44 +0000

I have taken a stand. For the last few years, I have decided not to make a New Year’s resolution. Absolutely not going to happen, under any circumstances, no way. You see, I was tired of feeling like a complete and utter failure by January 3. I know some people really thrive with the resolution thing, but I unfortunately, am not one of them.

I do, however believe it’s a good idea to reevaluate things once in awhile and the new year seems to lend itself to doing just that. So instead of resolving, I choose a word for the new year. Last year my word was STORY and I was amazed at how God used it throughout the year to keep me moving forward and to keep my focus on Him. And to think, I didn’t really even know what I was going to do with that little word.

Well, this year, true to form, I kept being led to another word that I really am not sure I want to deal with. It has the potential to open up a lot of unchartered territory. It has the makings of some big stuff. It’s a big word, worthy of a drum roll… maybe even some fanfare.

EXTRAVAGANT

As in EXTRAVAGANT worship – no, that doesn’t scare me at all (typed with much sarcasm)
As in EXTRAVAGANT love, giving and receiving. Realizing and accepting that God loves me extravagantly (easy-peasy, right) and sharing that love with others.
As in EXTRAVAGANT dreams – God has placed some pretty lofty dreams in my heart and speaking them out loud…well…scares me. Maybe courage would’ve been a better word for me.

Well, it’s a good thing I have a year to hash all of this out, right?

I had the privilege of being chosen to participate in the God-Sized Dream Team, created by Holley Gerth. I encourage you to get a copy of her newest book, “The Do What You Can” Plan, (Ebook Shorts): 21 Days to Making Any Area of Your Life Better.” Holley is absolutely darling and has a way of encouraging and challenging you with so much love it kind of oozes out between the lines and before you know it, you’ve been changed. You won’t be disappointed and it is a great way to start off the new year with direction and purpose and who couldn’t use a little more of that?

2013 Word

So, I for one am quite excited to see how God is planning to show off this year. After all, He is very EXTRAVAGANT…

Do you choose a word for the year? If so, I’d love to hear it!

When Fear Drives Me to Clean Toilets

lissalitka — Wed, 07 Nov 2012 17:33:57 +0000

Today I cleaned my house. (I’ll wait while your gasp in disbelief). I know this shouldn’t be shocking. I am a wife and mom and keeping a clean house is supposed to be part of the gig, right? The thing is I don’t like to clean. Not even a little bit. In fact, the only thing I dislike more is exercising. Not a fan.

I decided today to clean. Only it wasn’t a noble decision. The truth is, it was more of an excuse not to do what needed to be done. Avoidance by cleaning. It’s a thing.

You see, over the weekend I lost hours and hours and hours worth of writing. I’m talking novels, short stories, blogs, Bible study lessons, ideas for future works, you name it, I lost it. We tried everything we could think of to retrieve it but the general consensus seems to be that a strange occurrence of some sort, probably never to be known, swooped in and wiped my computer clean.

I was in the middle of about three different projects and feeling pretty good about my progress. Needless to say, the meltdown that ensued upon the realization that I’d lost it all was not pretty. I’m not a crier. I have a friend who only looks more beautiful than usual when she cries. She just sort of glistens in a lovely sort of “I want to hug you and make it all better” kind of way. When I cry I look as though I’ve been stung by a swarm of wasps, all red and swollen and oozy. My crying causes people to run for the hills, sure they’ve encountered a modern day ogre.

I’ve since then moved passed the ugly cry and the overwhelmness has set in. I have a ton of work ahead of me to eventually regain maybe half of what I lost. But, as usually happens with unexpected yuck, I’ve learned something about myself. I don’t work well when I’m overwhelmed. In fact, I tend to shut down. I will go to great lengths to avoid starting something when I know the end is nowhere in sight. Hence the cleaning.

Now, I’m fully aware this is a really dumb way to approach (or not approach as it were) something. I think it’s an anxiety or fear thing, which we all know satan loves to taunt us with. I look at my pile of stuff to be done and think, “There’s no possible way I can tackle this. My goals are too big. My dreams are too lofty. It’s just too much.” So, I resort to folding laundry and scrubbing toilets.

Don’t get me wrong, cleaning is a good thing. I really should do it more. The problem is that I allow my fear or anxiety to take over and win. If I’m not doing anything, I’m not being effective at all. So, now that the cleaning is done, I’ve decided to stop looking at my pile of to-do’s as one thing and start looking at it as something I can check off, one thing at a time. Day by day without fear of failure, I will mark off my projects.

What things have you been avoiding to tackle? Will you chose to stop living in fear and start living in freedom?

For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline. - 2 Timothy 1:7

The Mystery of the Mask

lissalitka — Thu, 04 Oct 2012 17:02:27 +0000

Once upon a time in a small village in a far away land, there was a shop located between a bakery and an antique book store. By all outward appearances, there was nothing special about the shop. It was in fact, quite nondescript. So much so that most passersby paid it no attention, not even realizing it was there. Only a handful of people noticed the small white sign with black swirling letters hanging on the door that read simply Hide & Seek.
One early morning, a young lady was walking past the shop, taking the same route she did everyday when she noticed the storefront window. For some reason, on this morning, something caught her eye. Maybe it was the sun’s rays shining at just the right angle at just the right time. Or maybe she was just ready to see.
In the center of the window, nestled in a bed of pristine white feathers sat a mask. It was gloriously bejeweled, each row of sequins casting a different hue when touched by the sunlight. It sported beautiful feathers appearing to have sprouted out of the top of the mask in vibrant shades of blue. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing the young woman had ever seen.
As she stood admiring the mask, she noticed the door to the shop was slightly ajar. Allowing her curiosity to take over, the woman cautiously stepped inside and her eyes fell upon the most amazing sight. The walls of the small, square room she had entered was covered with masks of every size, color and shape, each unique and beautiful in its own way. The woman was mesmerized. She took no notice of the person sitting behind the counter busily working on yet another mask until the woman said, “Good morning.”
The young lady jumped and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see anyone.”
“Welcome to my shop,” replied the woman behind the counter.
“It’s incredible,” the young lady said with awe. “Where did all these masks come from?”
“Why, I made them, of course. I’m a mask-maker just like my mother and her mother before her and her mother before her.”
The shop owner stood and walked over to the young woman. Handing the young lady the mask she’d been working on she said, “Here. This should be about right.”
Confused, the young woman said, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”
“Try it,” the owner insisted.
Reluctantly, the woman took the mask in her hands with the same care she would use when holding a priceless crystal vase. She examined the mask, admiring the way the light bounced off it, causing it to come alive, as if it would dance away from her if given the chance.
“Go ahead, put it on.”
The young woman obediently raised the mask to her face.
“Look.” The owner turned her to face the wall and the woman walked to the mirror encircled by a myriad of masks. The reflection she saw staring back at her was glamorous. She was beautiful. But how could that be? She had never felt pretty. She was nothing special. If she had to describe herself, she could do so easily in one word…plain. Or backward, that would work, too.
But this woman, the one wearing the mask, she was pretty. She looked self-assured and she felt…different.
She turned from the mirror and began to return the mask when the owner said, “No. You keep it.”
“Oh, I can’t. There’s no way I could ever afford something like this.”
“But my dear, I made it for you.”
Before she could ask how that could possibly be, the door opened and a woman walked in demanding the shop owner’s attention. The young woman quickly left the shop, the mask firmly on her face, before giving the mask-maker the opportunity to change her mind.
The next morning, the young woman was standing at the shop door, anxiously awaiting the shop owner’s arrival.
“Good morning,” the owner said as if greeting an old friend.
“You tricked me,” the woman said.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I wore this mask, or whatever it is out of here and went about my daily routine and no one, not one person commented on it. It was as if I wasn’t wearing it at all.”
“Hmm,” the owner responded.
“I even went out of my way, speaking to people I normally shy away from, and all I got where these strange looks. I even overheard two women talking and one of them said, ‘There’s something odd about her. She seems somehow different.’”
“Curious,” said the mask-maker, an understanding look in her eyes.
“My own husband didn’t even mention it. All he said was, ‘What happened to you today? You seem changed.’ He said nothing of my beautiful mask.”
“My dear, he can’t see it. No one can.”
“That’s absurd,” the woman scoffed walking over to the mirror. “I am clearly wearing a beautiful mask.”
“You are. But it’s only visible to you.”
“So it’s magic,” the young woman asked, her eyes round with wonder.
“Something like that. Only the magic doesn’t happen when you put the mask on. No, the magic happens when you realize you don’t need to wear it.”
The young woman, still looking in the mirror slowly lowered the mask and continued staring at her reflection until a smile found its way to her face.
Without a word, the young woman handed the mask to the shop owner who accepted it with a smile.
“Thank you,” the woman said.
The mask-maker simply nodded, knowingly.

Take Heart!

lissalitka — Sat, 29 Sep 2012 17:55:43 +0000

I watched through the tears I could no longer hold back as crowds lined the road, waving flags and saluting a fallen hero. The hearse approached and four men, veterans from a war long ago, saluted and held the American flag high with a mixture of pride and sorrow clearly etched in their faces. This hero, too young to be gone, sacrificed everything for his country. For us. I watched as his hometown showed their appreciation in the only way they knew how, by simply standing along the road offering their gratitude to the family he left behind. And my heart was heavy.

I answered the phone and heard the news. “She only has weeks, maybe months to live.” The questions began. How can this be? They said the word remission. You can’t just reverse that diagnosis, right? Questions that have no answers. At least none that soothe. They say things like, “She’s lived a long life, a good life” and it’s meant to bring solace. Instead, it makes my heart heavy.

Ending. Closing. Finishing. Life is full of these moments. Heavy-hearted moments.

“Take heart, because I have overcome the world.”

I opened the mail to find a wedding invitation. The anticipation and hope of things to come could almost be felt as I read the words requesting our presence at the ceremony celebrating their union.

In a text message I read about the birth of a healthy baby boy. The pride and joy was tangible even through the small screen of my phone. Words gushing with excitement and love.

Beginning. Commencing. Starting. Life is full of these moments. Heartfelt moments.

Situations entangle themselves, bringing about emotion on top of emotion. Goodbyes followed by hellos. Sorrow pursued by joy. Laughter in the midst of tears. Endings and beginnings.

Life.

“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 NLT

Enough is Enough

lissalitka — Fri, 20 Jul 2012 16:01:45 +0000

I’ve decided that being an adult isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve been thinking about this as I watch my oldest daughter, who is on the verge of turning 18, trying to come to grips with what being an adult looks like. I remember that pull to leave home, take responsibility for myself, and make my own way. I remember struggling with why I believe what I believe and if I really believe what I’ve said I do. I remember making compromises that never should have been made and standing firm on things that were insignificant at best.

Walking into the world of adulthood is tough.
So is living in it.

There are endless responsibilities. Laundry, meals, bills, cleaning, not to mention raising little people who are counting on you for pretty much everything. There are decisions that have to be made every 20 seconds and a simple yes or no question can turn into a lengthy debate that involves words like “moral fortitude” and “eternal ramifications.”

This adult thing is hard. As grownups, we’re supposed to know stuff. We’re supposed to be in control and know when to relinquish it. We’re expected to make rules, and know when to change them. We’re told to be present until it’s time to step aside. We’re supposed to know the answers to not just the easy questions, but the hard ones, too. The ones that we wrestled with back in the day and then came to grips with not ever fully understanding.

The truth is, it’s not just being an adult that is hard. Life is hard. It’s full of endless decisions and questions we may never know the answer to while we walk on this earth.

One thing I know for sure…I know the One who has the answers.
I know the One who knows the plan.
I know the One who has written the end of the story.
And for now, that is enough.

Happy 4th!

lissalitka — Wed, 04 Jul 2012 19:59:48 +0000

Here’s to a day filled with backyard barbecues and picnics in the park.

Here’s to a day that finds you relaxing at the beach or with a good book.

May your day be filled with children laughing, sunscreen aplenty, and
ice cold lemonade.

May your day include sparklers and watermelon and a deep sense of gratitude
for the freedoms we so often take for granted and for the men and women who fight to ensure we don’t lose them.

God bless America!

Under the Tree

lissalitka — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 16:20:29 +0000

We sit in a circle under the familiar tree. The warm wind blows the branches and shades us from the sun.

We reminisce. Talk of days gone by. Memories shared. Things remembered. Each person anxious to share their fondest memory, but there are many. Cornfields. Rocks. Rooftop escapades. Climbing trees. Hollyhock dolls. Hide & seek behind the barns.

Things are recognized, well-known. Some things are new.

The circle is made up of family. The shape the same as it has always been. The cast of characters is different now. Looking around, there are new faces, additions that have taken the places of those who no longer sit under the tree. They are present nonetheless, those who have moved on. They fill the “Remember when’s…” and “Did you ever hear about the time’s…” and for a moment it seems the circle under the tree hasn’t changed.

There is comfortable laughter. There is nostalgia. A new generation of children playing and exploring evokes recollections of days gone by. Days full of adventure and make-believing. Days full of tractor rides and country living. Days spent learning the true meaning of love. Of family. Of faith.

If I close my eyes, I can almost go back to that time when things were simpler. Summer days that didn’t consist of adult worries but were full of laughter and childlike innocence. The handprints of two small children in the cement meant to serve as a reminder that when built on a strong foundation, family doesn’t break. It stands the test of time. It endures the heartaches, the elations, the trials.

Just like the tree under which we sit, the roots of family go deep. It seems appropriate that here, under this great maple, new stories are shared. New memories are made. They somehow entwine with the stories of yesterday. There is comfort in knowing the memories will be passed on, old and new, and will knit together with what is yet to come.

A legacy lived.

I think they would be pleased.

Remembering

lissalitka — Mon, 28 May 2012 14:27:54 +0000

Memories. For some of us this word conjures up feelings of joy, contentment, family, fun, tradition. For others it is a word full of hurt, pain, sorrow. Today, for all of us it should mean one thing…Gratitude.

Today, whether you personally know someone who has served or is serving in a branch of the armed forces or whether you have just been blessed with the freedom that comes from men and women you’ve never met who serve on your behalf, gratitude seems to be in order.

Gratitude for a freedom that has been so ingrained in us, most of us have no idea what it is like to live without it. Gratitude for men and women who are willing to leave behind all that they have, all that they love, all that they know to venture off into the unknown, the unexpected, with a belief that what they are fighting for is worth it. It’s worth the holidays spent apart from family. It’s worth the lonely nights, it’s worth missing their children’s birthdays.

Freedom isn’t easy. In fact, it’s anything but. Today, our hearts should be so full of gratitude for those who realize the price of freedom and go anyway. Those who defend what we here so often take for granted, sometimes by giving the ultimate sacrifice…their lives, deserve at the very least, our gratitude.

So thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for sacrificing so much.

Morris Litka
Kenneth Johnson
Derald Johnson
Jerry Johnson
Terry Johnson
Samuel Gossard
Joseph Gossard
William Winslow
Drew Winslow
Larry O’Dell
Jack Cunningham
Chip Cunningham
Kurt Bratzler
Bill Cunningham
Don Bird
Donald Gossard
Ron Williams
Greg Williams
Charles Beheler

Thank you.