Blue times 3 and Pink

A new year. Lots of changes.

2018-01-02T00:47:00.002-05:00

I'm shocked I haven't written since 2015. But I figured I needed to update my life a little and maybe someone will find this useful.

Since last we spoke I began homeschooling my 2 youngest children and returned to college myself. It's a hectic life for sure but I'm loving it mostly. There are days, but don't we all have days?

So let's begin with the big one. I'm a college student! I'm finally finishing my Bachelor's Degree (only about 27 years after I began it). I'm seeking a Bachelor's of Science degree in Plant Biology with a specialization in Horticultural Therapy. The goal is to become certified by the American Horticultural Therapy Association (AHTA) and eventually work with adolescents and young adults with special needs. Ideally I will work in or create a vocational program for people who have developmental disorders, down's syndrome, autism and the like.

I identified this passion in myself by becoming a volunteer Master Gardener. Master Gardener organizations exist in every state and most states have them at the county level. We exist to provide gardening knowledge that has been tested through scientific experimentation that is unique to the area we live in. We also provide programming in schools, nursing homes, drug and alcohol rehabilitation programs and veterans hospitals to teach people the skills they need to grow a garden.

One of the teams I have worked with has been part of a class for high school students with special needs. I found my calling. I love going to the class each week and sharing the knowledge I have and giving the students skills that will help them become employable and independent. One of our first students graduated this past year and has been hired by a local gardening center. I was very happy to hear this report. I am beginning my 5th year with this team and I am very excited to see our students graduate and succeed.

Being a college student and parent is difficult. I'm never sure where I should push myself and go for something and where I should hang back and sort of skate along with little challenge. I hope as I chronicle this journey of finishing my undergrad degree and applying to and attending grad school while I have at least one child in college along side me, and maybe two depending on how long it takes, I am able to make the journey a little easier for someone else, even if it's just knowing you are not alone.

Welcome to 2018!

The Storm

2015-02-05T15:34:00.002-05:00

It’s my favorite painting ever. Partly because I lived it, I lived in the Low Country during Hurricane Hugo. I heard the winds tearing down the houses and uprooting acres of Carolina Pines. I remember how the air smelled like Christmas for days in September of 1989. I know the devastating damage of a Hurricane.

I also know how much gets unearthed in a Hurricane. Secret lives get exposed, caskets are exhumed by flooding and often child birth is brought on by the Barometric pressure changes. All potentially initiated by something as simple as a butterfly flapping it’s wings at a certain time and place.

I read somewhere a while ago that many of us compare the backstage of our rehearsals to everyone else’s final production. Mostly because most of us don’t share our dress rehearsals let alone the back stage.

We all wear a mask. I have met very few people in this world who are who they are all the time. And even the most genuine people I think I know are still adding at least a little window dressing from time to time. And it takes a lot of time and a lot of trust to get to the relationships that are heartbreakingly real. I have had a few of those relationships in my life.

Let’s face it the world expects us to hide. We want to hide and we want the people we love to hide. I have a few Facebook friends who are younger, less worldly and every single thing that happens to them becomes this major drama episode on Facebook. We call it drama, and we avoid it. There are days I just wanna post “Honey, bless your sweet little heart, your crazy is showing.” Not because I think she is bothered by showing her crazy, but because I am. It’s uncomfortable when people are honest.

I was raised in a culture that doesn’t show their crazy. Ever. I grew up just outside of Charleston, SC in a little town called Goose Creek. The weather was warm, the gossip was loud and the crazy was buried deep.

One of my favorite songs by Miranda Lambert, “Momma’s Broken Heart” sums it up nicely,

Go and fix your make up, girl, it’s just a break up

Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady

'Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together

Even when you fall apart

But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart

And that’s how it was. I’m not saying everyone in Goose Creek is like that, and I sure hope they aren’t but it’s how I was raised. It’s like I grew up in Vegas, what happened in our house, stayed in our house.

But after I left that house and the South for Yankee land, I learned that secrets don’t go away just because you don’t discuss them. Quite the opposite happens, often times secrets take on a power all their own. And to the world the people who look the most perfect are actually wrecks on the inside.

Maybe we all can be a little more comfortable with the honest ones. And a little more comfortable sharing our faults. One of the most important things I’ve learned (from a real life Jersey Girl none the less) is that sometimes just the right question asked at just the right moment by just the right person can bring all those secrets up to the surface where they can be discussed and examined. And when that’s done, those secrets lose their power. They no longer hold the key to a prison of guilt and shame.

Often the labels we have for ourselves in our heads don’t hold up to the light of day. And a person asking “How many years is enough punishment for that mistake which honestly isn’t yours alone to bear?” Makes a person really think about what forgiveness really means.

Maybe that’s why I like The Storm so much. I’ve lived that picture literally and figuratively. The right person asking me the right question at the right time pulled my secrets out like the Hurricane throwing the ocean over the sea wall. And what we unearthed was forgiveness. Forgiveness sought and forgiveness accepted.

A Tale of Two Fridays

2015-01-17T04:50:00.002-05:00

What an amazing difference a week makes.

Friday a week ago I was in a funk. Nothing was necessarily wrong as a matter of fact many things were right, however I was in a funk.

I was up at weight watchers. By over a pound.

My husband was in a funk about his job.

My dog was limping and whining.

I tried to return something to a store and did not have what I needed. And since I DETEST returning things, having to do it and have it not be successful is doubly painful.

It’s winter. I hate winter.

So there I was in a funk. Such a funk that even though I had a million things on my mind and time to spare I didn’t really write a blog post.

Forward to this Friday. Actually let’s start with Thursday.

This past Thursday I woke up and we did not have heat. We were out of oil. It was cold. I was a little put out but what are you gonna do? I built a fire set up the space heaters and was Thankful for a home. I was also thankful that so many friends of mine offered up their warm homes. And then I was thankful Thursday night when the heat came back on.

I also realized something, my mother in law didn’t reach out and offer her home. Because she doesn’t have to –reach out, I mean. We know. We stayed there after our house fire in 2001 for three long weeks with two noisy little boys and another on the way. Then after hurricane Sandy we showered there only because Brian and I both had to be at work in NJ, otherwise we would have stayed then too. We know we can pack up our necessities, animals and children and show up at their door and be welcomed with open arms. She doesn’t have to call because we know we can always go home.

Then Friday came, and my husband got some really good news about a new job.

I was down at weight watchers.

My dog is healthy.

I was looking forward to company we were having for the weekend and to celebrating Lizzi’s birthday weekend!

The main difference between this week and last I believe is my attitude. Last week I was in a funk. I was feeling overwhelmed by life.

This week, waking up to no heat really makes you take stock of your life and what’s really important. Heat in New Jersey in January is really important. Friends who care enough to invite your family (that’s 6 people and 7 animals) into their home is really important.

Being reminded once again God is fighting the battle with you and sometimes in spite of you is really important.

The other lesson I was reminded of this week is that God did not call us to do this on our own. He called us to be in Community with one another. We are called to come together and help each other. That is how we show God’s love and that is how we ease the suffering of this world.

Are you Pleased?

2015-01-14T10:16:00.000-05:00

There's a song by Chris Sligh entitled, "Are You Pleased?" It's got a haunting melody, and it reminds me of some of the Psalms where the singer is begging God to give His Approval.

I can really relate to this song. Maybe I relate to this song a little too much. I've spent years praying these words (and many others just like them) to God. And I've spent decades feeling not worthy.

Are You pleased with me?

Am I everything You want for me to be?

Am I drawing closer to You?

Is my heart deciding You are all I need?

Oh, are You pleased?

And then on Friday, a Bible verse popped up on my Facebook feed.

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." Mark 1: 9-11

And something clicked in me. I had an epiphany moment. So I pulled out my Bible, and I went through the Gospels and I checked. And I checked again. Surely, I was wrong. But nope.

So as Jesus came up from being baptized, God says, "I am pleased."

But Jesus had not done anything yet.

No miracles -- no disciples -- not even resisting temptation yet.

Nothing.

He just existed.

God was pleased with Jesus before he did anything. And since Jesus came to show us how God feels about us, God is pleased with us BEFORE we do anything.

God is pleased with me just for existing. Just like I can't do anything to make God stop loving me, I don't have to do anything to make Him love me.

God is pleased with me. No matter what I do.

He loves me.

He loves you.

He loves your neighbor whose dog poops on your lawn.

He loves the abused and broken woman.

He loves the entire population of the local prison (and every prison, real or imagined).

He loves everyone.

Just like He loved the demon possessed man.

Just like He loved the Woman at the Well.

Just like He loved Mary and Martha

Just like He loved the woman who grabbed His robe to get healing.

And the man lying by the side of the pool.

And the guy whose friends came on his behalf.

And Zaccheus sitting in the tree.

And all of his disciples.

And Mary Magdelene.

And Judas.

And to this day, He loves us all.

All the people in the world.

He created us ALL.

He has seen life happen to us.

He knows why we are who we are. He has a front row seat to all of our struggles. Every single one. He was there too.

He knows us even better than we know ourselves.

And he still loves us.

So here's my new anthem:

Blessed are you, walking on waves

To find yourself sinking when you look away

Blessed are you, leper, standing alone

The fear on their faces is all that you've known

Blessed are you, lonely widow who gave

Your last shiny coin to Yahweh

Blessed are you with your silver and lies

Kissing the One who's saving your life

Tell Me your story,

show Me your wounds

And I'll show you what Love sees

when Love looks at you

Hand Me the pieces, broken and bruised

And I'll show you what Love sees

when Love sees you

Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/mac-powell/when-love-sees-you-lyrics/#oWrc4XPDp9acyyvC.99

I'll end with a quote I read somewhere.

Your picture is on God's refrigerator. Right next to mine.

World's worst Cook

2015-01-13T21:43:00.000-05:00

I have a confession to make. I cannot cook. My inability to cook is legendary in our home. I can bake. I get compliments every time I make Chocolate Chip Cookies. I’m an excellent baker. However baking & cooking are NOT the same thing.

One time I burnt the chicken for dinner so bad we not only had to have McDonald’s, we had to eat it on the deck because the house was too smoke filled to see.

Luckily for my children and I, my husband is not only a good cook he also truly enjoys cooking. Which worked out well when we both worked. Most nights he would cook dinner while I did the other parenting duties or straightened up around the house. But when I became a stay at home mom and he took over the earning, I needed to step up and take over dinner.

Before my husband and I got married my oldest sons and I ate from fast food drive thru windows a whole lot. It was so bad once I pulled up to the bank teller and she asks how she can help me today and my then 3 year old son yells “Chicken Nuggets and French Fries.”

I may have had a problem.

I am much older and a little wiser now. My youngest daughter sees Santa Claus more often than a drive thru.

Today I was walking with the woman who teaches Ben and Sarah (and who has become part of our family) while Sarah was at horseback riding lessons.

I told her that people were telling me I was inspiring them with my weightloss journey. So she asks “How, are you walking with them? What are you doing?”

I responded with “No they are just reading my blog and finding it helpful.”

“Well that doesn’t work for me I hear about your weight loss journey EVERY SINGLE day and all I’ve done is gain weight.”

She says after a few moments, “But yeah, it’s not you, If you cooked everyday we’d all be skinny.”

“Ouch.”

And then she laughed realizing how that sounded. And finally after I felt like the worst cook in the world for a sufficient amount of time, she stopped laughing and explained.

“No what I meant is you make healthy food. Like we would have a plain baked Chicken breast with brown rice and 5 different vegetables every night for dinner. The kids would only get fruit for dessert, we would never eat out and there would be nothing in the house that was processed, non-organic or even remotely unhealthy. Except your bag of chocolate you keep in your closet that nobody is allowed to touch.”

“However Brian cooks bacon and beef. He uses cream and butter and salt. And he precedes most meals with a cheese course and some kind of decadent but calorie laden dessert masterpiece. You don’t even like ice cream or cheesecake. And when we go out with him geez I can't breathe and I'm sure I'm going to get sick on the drive home.”

Which made me feel like NOT the world’s worst cook, but the world’s meanest mom.

And definitely not the fun parent, but I already knew that part.

Seattle (or how we added maps to family discussions)

2015-01-10T16:21:00.001-05:00

I've been a little deep of late so I thought I'd bring some levity and nostalgia.

Way back when (in what seems like another lifetime)......

In 2005, I was pregnant with Sarah and working for a Pharmaceutical Company. I had to take a business trip to Seattle. I hadn't traveled much so we spent a lot of time preparing Ben who was then almost four years old.

At dinner for the few weeks leading up to the trip we would say, "okay on this date Mommy is going to Seattle for a few days and it'll just be the boys."

We would mark the days on the calendar each day and count off how many until I left and then how many until I returned.

Ben was getting it and seemed to be completely unfazed by my impending Business trip, although I was a basket case being pregnant and leaving my three children and husband to fly across the country. Hormones raging, I was tearful and beside myself. I was so torn, I wanted to quit my job.

Finally the day arrived and I boarded the plane for a rather uneventful flight landing a few hours later in Seattle, Washington. I was through the airport to baggage claim before I was able to get my phone powered on and call home to speak to my babies.

Brian answered on nearly the first ring and was audibly relieved I had landed safely. Then the phone was passed around to each son in turn, finally landing with Ben.

"Hi baby! It's Mommy, how are you?"
"Hi Mommy, I'm good! How's Attle?"
"What?" Thinking I didn't understand him
He repeated, "How's Attle?"

Which is when I figured out all that time he believed I was going to see someone named Attle.

The No Post Post

2015-01-09T12:54:00.001-05:00

I'm not going to write a post today.

I'm having one of those days where my thoughts are better off in my head. But I will share the Lyrics of a song that is really speaking to me today. This song reminds me that no bad mood, bad day, frustration can put me beyond he reach of God. And even when I am faithless He is faithful.

It's called "You Are I Am" by Mercyme.

I've been the one to shake with fear
And wonder if You're even here
I've been the one to doubt Your love
I've told myself You're not enough

I've been the one to try and say
I'll overcome by my own strength
I've been the one to fall apart
And start to question who You are

(Chorus)
You're the one who conquers giants
You're the one who calls out kings
You shut the mouths of lions
You tell the dead to breathe
You're the one who walks through fire
You take the orphan's hand
You are the one Messiah
You are I AM
You are I AM

I've been the one held down in chains
Beneath the weight of all my shame
I've been the one to believe
That where I am You cannot reach

Chorus

The veil is torn
And now I live
With the Spirit inside
The same One
The very same One
Who brought the Son back to life

Hallelujah, He lives in me (X4)

Chorus

Mistakes (fka: Rewards)

2015-01-08T14:14:00.000-05:00

I'm calling a do over.

And where these have been forgiven, sacrifice for sin is no longer necessary.

Hebrews 10:18

I came away from my earlier post thinking people may have gotten the wrong idea. I don’t sacrifice because I’m atoning for something. I sacrifice because I find myself turning to things (food, shopping, etc.) instead of God.

I eat when I’m bored or tired or angry or happy. Not because I’m hungry. I was designed by God to feel hungry and eat to in order to nourish my body. I was not designed by God to eat in order to nourish my soul.

Buying things should be about what I need and {occasionally} gifts for holidays or even the occasional special achievement. Not -- Everything I see -- I want -- I buy. Which it honestly has become.

I did the exercise. The one my Husband asked of me that I refused to do. I added up all my iTunes & Amazon purchases I made in 2014. It was not a pretty number. The dollar amount was ugly and the number of orders was ugly. And those are just the two easiest places to see what and when I purchased. That doesn’t include my infinite trips to Walmart, TJ Maxx and others.

Every one of those trips put me further away from going back to school. And I am frustrated with myself because I want to return to school. I need to return to school.

I was meeting with my Ministry Candidacy Mentor a few weeks back and talking to her about how frustrated I am about not being in school and how people just can’t understand why I’m so frustrated. And she said exactly what I’m feeling. “When God calls you to do something, there is this immediate urgency you need to do it now. There’s this drive that comes from within you and you can’t imagine not doing it.” And I sat there thinking “Yes! That’s it, you know what I’m feeling!” And I left there and returned to life and continued to be frustrated, blaming pretty much everyone in my life but me.

Because I didn’t want to face the ugly truth I finally faced this week. The only thing holding me back is me. I don’t need to stop shopping because shopping is inherently bad. I need to stop shopping because shopping is keeping me from following my call. And not following my call is creating a frustration in my life which is affecting not only my relationship with God but my family, my friends my everything.

And the same goes for my weight loss journey. It’s funny how these two seemingly unconnected journeys are so interwoven. In both of those situations I was using things to replace God. Food and shopping were my comforts.

Retail Therapy? Yes. Please.

Another chocolate chip cookie? Don’t mind if I do.

And the more frustrated I got the more I ate and the more I shopped until there was barely time for anything else. I wasn’t spending time with God, nope too busy having lunch or dinner out. I wasn’t reading my Bible, nope I need to download that new song. And then I couldn’t return to college, and that was frustrating so I might as well just go shop and eat. There now I’ll feel better.

But as I start this new year and I look at those pictures from the post earlier this week I don’t feel better. I cannot redo 2014, but this year, this is a new one. I haven’t messed it up yet! We, as a family, decided no “frivolous” spending. And so far this year we haven’t done a lot of things. But one thing we did do is sit down and budget everything. Right down to the kid’s birthday parties/gifts. And if I’m able to stick to it, school in the Fall should be no problem at all.

And even more importantly it will improve my relationship with God and the person God gave me to walk through this life with. You see my husband is a planner. He needs to know what to expect. And financially I was killing him, he was reviewing the bank accounts and credit cards regularly finding surprise purchases everywhere. He can’t plan financially around that. And every single time he tried to discuss it I would shut him down by pointing out his own spending. Because for a long time he spent and I spent and we didn’t discuss it. Because we were a two-income family and we could afford it. But we aren’t that anymore. And I can’t keep acting like we are.

So instead of viewing this like some kind of punishment, I’ve realized it’s more of a blessing.

The post below this is crap. Sure there are good points, I guess but it's not what I really wanted to say.

~~There are times in my life that I draw close to God. I have this open dialogue and I can sense His guidance in my decisions. Then there’s these other times.~~

The other times are divided into 2 categories. The first is separateness from God. It’s my own doing, I create a wall I run and hide not unlike Adam and Eve after eating that fruit (funny how eating keeps coming up). So I create my own aloneness. Those times dark and scary. The second category of other times is where I’m talking to God pretty much all the time, which means I’m not really listening at all. It’s in those times I often substitute my desires, my wants, my needs for the plans God has for me.

That second category happens more frequently than I’d like to admit. I’m wandering in darkness I just don’t see it because I’m focused on the flashlight beam in the mirror. Yes, usually instead of looking to God for answers I’m looking to me. And the answers I find I actually believe are coming from God. Until I finally see my face in mirror and realize I was wrong. I just recently found myself looking in the mirror, yet again.

I’ve been struggling with another journey of late, my Call into Ministry. In order to follow where I feel I’m being led, I have to go back to school. And from a financial perspective that’s not really feasible right now. Either we’ve got to reduce our out flow or increase our income.

I like to shop. A whole really lot. New stuff is awesome. When I’ve been successful in my weight loss journey I reward my sacrifice with shopping. Usually right after a good weigh in, I’d go straight to Marshall’s or TJ Maxx and buy me a little something to reward my good behavior. But I didn’t stop there.

My husband recently asked me to give him an accounting of how much stuff (books, movies, music & apps) we’ve bought on iTunes in 2014. And I resented him for pointing out my failures. Getting an accounting of an iTunes account is not an easy task. You have to page through 10 days of purchases at a time and add them up. You cannot print this accounting. You cannot cut and paste. And then I pointed out that he seemed to be focused only on my failures. How about if we pulled out the Amex statements and looked a little closer at what he spent where. There was no further mention of the iTunes expenditures.

So quitting shopping? Been there, done that once for Lent and don’t have the t-shirt (because I couldn’t buy it). It was hard. Really hard. For 42 days I bought nothing other than food and household needs. But during Lent I can start my seeds, and plant plants and nurture them and watch them grow and be distracted from my distractions. But to quit shopping altogether? Surely God is not calling for THAT kind of sacrifice?

So I immediately was drawn to the other option, increase the income. I could simply go back to work. As I read a book the other day, I felt strongly that God was blessing my return to my former Profession. Here I was convinced I had found my answer. And I was all smug talking about how I heard God tell me to move forward. That going back to work thing was what I should do.

Except. I really didn’t want to. I left that Career partly because I hated it. And partly because I didn’t believe that what I was doing truly helped people. And partly to be home with my children and watch them learn everyday in my dining room turned classroom. And partly to do all the volunteer things that I do -- the ones where I know I help people. And a whole really lot because God told me to.

And so I prayed that prayer the one nobody really wants to pray, the prayer of complete surrender. That prayer that Mary prayed in Luke 1:38 “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me as you have said”. And the prayer Jesus prayed just before he paid the price for all of us, “ Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) My prayer wasn’t as eloquent or as important, but it was complete surrender, “God if this is your will Let it be.” And after four business days I had no good leads from the headhunters. Even one I reached out to and know personally hasn’t gotten back to me. And so I think today I realized me going back to work is not God’s will.

Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” Luke 9:23

Which could only mean God wants me to stop shopping. My reward will be the ability to go further with God. I wish I could say I look forward to this. I want to be able to say I am eager to do this. I feel like I’m supposed to be happy here. But I’m not. I am unhappy and looking for loopholes and trying to justify how I can spend just a little money here and there. I can’t say I’ll be perfect, and I know it won’t be painless, but I am convinced when I look back on this journey I will learn something. I will grow and I will be chiseled. More rubble will be left on the workshop floor.

Shocking

2015-01-07T13:01:00.001-05:00

That picture yesterday bothered me. Technically both of them did. Actually bothered is not a strong enough word. Disturbed is much more fitting. It was painful to post them. It is painful to look at them.

The first picture disturbed me because I could not believe I not only allowed myself to put so much weight on but that I carried it for so long. I was tired all.the.time. I didn’t want to do anything. I felt unattractive. I was ashamed to be photographed. I don’t wonder why I was so unhappy with myself. I just wonder why it took me so long to admit I needed to change.

The second picture bothered me because I know I can’t wear the dress in that picture. As a matter of fact I don’t even own the dress anymore. The dress ripped when I last tried to put it on. That was 4 months ago and 8 pounds less than I was on January 2, 2015. And that was not a wake up call for me. That did not move me back to relying on God. That did not cause me to realize I can’t do this alone.

I’m reading a few books by Lysa Terkeurst Made to Crave and the companion Made to Crave Devotional: 60 Days to Craving God, Not Food. In addition I’m reading Unglued: Making Wise Choices in the Midst of Raw Emotions. Each day I find some nugget of truth, some wisdom I needed. Ironically yesterday in Unglued, I found a truth I’m applying to my weight loss journey, but it’s so much more.

“Oh God, chisel me I don’t want to be locked in my hard places forever. I want to be free. I want to be all that you have in mind for me to be.” (Unglued, 36) This quote and the accompanying story had me visualizing how God is described in the Bible. We often portray God as a potter molding the clay. Molding implies a gentle, soothing almost painless process. The process is silent and reverent except for a gentle whirring of the wheel. God’s hands hold the clay and with water gently washing over us we are formed into what the potter sees.

The visualization I got from the chisel quote was hard and harsh. It was loud and painful. I could hear the clink of the hammer striking the chisel. I became the rock and added my moaning and crying out to the cacophony of noise in the workshop. But just like the sculptor chiseling at the rock, God’s chiseling creates works of art.

The parts that are unnecessary are left a pile of rubble on the workshop floor. While the beauty within rock, at one time seen only by the sculptor, becomes apparent to even the most casual observer with each painful, shocking, noisy bang of the hammer.

“Is not my word like fire,” declares the Lord, “and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?” –Jeremiah 23:29

Once a sculpture is finished, the outside world should no longer see the rock. Yes, the veins and bits contained in the rock are still visible, made more beautiful but the sculptor’s hand, but the appreciator doesn’t say “What a beautiful rock.” They say “What a beautiful Sculpture, the Sculptor has made.” And so I move forward hoping that in my journey people see less of me and more of the creation the Creator has made.

Awakenings

2015-01-06T14:22:00.000-05:00

I’m on a journey.

Aren’t we all?

I like to look back at moments and think “Yes, that’s where my journey began” but often times it’s not. It’s just where a leg of my journey began. Because everyone’s journey begins the moment they breathe the air of life. At birth that first gulping breath of air begins the journey. Sometimes that journey is a thousand steps in the wrong direction and then you have to take a thousand steps back to get back where you started. But those two thousand steps hold a gift. It’s invaluable. It is knowledge and wisdom.

In December of 2012 I began a weight loss journey. I decided I needed to take some weight off before I reached a point where it was truly affecting my health. Just like my last major health journey when I quit smoking, I turned the battle over to God. I prayed and I told him I couldn’t. I couldn’t do this on my own. I wasn’t strong enough.

So God helped me, and through his strength alone I was able to follow the Weight Watchers program and lose 48.6 pounds in 10 months. That’s a whole lot really fast. I dropped 5 clothing sizes so fast I couldn’t even keep up. I was exercising following the Points Plus Program and eating right. I felt good. I was invincible. I could totally do this.

Then, I lost sight of the fundamental truth in my success. I forgot the one mantra I knew going into the fight. The mantra I said over and over for months after I quit smoking. The one prayer that got me through, “God I need you. I can’t do this alone.” I wasn’t invincible. I wasn’t strong. I couldn’t do THIS alone. I stopped losing weight.

From October 2013 to April 2014 I gained and lost the same 8 pounds time and again. Then I added a few more to that, and then ten more. And then I had to go buy clothes in those in between sizes that I had skimmed past before. And that was humiliating. And yet I kept going up and on January 2, 2015 I had gained back 26 of those pounds I had lost before. I felt defeated. I felt weak. I just didn’t know what to do. If this program can’t work for me, how can I do this?

And then I remembered, it’s not the program, it’s not me. I am weak. And as Paul so eloquently states, when I am weak I must admit I need help and God is strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

⁹ But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. ¹⁰That is why for Christ’s sake I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

God, the Creator cannot be defeated. Nothing can defeat him. And only when I am separate from him, only when I choose to live apart can I be defeated. And more often than not, I am defeated by the person I hold closest, me. My actions defeat me. My behaviors defeat me. I tell myself I’m good, I’m strong, I’m victorious, but I am not. I am weak. I am selfish. I am defeated. When I choose to rely on my own strength. When I chose to fight my own fights. When I believe “I’ve got this.” I don’t. God does.

So here's where I've been. Now onto where God is taking me.

Answering the Call Part 3

2013-07-16T07:19:00.001-04:00

It's taken me over a month to finally write this post. That's not entirely true. I wrote this post months ago as it was happening, it's taken me months to share it.

I'm a long way from that day in 1986. I'm also a long distance from the place I grew up and as far as the East is to the West from the beliefs of my Childhood. The God I surrendered to in my teenaged years became in my mind a god sitting on his throne waiting to condemn me for all my mistakes. I became afraid of Him. I could hide in Jesus, so I did. I related to Jesus and called him friend, but he was separate and distinct from God. I needed him to be in order to hold on to any faith at all.

The Middle part of my story spans decades. It started even before Part 1 and it continues. The Middle part of my story is ignoring God. And not ignoring God. Some days are better than others. Some days are easier than others.

I’m there again, I’m in a different pew, in a different part of the country, some 25 years later, but I hear the calling again. There is no ambiguity in His request. I’m being called to once again “Come, Follow Me.”. And yet I sit. I sit in this pew as the other women are leaving filing out one by one after their own silent meditation, after they have brought their burdens to the cross I continue to sit……

The Women and I are on a Walk to Emmaus. I’ve come to the end of a long exhausting day. It began quite unexpectedly.....

I stood there waiting to be called. The Elizabeth table had been called and filled. Then the Martha table was also called and filled. And I stand there, “Hmmmmm God, whatcha doin here?” I think. “My name is Martha Elisabeth. You do remember that, right? Okay so you’re sticking with the Ruth theme, alright.” But then the Ruth table is called and filled and there I stand.

“Mary or Esther? Really? I’m reduced to Mary or Esther?” My name is finally called, I’m at the Mary table. Mary, perhaps my least favorite woman mentioned in the Bible. I sit there all day thinking, I don’t feel like a Mary.

When I got back to my room that night I pulled out my Bible and read my Mary bible stories. All the Marys. And for the ones mentioned in the New testament, there’s a common thread. The common thread weaving them altogether is that they all submitted to God’s will. They all gave to God what was God’s – Themselves. They all said to God, “Not my will but thine.”

Ouch. Really God? You’re going to go there, just right off the bat, huh? Now? And that began the active conflict. Me and my will on one side, God and His on the other.

But that moment, and for the next 18 hours I was in active combat. I don’t lay down my will easily. I will do what I want to do damn the consequences. I began fighting with God in every thought, deed and action actively passively and constantly for the next 18 hours I refused God. I had every excuse in the book. Every thing you can think of I thought of. And I told God again and again, “Nope not me, pick someone else.”

But I’d already been fighting God for the past 18 months I had been passively fighting God’s will for my life. I wasn’t actively confronting Him, I just was telling Him, I can’t hear you right now, I’m too busy. I’ve got kids that need to go to their activities, I’ve got a husband who really can’t deal with this right now, I’ve got responsibilities and expectations that I must fulfill. I couldn’t even say the question he was asking out loud.

God was calling, had been calling and would keep calling me to ministry. Full on Ordained Ministry. And I was scared lifeless. I was afraid of failing. I was afraid I was too old. I was afraid I was too broken. I was afraid I was too wrong. But God kept calling me and I steadfastly refused. And now I sat at the table of Mary and God was asking for my own submission. Could I?

…. I continued to sit there in that pew and I was transported back to my childhood. The whole weekend had transported me to another place in time.

One of my first encounters on my Walk was the room I was assigned. Before even entering the room, I noticed the woman in the room next to mine had my maiden name that gave me pause. But when I went in my room, I saw it. The lampshade I had on my lamp when I was a little girl. Who but God could do this?

That’s the moment I knew God wanted me there. I needed to have my Walk. I needed a new encounter with God. God was calling me to the faith I had as a child. But he wasn’t calling me backward he was calling me forward.

But still I sat. I had the sweaty palms and freezing hands. My heart was racing, I’m shivering again, I know it’s time. This time however it’s a walk to the back I need to make. A walk to speak with the Spiritual Advisers. Not a walk to the front, but before I can make that walk I have to surrender. I have to submit my will again. I have to give up everything again. So I’m playing “Let’s make a deal” again. But again God doesn’t want deals He wants me. All of me. He wants my heart, my soul and my mind. So I start to throw out my excuses. I’m not minister material. Surely he was aiming for the pious lady on either side of me and hit me by mistake. I’m no pastor. I use four letter words. Regularly. In front of my children. I mean really who’s going to look to me for guidance? Come on God, Pastors don’t say those words.

I’ve got my best friend’s words bouncing around in my head “You’ll love Seminary” and “God doesn’t care what you’re undergrad is in, just finish it already.” (My best friend IS a Pastor she might know a thing or two about these things) Meanwhile, I’m thinking “Brian is going to kill me.” And I’m working through the conversation in my head.

Him: “So let me get this straight, you left a six-figure salary job. And now you’re telling me you want to be a Pastor? Are you trying to kill me? You want to spend 80K to never make that again? Really, no, Elisabeth, seriously?” (He only calls me Elisabeth at certain times -- this conversation would definitely be one of those times)

And all of that is bouncing around in my head and I’m continuing to throw out excuses. “But God, I can’t sing. Pastors have to be able to sing. Oh and God, I can’t move my family. They love their home. And we need to be where Brian can get to work easily. I can’t just uproot us.” And for now that’s enough.

I continue to sit there. I continue to think about getting up and walking to the back and talking to one of the Pastors in the back many of whom have children and are Moms. I can hear Jesus calling me again. I stand up, and my heart is in my throat and my knees are wobbly and I look back but I just can’t. I walk out of the chapel. I pause on the stairs up to my room and I can still hear Jesus calling and I think I could still go back in and speak to one of them. But I know once I say it out loud, there’s no going back. Once I say it, once I talk to someone about it, I’m committed.

And I’m back in my room and I’m ignoring God just like when I was a child.

Answering the Call Part 2

2013-06-08T08:43:00.001-04:00

This is definitely The middle of my story I originally wrote this in December, 2011. To read the beginning, go to Answering The Call Part 1 But this is a part of the weekend that changed my life. This weekend began the struggle for my will. God was asking me for submission and I was refusing. Some of you have read this one before. But Part 3 is proving more difficult to write than I originally believed.

On a recent Saturday I discovered, our washing machine was broken. In a household with six people, this is the equivalent of DEFCON 4.

With a load of my daughter's clothes in it this upped the ante to DEFCON 3.

Editorial Side Note:Anal retentive doesn't even come close to describing how I feel about my daughter's clothing. I don't think OCD does it justice either. Let's just say anyone who knows me absolutely knows how I feel about my daughters clothing. I wash her things on cold, everything gets a Shout Color catcher, every stain is treated using a multistage process, although she is one of 6 people who reside in our home her clothes are washed alone, nothing else is allowed in the load. My teenaged boys do most of the family's laundry, but they do not usually touchhers. I do the laundry for the Princess. I spend many hours washing and hanging her clothes, as they do not enter the dryer either, at least not while wet. After they are fully dry I place them in the dryer to fluff and soften them. And anyone who has received either through purchase or gift the hand me downs of the princess knows how these clothes have been babied. In many cases they still look brand new, partly because she has so many she rarely wears something more than 3 times.

So I had to take her soaking wet clothes to the Laundromat and rewash them because the teen responsible for laundry had left them for three days in a broken washer. We have now reached DEFCON 1, nuclear war is imminent.

Before Saturday I'd rather have had root canals than ever go to the Laundromat. But Saturday was the most humbling, frustrating, rewarding, beautiful trip ever. Even getting TO the Laundromat with all my supplies and the 5 rolls of quarters we expected it would take to wash and dry the family's laundry was an epic adventure. But after buying new detergent, stain fighters, fabric softener, and dryer sheets, at the A&P because I left mine at home. And after dropping off the dry cleaning so I would not miss them and be naked later in the week. And stopping at the bank to get the quarters, I finally arrived at the Laundromat.

Then I had to drag --because carrying was not an option-- a basket of dripping wet clothes that weighed probably 85 pounds into the laundromat. This Rubbermaid storage bin that passes for a laundry basket in our home, was about three quarters full of materials including ruffles, taffeta, silk, and corduroy in a rainbow of the little girl colors, pink, white, red, navy, brown and purple. My cross to bear was a bin of dripping wet Gymboree soup. It was a heavy cross, a cross I eagerly fashioned, I purchased every stitch in that bin. I had created the clothes monster that loves every piece of clothing in that bin and I had created an environment in my own home where everyone was afraid to touch her clothing. I thought for sure I was going to die dragging that bin. But I did not, some where I found the strength to haul this unbearable load into a building that can only be described as ewwwww yucky. The floors were dirty, some of the machines were held together with duct tape, the tiles were chipped and broken, and the walls had a film on them that was reminiscent of a New Jersey diner in the 80's. In short no thinking person would assume anything would come to this place to achieve a state of cleanliness. But I was committed at this point, the next nearest Laundromat was half an hour away and I was short on time. So I loaded my dripping wet laundry into the first row of washers, they looked reasonably young, so there was that. They were stainless steel contraptions with chrome and gleaming glass fronts. They looked out of place in this otherwise sad dank dark little room.

Additional Editor’s Note:I'll admit I'm not the most observant of people. My husband calls me (and a couple of my children who are most like me) oblivious. It fits. When I assume something, I rarely verify. If I've always done something one way I assume I'll always do it that way. I'm very much a creature of habit. This causes me to literally trip and fall over things with embarrassing frequency.

All my laundry was loaded in the machines; I had treated my stains, poured in my detergent and added my fabric softener. Break out the quarters, I’m on a roll. Wait a minute, there's a card slot where the quarter slot should be. Huh?Then the realization dawned upon me slowly like the sun sinking in the sky over the ocean late on a summer evening. The machines don't take quarters. Then I finally read the sign, a white sign with green lettering that was the size of a football field hanging on the wall. Please buy a card the washers and dryers no longer operate on quarters. Huh? When did that happen and why didn’t I get the memo? So I trek to the back of the store still holding my 5 rolls of quarters thinking, “oh God how long will it take to put $50 of Quarters into a slot to buy a card?” I arrive at the back of store stand there looking at the card dispensing machine and see no slot for quarters I go out to my car to get my wallet to use my Visa check card, only the make the long embarrassing trek back to the back of the store and wait, there's no Visa swipey thing either. (Yes, the word oblivious DOES indeed fit me, sometimes.)

You have to have cash. So I trek over to the nearest bank, take out another $60 from the ATM, 3 $20 bills. And I trek back to what I’m now calling in my mind the hell hole. Third time's a charm, right? All the way down that shameful path to the card dispensing machine at the back of the store. Press the button to buy a card, machine says, enter a $10 bill. Huh? Look Up and there on the second football field size sign it says, machine takes fives, tens and twenties but the card must be purchased with a $10 bill. I admit I'm beyond mad by now. So I walked in with $50 in quarters to do my laundry and my money was completely useless. I had cards in my wallet out the wazoo, thousands of dollars literally at my disposal not to mention $50 in quarters and my money was useless there.

I began pleading for a good Samaritan to help me. I have now officially blown 35 minutes on this adventure and I'm playing beat the clock. "Does anyone have 2 tens for a twenty?" I call out. A God send of a woman comes out of the blur of nameless faceless people who are occupying this hovel with me. “Here,” she says, “I bet we do.” She then turns to her children and asks them to locate the money. Finally I have the required cash in hand. I go through the steps on the machine and get my card. I decided to load the card up to the max, I figured I'd pass it on to IHN (Interfaith Hospitality Network) when I was done using it.

It was like finding the arc of the covenant, angels literally sang as I walked from the card machine back up to my waiting washers. So I proceeded to do my laundry. The lady with two tens and I struck up a conversation about iPads and how horrible this Laundromat is. As she's standing there with her daughter in their matching sweaters from Hanna Andersson I feel comfortable talking to her. She's like me. She looks like me, she dresses like me, she has a broken washer like me and four kids like me. She tells me not to waste my money in the dryers, the doors fly open mid cycle and the clothes tumble out onto the aforementioned dirty floor. Her nine year old daughter was completely grossed out by the thought of her clothes touching this floor and was adamantly insisting she wouldn’t wear them. So we talked about the Laundromat and what we were supposed to do with these cards when were done. I said I was giving mine to IHN. She loved that idea. And also suggested she was going to write a letter to the newspaper about the condition of the Laundromat. I thought that was a good idea. We were perfectly happy to help the people caught in this place, it made us feel good so long as everyone knew we didn't belong here.

Shortly after that she left and I finished my wash. Because of time and her advice I chose to bring it home to dry. Now I had $20 left on this stupid card that cost me three dollars to buy in the first place.

I put my clothes in the car and came back in to return the wheelie cart when I saw her. She was an older woman, looked to be in her sixties. Life had really beaten her up, if you know what I mean. The worry lines were carved so deeply in her face I wondered if she had ever once in her life laughed. I don't know what brought her there, how she got to her age and looked like she was just waiting to die. Her hair was mostly gray and she just looked like she could barely muster enough energy to take the next step, let alone lug laundry back into her car. I never did see her car; maybe she wasn't even lucky enough to have one. She sat in the chair by the window on those hard plastic chairs where four or five are attached to a steel beam. It’s the type of chair that you would think of when you picture an emergency room or waiting area of a police station. Places I got the feeling she'd frequented sometime in her life. I had seen her with a man about her age earlier when she was putting her wash in the machines. He was wearing a Sweatshirt with the Ronald McDonald House Logo on it.

Unlike some of the others who were regulars she didn't have a book or crosswords or even a cell phone to keep her busy, I didn't see anything in her hands except one of those ridiculous $3 cards. She sat there alone, staring at the floor. I returned the cart to the corner, walking in front of her, careful not to disturb her, and she didn't move, didn't even look up. As I crossed back in front of her I looked down and without a moment's hesitation I knew what I was supposed to do with that card. I paused and leaned in to her, I said "Do you come here often?" Immediately I felt like the stupidest person in the world. It was the most inane thing anyone has ever said to someone. This was a Laundromat not a singles bar and I was a woman giving away $23 not some cheesy guy at last call. But she looked up with sadness so deep in her eyes it was now an air of resigned acceptance. Whatever hand life had dealt her she was going to play it out.

She quietly responded, "Yes." with a look of confusion on her face. I replied, "Here please take my card, I won't need it again and it's got about $20 on it. Please enjoy." Again I'm feeling stupid, who enjoys doing laundry? She says "thank you" even more quietly than she said "yes" and I handed it to her and walked out of the Laundromat. She didn't show big gratitude, but I didn't need that. It felt good. I imagined that no matter how much she did or did not need that $20 in laundry money, she definitely needed it more than me.

I got out to the parking lot in my car and started to back out of the space. I looked up and she was trying to come out of the door of the laundromat. She stopped, we made eye contact and she mouthed the unmistakable words, "Thank you and Merry Christmas." I waved and smiled and continued on my day with a smile literally in my heart.

Editor's note: As I read this some 18 months after writing it, I've often thought about the lady from the laundromat. I wonder how she is and where she is. I wonder if she is happy and I hope for her it was just a bad month. But I mostly wish I had taken some time that day to get to know her, to understand her true needs and see if I could help. I've been back to the laundromat a few times but I've never seen her again. I am happy to report that I no longer baby my daughter's clothes. At least not with the obsessive nature I used to.

Answering the Call Part 1

2013-06-04T09:56:00.002-04:00

Note: This is the first in a series.

I grew up in a Southern Baptist Church, with a family that had been Southern Baptist for generations. My grandmother used to say, “You are Southern Baptist born, Southern Baptist bred and when you die you’ll be Southern Baptist Dead.” Yes, this was serious stuff. One did not just change their religion in our family.

So for the first 20-some odd years of my life, with very few exceptions, I attended a Southern Baptist Church. Since I grew up in the Bible Belt, they were plentiful. At the end of the Service we had the altar call. This was the time set aside in the service for a song of Invitation like “Softly and Tenderly” where you could come up to the front and pray with the Preacher or some delegate and say the sinner’s prayer and get saved and then make plans for Baptism. While the song is playing, the Preacher continues at the front to urge you to invite Jesus into your heart and come up and make a public profession of faith. This was so scary to me. But he’s repeating “Come, leave your burdens at the cross.” “Jesus is calling you today, will you answer the call?”

I remember being a teenager and standing there in the pew singing, my heart in my throat. My palms are sweaty but my hands are freezing cold. He’s calling (Jesus , not the Preacher) “Come, Come Lisa and Follow Me.” And I stood there frozen in Time. It’s just me, Jesus and the Preacher. And I would say to myself, “Am I going up there this week?” The walk to the front looks like the longest walk of all. And I stood there half singing this song I knew by heart and I’m wondering “is this the week I go down front?” And I’m standing there bargaining with God – because that’s what we do. “If I do this, then you’ll do that – Right God?” But God doesn’t want deals. He wants faith and trust. No bargains.

And I come back to the service and the last verse is playing and I’m standing there. And my knees start wobbling and my hands are shaking and I’m thinking this is it, this is the week I’m going to take the Longest walk down to the front and say yes to God. And just as I almost get the courage to step out into the aisle to answer Jesus calling softly and tenderly, and surrender my life and my will to Him. I realize the last verse is playing I do the math in my head, calculating how long the process takes and I know if I go down this week I’ll cause service to run long and then the Methodists across town will get out before the Baptists and then there will be a line at the restaurant and the whole church will be angry with me having to wait for lunch. And so I decide, not today. Not this week. Maybe next time.

When the next week comes I go through the same thing all over again to “Just As I am” this time. I get the sweaty palms, heart palpitations, freezing hands. Same thoughts, same bargaining, same everything. Right down to not making the walk. And again and again. But one Sunday, the right Sunday, the one Sunday God knew I was going to walk down, that Sunday I do it. This time I walk to the front and surrender my life to God. And the feeling of surrender is like no other. My heart is soaring with the Angels. I’m on top of the world. And the view is beautiful. I am a new creation and like a butterfly coming out of a chrysalis I am ready to flutter from flower to flower spreading the nectar of the Good News to help the flowers grow. And I can feel God there with me all the time and I’m not alone anymore.

Ah the beauty of young love. There’s nothing like it. And then I return to the world and it begins to wane. My attention goes to other things. And I relegate God to church. And I backslide and slip and the next thing I know I feel much more like a sinner than a saved one and I don’t feel God with me anymore and I don’t make time for my first love and I forget the feeling. And I tell God no time and again.

I did it all. Walked the walk to the front, Publicly professed my very private faith. Came up from the water. And then slowly slinked away from God. His light was harsh and it showed me my imperfections, highlighted them, even. And I was sure I wasn’t worthy of his love. And I had made a terrible mistake.

And then I sinned, and sinned and sinned again. I was told I was a horrible person by people who knew me and people who didn’t know me and I began to believe them. I began to really believe God could not, would not ever love me.

And then I went on about life and I could talk a really good talk about God and the Bible and I could slay people in their sin and tell them all the things they were doing wrong. And I spoke from my own guilt and shame, which was separating me from God.

But even in those dark decades, I still had moments where I would do what God asked. And I would feel electric and so alive. I would be on top of the world again. And then the guilt and shame would set in again and I’d go back into hiding.

And then I heard the still small voice. He was calling to me again. He was calling me to let go of the guilt and shame. He was calling me to trust in him. He was calling me to live in his love and his joy. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t find my way out. There was too much. Too many things I had done. I was useless. I was broken.

Then he sent me one of his Angels in the form of a Pastor. She was the most beautiful example of Jesus I had ever seen. I could literally see Jesus in her eyes. And I trusted her. And I shared my deep, dark secrets with her. And I cried. And she cried. And God was there. And he told me I was forgiven, He told me I was loved, He told me he had been there with me the whole time, and He loved me still.

And then He told me something I wasn’t ready to believe and so I ran again. I didn’t run far, and I didn’t hide well and even though I was telling Him “No.” firmly and forcefully he continued to love me. He continued to guide me and protect me. And even though I couldn't even say it outloud, I knew one day I'd say "Yes" to God again.

The Broken Stones

2013-05-29T12:26:00.000-04:00

Often in my garden I find myself surprised by discoveries. Whether I’ve discovered tiny little seedlings breaking through the soil where I planted seeds, fruit underneath a flower I smelled the day before or a new way to look at God, I’m always in awe. This weekend I was finishing construction and filling of my new raised beds and I decided to move the stepping-stones the kids had made my husband many years ago and put them inside the garden. They’ve moved more than most stones do. They spent a few years on the front porch, then finally made it to the back yard and for the last year or so they were the path leading up to the greenhouse entrance.

Our Children grew up and the stones got damaged. The one made by Boo was the shape of a butterfly and a piece broke off the bottom of the wing. The square one made by Blonde boy somehow ended up in 5 pieces. And despite digging all around the path leading to my greenhouse, I was not able to find the 5^th piece. The round one made by the Princess has a few stones missing. As I placed them in the ground over the weekend I realized they were a symbol of the relationship the children had with their father at this moment in time.

The blonde boy is seventeen and searching for his wings to fly away. At this time his relationship with his father is contentious, but still visible. There are cracks and fissures and even a large chunk is missing but it’s still there. The stone is still a stone. The love is still there even if it’s hard to see even hard to look at some times. You see in our home, I am respected above all. My husband, like his father before him, taught our children that I am the mother, I love them more than they can ever know and they will always respect me for that. So the anger and angst of growing up especially from the boys has always been aimed at their father. I’m the Mother who is never blamed for punishment.

Boo made the Butterfly, it has the bottom part of the wing broken off. There’s been some bumps and bruises along the way, but Boo is just now reaching the stage where he will begin to pull away from us. He will be twelve next month. He’s been a pretty good child –not perfect by any stretch of the definition-- but good. And he is entering the teen years, and beginning to assert his independence and identify more with the blonde boy. (The blonde boys teenage years have been very challenging!) Which also makes him a lot like his father. Who also liked to push the boundaries as a teenager and young adult.

The Princess made a circle. She was not quite two when we did this, so mostly I made a circle. Her stone is missing a few stones here and there but for the most part it’s still in one piece. And you can see the “I Love Daddy” pretty clearly in the middle. She is only eight years old. She still believes her Daddy is the greatest man in the world. (I think he is too, but that’s another post) She still says she’s going to college online so she never has to leave our house. (Oh yeah she’s gonna break his heart one day.)

But beyond the symbolism that is their relationship with their father, I also saw an over arching symbolism in our relationship with our Heavenly Father. When we are young Christians we believe our God is the most amazing being ever. He will help us overcome anything and standing on His shoulders we are undefeatable! We are victorious. We are perfect new creations.

Then as time goes by, we pray and don’t get our prayers answered the way we want them to be. We begin to doubt our God. We think maybe He isn’t really all he’s cracked up to be, and this being a Christian thing is pretty hard. Making good choices, trying to be like Jesus, it isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s a tough road to hoe to be in the world but not of it.

Then a little later on we’ve really fallen. We are so broken we can’t even find all the pieces to our stones anymore. That higher rock that we thought would protect us and provide shelter has become anchor tying us down with responsibility and guilt. To be the hands and feet. To see a need --so many needs in this world we can’t fix can be overwhelming and can make us all just want to hide out in our churches with our broken hearts and missing pieces. But we don’t speak of those broken hearts and missing pieces. People might think we aren’t faithful if we aren’t blessed.

But sometimes God lets us break, so He can put us back together and if we do have missing pieces then they were not supposed to be part of us to begin with. They were extra pieces --baggage if you will-- that we gathered on our own along the way and God needs us to put that down. And God really needs us all to put down the glue and paint we use to cover our broken hearts and the paper mache we have fashioned to cover our missing pieces. God needs us to expose our broken hearts and missing pieces because that’s the only way to help our church and our world.

When Jesus walked among us He didn't tell his disciples they must be perfect, he did not go into the synagogues & temples and pick the most religious, the most righteous. And most of the really good stories from the Bible involve really shady characters and really bad choices. No God doesn't call saints to lead He calls sinners to become Leaders and then he equips those willing to follow.

If you are too busy playing perfect, who’s going to share their imperfections with you? and even if someone is brave enough to share their vulnerabilities, how can you hear them through your mask?

The Midnight Dance

2012-02-03T09:41:00.002-05:00

A distant thump in the night
a faint rustling;
a slow creaking
a figure floats slowly into view
silhouetted by the light of the moon
a ghostly appearance in
long flowing garments

A tap at the mountain
an invitation to dance;
the mountain twitches
Louder than words
the mountain moves
shifting, creating the valley;
the coverings are shed and thrown in
she scales the mountain
over the pinnacle
she comes to rest in the valley
and there sleeps peacefully.

MEB
2-3-2012

I am right and I am wrong and It really doesn't matter.

2011-12-08T23:51:00.000-05:00

Most people who read my blog have some concept of God. Most of you my followers also share a belief system with me. Most of you know I have a heart for God.

And yet before somehow I thought I did but I didn't. I thought I was saved and I was. Just as you are. But we are not saved by works. Nothing we can ever do or say can save us.

My daughter who is six said to me the one thing every God loving parent wants to hear, "I want Jesus to come live in my heart, too Mommy." And I was too busy and too wrapped up in all the stuff of this world that I supposedly have to do that I said to her, "You will baby, some day when you're older. You aren't ready yet." What????? She was ready and whether I took the time to be part of it or not he's there. Because I don't decide when Jesus comes to live in my child's heart no matter how much I want to control her and everything she thinks and says and does.

She knew that moment that Jesus had taken up his rightful place in her heart. In HIS home. He is there with her now and every moment since. And she knew exactly what was happening and she could not get my attention. And I lost the moment. I lost the chance to watch my daughter begin her walk of faith. I can regret that, but really, why? Is it more important to see it the first moment or the 500 millionth one? Because in this beautiful journey it is the every moment every day I will watch her keep her child like faith.

She will never lose the faith she has as a child because I will build it up, shore it up, fight for it, and most of all model it for her day in and day out until she one day moves onto her own life with a strong faith that nobody and nothing can ever shake.

And I thank God for never giving up on me. I think God for giving me the sight he gives to the blind every day. And I love him with my whole heart.

Danger! Parental Advisory! Learn from my mistakes!

2011-09-21T14:08:00.000-04:00

I learned this morning that the awful satanic 80's hairbands that were supposed to lead us all to jump of a cliff en masse have this instant allure to children. I have learned that while our parents were yelling at us to turn it down and never ever ever play it backwards we were absolutely powerless. We had no choice, they hooked us, 80's hairbands may be the most potent drug known to man. One snippet of a song and you're toast. And they are inter generational too! Please read carefully my tale of woe and never make the mistake I did.

I've spent years nay decades protecting my precious little gifts from the evils of heavy metal music. Their world has been filled with positive uplifting music that is "safe for the whole family" (also known as Contemporary Christian Music) that is after they graduated from The Wiggles and Disney Princesses. I've tuned the radio in my car to only one station. I've reviewed and approved every song on their iTunes playlists. In short I've done everything possible to shield them from the evils of Pop Culture. (Okay not everything, my 6 year old's first compound word was Sponge Bob --which I believed was harmless fun until last week) So, I've been a bit remiss in the TV category, but definitely not in music choices. Until Monday 9/19 at 7:07 AM.

At that precise moment I was driving my youngest two darlings to before school care and forgetting I had children in the car, I played my "Teenage Angst" Playlist. My cherubic 10 year old tween and precious innocent 6 year old baby girl have been singing "We're not Gonna Take it" by Twisted Sister ever since. They asked me to play "Eye of the Tiger" this morning. My sweet innocent tween who sang "You are More" by Tenth Avenue North for the school talent show last year, he was clamoring for "Juke Box Hero".

Now some parents might feel this is something to be proud of, I have passed on my love of Heavy Metal to my offspring. But this is wrong. I have passed on a curse. I'm sure of it, our parents (and Tipper Gore) told us this music caused people to commit violent crimes and worship Satan and all sorts of other atrocities. And there is no way they would have lied to us, right?

Let this be a warning to all of you.

Man I'm not a good blogger.

2011-09-21T13:32:00.000-04:00

I keep saying I'm going to do this more and I keep not doing it. So Today I'm going to promise to make another blog post within the next year. There I think I can do that. :)

I'm baaaack!

2011-07-13T14:27:00.001-04:00

I've taken a little time off from blogging to re-prioritize my life. I'm now only working part time and I'm loving it! I'm back at Bayer and it feels like home. I'm in a good place right now. I realized I was struggling with keeping up with the blog because I wasn't writing about what I like to share. Sadly, I don't like to share my thoughts and feelings et al. but I do LOOOVE to share about my garden. So I'm changing this to really speak to gardening. I hope you'll stick around.

I'm going to take my blog in a bit of a different direction. I'm really into gardening these days, and I'm so proud of how my little garden is doing. So I'm going to do ongoing updates to my garden. I'm trying to keep it organic and so far it's been successful.

This first one will be long and probably broken out into multiple days. I want to share what I'm growing, how it's growing and what I'm learning.

It all started way back in February when I decided to expand my successful "test" garden from last summer.

In my test garden I had one row which was about 12 feet long and 2 feet wide. I planted transplants of:
2 Zucchini Plants
2 Bell Pepper Plants
2 Broccoli Plants
And started from seed
1 Pumpkin Plant
1 Watermelon Plant
Multiple Cherry Tomato Plants which became a bush of unimaginable height and width.
In containers I planted transplants of Beefsteak Tomatoes and Romaine Lettuce.
The Zucchini, Pumpkin and Cherry tomato Plants were wildly successful.
The broccoli & Romaine bolted.
The Beefsteak and Bell Pepper Plants produced a modest amount of fruit later in the season.
I learned a few things:

Container Planting needs regular amounts of water. (and I forget to water regularly)
A Plant can be saved from Powdery mildew. While maintaining organic gardening.
Pumpkin Plants take a lot of space.
Never plant more than one healthy pumpkin seedling.
I love gardening.

So in February just as the seeds hit the shelves at the local Home Improvement National Chain I was there, buying all kinds I thought looked interesting. Then I entered my locally owned garden center for the first time as a real, honest to goodness gardener.

I started by reading everything I could find. Which is pretty much how I do everything I do. For months I bought every book or magazine I could find on organic gardening. And then when I had exhausted all books and magazines I could find, I surfed the web.
Somewhere along the way I discovered garden planner and began planning my yet-to-be-tilled garden. This is what I finally planted:

Garden 2011

So without further ado, I bring you the indoor seed starting:

These pictures were all taken on March 15. I think I may have started my seeds just a little early considering I couldn't put them outside in the ground for 2 months after this picture was taken!
Things I learned:

Grow lights are not necessary. My lights are the cheapest shop lights from the National Home Improvement Chain.
A timer IS necessary.
A heat mat is necessary for some plants to germinate (Peppers, Petunias, Okra et al.)
Don't attach your heat mat to the timer.
Cats eat plants.
After you remove the ":greenhouse lids" you have to water everyday.
The lights MUST stay between 6 and 8 inches from the tops of the plants.
Plants grow at different rates.
Label each individual seed pod not the row or section. (Unless you like playing "What am I planting?")
Lots of plants look very much alike.
Don't plant tomatoes and zucchini in February. :)

Be back tomorrow for the next update, May 15th!

One year ago today 4/20/2011

2011-04-20T10:32:00.041-04:00

My mother in law tried to call me but I was on a teleconference. She texted me asking me to call her. When I called she told me, my sister in law, my husband's oldest brother's long time girlfriend, was going to die within 24 hours. of lung cancer. My mind immediately went to her 4 children barely adults some of them, 2 grandsons barely school age, and two "stepsons" my nephews who lost their mother a mere 5 months before of cancer. And then to going outside and having a cigarette. I was stressed, I needed help. My cigarettes had been my friend, comfort, stress release, appetite suppressant, and so many other things for 20 some odd years. I loved them. I loved smoking. I enjoyed it. Except that I hid it. I never smoked at work. It was stupid and I couldn't let people know I was stupid.

She hung on for nearly another 24 hours, and then peacefully passed, smoking to the end. And I had my last cigarette. I was done.

Smoking for me had always been a death sentence. More so than the "average" smoker. My father died of cardiac complications at 54. His mother died of cardiac complications at 43. My mother's father died of lung cancer and emphysema at 42. Those are my genetics. All three of them had one thing in common. They smoked like chimneys until the day they went unconscious. Smoking is particularly fatal to someone with my family history.

I am not afraid to die. I love God & Jesus and believe I'm going to Heaven. I'm afraid of leaving my beautiful healthy strong children to fend for themselves at 25 or 31. I'm afraid of not growing old with the love of my life. I'm afraid of not having all the life I'm supposed to have.

And I'm really afraid of creating smokers out of my beautiful, healthy, strong children. I'm one year smoke-free today. I'm struggling with dealing with stress in my life without my friend, my constant unchanging companion. And I'm reflecting on my sister in law and my brother in law and my wonderful strong, beautiful nephews who can do anything and will honor their mother and Sharon's memory by being the wonderful men they both helped mold them into.

Recalculating.....

2011-04-11T22:29:00.003-04:00

Those with a GPS know what the title means with nary a description. For those without a GPS, this is the message that displays on many GPS systems when the driver of the car strays from the GPS route.

It's also the image my Pastor gave me for what God does when we refuse to listen to his plans for our lives. (Which she got from another sermon) It's so perfect and so relatable. I got it. Finally.

I used to think that when we didn't listen to God, we got punishment. Punishment that was due us, not unlike a misbehaving child. God is a Father, we are his children, the image logically fits. Except that it doesn't. God never wants us to hurt. He wants us to be strong, faith-filled, loving people who live to worship him. But we are all too often really human. We don't get punished by God for straying from his path anymore than we get punished by our GPS when we stray from the route it has planned. We may be inconvenienced, driving way out of our way. We may assign personality traits to our GPS and say it gets mad at us for straying (like I do mine) but that's mere projection. I don't really think God gets mad at us for not following his path.

God merely recalculates when we stray. He recalculated when Adam and Eve sinned. He recalculated when Jonah refused to go to Nineveh. He recalculated when he destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah but spared Lot and his family. He recalculates every single day in every one of our lives. My goal is to cause him to recalculate less in my life.

God is Faithful.....

2011-03-15T14:34:00.001-04:00

....even when we're not.

Just to refresh your memory, in September I wrote the following blog entry: The Dream and I knew that God wanted me to stop worrying and be where I was for that time in my life. But I'm stubborn and hard headed (I'm really relating to Jonah from the Bible lately). For some reason I may never understand, my work at my former job was not finished. I'm referring to my God work, not the work I was being paid for. So last Friday I received an email from my former boss there. She needed me to help her with a project I had worked on while I was there.
The timing is so God. Just before I spoke with her yesterday, I received a meeting on my calendar for today. It was billed as an account review but I knew it was really a layoff meeting.
Today's meeting was what I believed, I was let go effective immediately. I followed up with my former boss and she was cleared to bring me back. We talked a little, I told her the situation and that I was officially out of work. She said she'd call me on Friday once she understood the budget and we could make some plans.
Not even an hour later she called and it seems another person she works with also needs some help, I go in on Thursday for a meeting with both of them.
I have always said God works in mysterious ways and I'll never understand why he blesses me so, but he does and it surprises me every single time.
I posted the below Bible verses before. I post them again. Mostly to remind myself to follow his plan for my life. He is amazing and faithful and wonderful and always there even when I don't listen to him!

11 For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:11-13 NIV

The need to Give...

2011-03-14T14:09:00.000-04:00

Editor’s Note: I want to take a moment to apologize upfront for this entry. This post will go all over the place and seem to have no end in sight and will be at times hard to follow, but bear with me. My thoughts on this are just crashing everywhere and I need to get it out.

There have been two times in my life when I could have been (and by all accounts should have been) homeless. And had it not been for the Grace of God, I would have been. The first time was actually many times rolled into one “life experience”. My first marriage was a failure on about 40 different levels. The main one being that my ex-husband resented having to work. However, we had 2 children and not working was really not an option, except that it was --to him.
In the span of roughly 2 years we moved more times than I can remember. The only reason we could move and pay all the deposits and whatnot was because my Mother was paying them. She was not going to allow me and my sons to be homeless. She paid more security deposits, pulled more strings and got me into more rental properties than I care to remember. She was a Real Estate Agent in Charleston, SC and she was able to get us homes our credit score and evictions would not have allowed.
Most people are just not that blessed. Most people lose the ability to rent or buy when they get evicted, especially more than once for non-payment of rent. Most people end up living in their car when something like this happens. Repeatedly.
The second time was not as dramatic, except that it was. In January 2001, one day before my oldest son’s 8th birthday our house caught fire. It was dramatic and traumatic and part of who our family is today. And because we lived 7 miles away from my mother and father in law, and we had amazing home owner’s insurance, we were able to pick up, dust off and move forward. So many people helped us during that time, our families were there immediately with clothes and toys and books. My mother-in-law set us up in her in-law suite and the Catholic School D attended took up a collection of more toys and books and presented us with that and gift cards about 2 weeks later. By the time Boo was born a mere 5 months later we were safely back in our home, with all new stuff and ready for our new son to join the family. The fire was officially part of our family folklore.

On Saturday, March 5, I joined the Associate Pastor of our church, Pastor Amanda, another Sunday School Teacher, Mrs. Donna, another teenager and my teenaged sons and we went to a Homeless Shelter to present a check or the offerings we had collected in Sunday school. The Homeless Shelter is part of a larger organization called the Interfaith Hospitality Network (IHN).
IHN was started by Karen Olson,

In 1982, Karen Olson was a marketing executive who developed promotional campaigns for consumer products. One morning, on her way to a meeting, she saw a homeless woman, someone she'd seen over and over again on her way to work.
She decided to buy a sandwich for the woman. The stranger accepted the sandwich but asked for something else - a moment to be heard, to be comforted, and to be considered as more than a mere statistic on a cold street corner.
Soon, Karen and her two young sons began frequent trips to New York to hand out sandwiches to the homeless. As she came to know some of the city's homeless people, she began to understand the profound loss and disconnection that homelessness causes. That understanding turned into an enduring commitment.

This history told to me on Saturday by the IHN Executive Director, Geleen Donovan touched me. When she followed it up with the statistics I was floored. Before I throw out those statistics, you have to understand where I live.
I live in Hunterdon County, NJ. This county has been in the top five highest-income counties by median household income since 2000. We are solidly number 1 for counties with a population of less than 250,000. This means we have a lot of money and a lot of space. I live in the midst of excess. This also means we generally value stuff. We value lots of stuff and the best stuff. My township has imposed an 8-acre minimum for housing sites. We don’t have 8-acres, our mere 2.5 acres were grandfathered in, read that again. In New Jersey we live on 2.5 acres and we were grandfathered in, you couldn’t build a home on 2.5 acres today in my township.
In the midst of this excess, people are losing their homes. We have a homeless problem. It’s not big by comparison to our neighboring cities and counties. Now, New York City, they have a homeless problem. Philadelphia, ditto. You don’t think of Hunterdon County, with its horse farms, million dollar homes and luxury cars when you think of homeless problems.
We’re peanuts compared to them, we are the literal drop in the bucket.

On January 27, 2010 there were 137 homeless men, women and children counted in Hunterdon County according to the official U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD)
The actual number of people who are homeless over the course of the year may be between two to
four times larger than the number counted at one point in time. Using the statistical formula
developed in the publication "Estimating the Need," it is projected that over the course of a year, 440
adults and children are homeless in Hunterdon County.
Hunterdon County has a population of 128,349 the homeless are a mere .3% less than 1 percent of the population is homeless.

This causes the homeless to feel an even bigger shame. The IHN helps only families. This means children and often teenagers are involved. Being a teenager is hard enough when you live in an affluent area and everyone has the latest coolest and most expensive clothing. Now do that when you are hiding the fact that you don’t have a home. If you just can’t relate, Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless by Melody Carlson really does a wonderful job illustrating this.
I feel God calling me to help. I’ve felt it for a long time. In the midst of my blessings, I am guilty of excess without grace.

"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in." Matthew 25:35

Fail.

2011-03-12T07:44:00.000-05:00

I have learned over the past 3 days I have a very serious addiction to caffeine. Going from 60+ ounces per day to none, is painful and debilitating. And more than I can withstand.

Maybe if I could sleep all day and do nothing but moan while curled up, I'd be okay, But I have children and a husband and a job that expect more from me.

I have also realized I do need to do something about this caffeine addiction. So I am going to reduce my caffeine intake daily to get it back into a normal manageable monkey instead of the gorilla I'm carrying around on my back.

I am still considering doing the Daniel Fast, but I obviously have to prepare my body for this. I have come to the conclusion that God wanted to get my attention and make me aware of my addiction. I'm aware. He certainly knows how to get your attention doesn't he?

I want to only Crave God. I want to only be addicted to Him. He should be first in my life, not coffee. I want to get out of bed in the morning and stumble to my Bible, not my coffee pot.

I am still "observing Lent" I haven't had any chocolate since Tuesday. This is a big deal for me. And I am going to volunteer at the Homeless shelter, I have a post about IHN (Interfaith Hospitality Network) ready to go, I'll probably post it on Monday. I do think it's a good idea to take some time each year and think outside oneself. I also think that's best accomplished when you focus on someone or something else.

For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. Matthew 6:21

The Daniel Fast

2011-03-09T18:13:00.001-05:00

I'm semi-joining the Lazy Christian in the Daniel Fast. I got up this morning knowing I'm now "officially" a Methodist which means I should be observing Lent. Lent has been bothering me for a while now, because I was raised Southern Baptist and I grew up being told "we don't do Lent, we're not Catholic." So I've never "done" Lent.

Until now.

Now I'm "doing Lent". Without observing Fat Tuesday. I'm getting the shaft, I'm sure. But I drove to work this morning knowing God wants something of me, from me and I'm not doing it. I've felt this for a while. I don't know what he wants, but maybe just maybe if I prayed a little more and mainlined coffee a little less, (aka. Be still and know that I am God) I'd get a chance to find out.

Two people in my life today talked about the Daniel Fast. The whole spiel is here, but the gist is no coffee, no tea the only beverage is water. No refined or over-processed anything (sugar, flour, preservatives, chemicals) no sweeteners of any kind (The only thing I LOVE more than my coffee is my Splenda). Oh and if that weren't enough, I'm not done yet... No Dairy, No meat, no fish, no chicken, no eggs and no leavened bread.

Which leaves that which comes directly from the ground. That's it, if I can't grow it from a seed I can't eat it.

This is going to be very tough for me. Some people are doing a modified Daniel Fast and that's allowed, however I feel God calling me to go whole hog (okay no hog, but you get the idea).

This is me off coffee.

With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible. Matthew 19:26