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2017-04-17T18:00:00.000-04:00

The Thorn and The Rose

By: Kate Cannon

Poking, itching, irritating, jabbing, rough, sharp thorns. They hurt, and we know they are there. Even after careful removal, they still remind us of their presence. I have often wondered why thorns are given to the rose or any other plant, as I love flowers, especially roses and yet can not seem to understand how something so beautiful can hurt if not very carefully handled. In essence, the thorn is the plant’s most viable defense mechanism, designed to protect and preserve the plant from attacks, since the plant itself can not move away from any threat. Interestingly, then, thorns keep the flowers safe, thereby ensuring life continues, and perhaps helping one to see the flower with even more appreciation as well. Thorns do have a simple and effective purpose, yet they can cause one who is not threatening, but simply intends to enjoy the beauty of the flower, to feel pain. Perhaps we can hear the still, small voice of God through the thorn and the rose.

Of course, Christ himself knew the pressure and stabbing of thorns upon his holy head, and He endured great pain in order that we may come to know him as the ultimate suffering servant. As Christians worldwide celebrated the death and resurrection of Christ this week, we have a reminder of his sacrifice for all humanity. We also have the vivid details and description of the pain he went through in order that we may know His grace, personally, which is the ultimate gift. This certainly leaves us in a place of pause… how does God intend in twenty-first century America to get in touch with us so that we can see him?

A beautiful woman and dear friend, talented and intelligent, sat with me one Sunday morning last spring in the baby nursing room at church. Her long, chestnut-brown hair flowed beautifully as she was holding her new son, whom she gently fed. I asked her how she was doing, and she began to explain to me that she was recently diagnosed with thyroid cancer. She is in her mid-thirties, married, has three children, and runs a very successful photography business. I sat in utter amazement at how calm she was as she described this illness and the potential destruction that it could cause. I still think about the peace that surrounded her and which was in her that morning, the peace of Christ which surpasses all understanding; peace, which would be the hallmark of her journey for all who know her. She began to detail for me the information she had been given by doctors, and it wasn’t long before I was feeling sick, and jabbed, and poked and pricked by those nasty thorns on my beautiful friend. She continued to describe a variety of possibilities, ranging from one surgery to several, chemical treatments, lifelong medication, the possibility of losing her voice, to even death. She was the first person I have known closely who would be faced with something this life-threatening, and the thought of losing her was unthinkable.

I could not help but lament for her family, mostly, as she spoke, as I know how much she loves them and wants to care for them. O my Comforter, in sorrow, my heart is faint within me… I also thought of the photographs she takes, a most pure art form and gift that she uses to simply highlight the goodness and truth of who God is in our broken world. She photographs children, newborns primarily, in their first days of life. Why would He allow this to happen? I only knew to pray, fervently, for my friend. I spoke with God intimately and deeply about protecting her, healing her, and giving her peace through this process. The LORD is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. I asked him many times to give her the doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel that he would hand-select as they studied her particular case. I prayed for her husband to have strong resolve and patience as he stood beside her and helped in many ways to care for daily tasks as well as provide income and the steady hands which would guide this family. Happy are those who remain faithful under trials, because when they succeed in passing such a test, they will receive as their reward the life which God has promised to those who love him. And, I prayed for her children to be understanding and obedient as they began a year of homeschooling with their mother as she began cancer treatments. Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.

Months unfolded with more news of the treatments, and soon she was choosing which hospital to attend for this most-invasive surgery. If the surgeons cut too close when removing the thyroid and parathyroid, she could lose her ability to speak. It is then that I began to memorize the sound of her voice. In it all, she was strong, and again, at peace. I would listen to her speaking on the way to the next appointment, and she would sound at peace. I would stop by to see her, and again, my friend was still in a place of peace. She was not anxious or afraid, but she seemed to be aware of the thorns as they threatened to hurt her, but only to the end that it would allow her to trust God more each day.

One surgery was scheduled to remove the thyroid and two of the parathyroid glands. There was more praying and thankfulness when she called after the surgery, because I heard her voice! I was so happy to actually hear her speaking! And as I was thinking, Lord, I give you thanks in all circumstances! she explained a few weeks later that they did not get all of the cancer out. So, there would be more medication, and waiting to heal so that they could continue. Then, another surgery was scheduled for her to have more removed, and continuously through it all she remained at peace, saying to me there is a reason. As I listened to her and watched the weeks and months unfold, I became more and more interested in knowing how God works out all things for the good of those who love Him. He continued to speak through this family and in their circumstances to me. He said, Trust me through it all, and I will show you who I am. I Am the I Am.

She is healing now, and getting healthier every day. It has been almost a year. I can still see peace in her, and it is interesting how I can see in my friend’s beautiful face, the evidence of how she has been walking closely with God. She is another example of how Christ lives in us daily by the Holy Spirit, and she speaks now with a most special voice, a voice that has been preserved by the power of God. I know that she will continue to be on a journey to live in health, and yes, in peace. I am so truly thankful for the beauty from ashes in which God can take even thorns and use them to protect and preserve the life that is in us through Christ. He is alive and as relevant today as he was thousands of years ago. He is still working to bring each one of us back into a relationship with God, as he came to testify to the truth while he was on earth. What joy we have in his resurrection…the greatest gift of all.

From the Stand of Faith

2017-01-26T15:33:00.001-05:00

Can't Cast Your Anxiety and Keep Your Pride

2017-01-17T22:35:00.002-05:00

Anxiety. I struggle with anxiety. Real, intense stress that wells up inside of me. Anxiety that I don’t know where to park. Anxiety that I am uncertain of the root. Anxiety that was lullabied into submission for years with prescribed medication to help. The same medication I quit taking nine months ago because not only was it numbing my anxiety but it seemed to overflow into many other areas of my life. I had grown numb.

So, next I tried keep it at bay with exercise. Lots and lots of exercise, and food, and wine trying to stuff a cork into this pressurized space that anxiety occupies in me. However, each time I try to fill the black hole anxiety creates in me with anything other than surrender – the void remains.

I am learning to sit with anxiety. To feel it. To be uncomfortable in it and not want to swallow, chew, or sip something to make it go away. Unfortunately, Galatians does not describe the Fruit of the Spirit that can be found in the pantry. Ben and Jerrys and red wine did not make the cut. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. (Galatians 5:22)

I know that some may want to question the depth of my faith if I say I believe what I do but struggle in this way. The truth is, I understand why someone could come to this conclusion. I would say, I know God’s not finished with me yet.

Anxiety swells up when I begin to rely on myself and my abilities. Surrender to my Savior and remembrance that I am nothing apart from Christ, brings me peace. He brings clarity to my mind and helps me know that the enemy is not ambushing me. The devil is like a roaring lion. In these moments when anxiety begins to shake my core, I’m learning to stop and ask “What is the enemy trying to distract me from?” Usually it is the truth of the great work that GOD is doing and has nothing to do with what I am capable of doing.

“So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. They are in conflict with each other, so that you are not to do whatever you want.” What I am realizing is that maybe, feeling the realness of anxiety IS in fact walking in faith. Realizing the brokenness of my flesh and not trying to run from it, numb it, or fill it with something has left me in a place of total reliance on the Prince of Peace.

I know that most people who have it together don’t discuss their mental shortcomings but maybe that is why so many of us have anxiety. Maybe it is because we feel like we are the only one who doesn’t have it all together. Maybe it is because no one wants to talk about anything but success. However, sometimes to measure success, we must look at the failures. At the shortcomings. At the brokenness. At the flesh. Maybe we have to see those things first to be able to look at the growth, to see the change, and recognize the GLORY of the great work of God. So, tonight I share with you something that is somewhat uncomfortable to talk about. But, maybe if I’m brave enough to share more than a Pinterest moment, through an Instagram Filter with a Facebook like, maybe then I am able to humble myself enough to show who I am without Christ so others can SEE who Christ is in me.

He brings me peace in the midst of my storm. He brings me surrender when I want to fight. He restores when I try to fix. He gently waits when I run.

Recently, I listened to a sermon by Steven Furtick of Eleveation church that I think I’ve listened to 10 times now. I listen to it a lot because he is speaking of something I know well. Pride. He points out in his sermon the word anxiety. anxiety. Look at the word. Maybe the root of all my anxiety is me. I. I wonder if I were able to truly surrender the “I”

anxiety

pride

Steven goes on to say “maybe anxiety is the fruit and the pride is the root. Maybe you’ve been trying to cast your anxiety and keep your pride. Maybe you need to know that pride and anxiety come in the same package.”

“Humble yourself, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

But you know, this lion in my life called anxiety, it is losing its grip. Does it still swell up, distract me and even succeed in giving me horrible tension headaches at times? Yes. But do you know that over time, the headaches are not as often, the grip is not as intense? Even the fact that I can sit with it and feel it and not run to find something to numb it is a huge victory. The fact that I want to share this with you doesn’t terrify me or bring me anxiety. I feel freedom in sharing with you this piece of my brokenness that God continues to restore and renew.

Furtick says, “The enemies that we fear today, will be your testimony of triumph in your tomorrow.” Where my anxiety multiplies is hidden in the darkness, where my pride of appearances doesn’t want anyone to know. Freedom continues to be found in the dawning of each new day, in His mercies, in sweet surrender to Him and His power that is at work within me.

“Resist him(the devil), standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To Him be the power for ever and ever.” (1 Peter 9-10).

I share this to let you know I don’t have it all together. I always joke, in truth, about the hot mess I am. But you know what, I mean it. Most days I feel like the conductor of the Hot Mess Express and Jesus loves me anyway.

Tragedy into Treasure

2017-01-16T09:27:00.002-05:00

On this great day of remembrance of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I want to introduce you to another change maker. A person who has taken all that has happened in her life and surrendered it to the Lord. A strong women who knows that God can truly work all things for good and for His glory for those who love HIm. This courageous woman has taken her struggle and turned it into the fuel for her passion for the Lord and for life. She has taken her darkest moments and bravely found her ministry in sharing what God has brought her through. Today, I am honored to share my cousin Sarah's story of overcoming. Her story of dry bones to life. Her story of bravery, courage and finding Christ in the midst of the mess. May God bless you through Sarah's testimony.

"My name is Sarah. I've been asked to write my testimony- I'm not a great writer - I'm a better speaker so please bear with me because the message, my journey, my healing and how the Lord came into my life along the way is a story worth sharing. It's a journey that saved me and led me to a new healthier way to live . I'm now 43 and about 20 years ago the disease of addiction took over my life and I lived a slave to it during all those years not able to come to terms with it or surrender it to begin to heal. Addiction is a very difficult road. I believe with all my heart that drug addicts and alcoholics are born with this disease. It's only a matter of what they put in their body to trigger it later in life. In fact there are many addictions and diseases, 30 "isms " that I know of.

People are addicted to eating, gambling, TV, video games, shopping... it goes on and on. My disease almost killed me. I was shooting up meth, opiates , and drinking alcohol for so long. Thank you to God for giving me the strength to find Him. I began to put God in center of my recovery. Through Him I have grown into the mother, daughter, and sister I was meant to be. I was raised in an amazing home with great parents. I was popular . I played sports and kept very active. However it was not a Christian household . I don't blame my parents whatsoever , but I always felt "different ". I had this hole in me that I was trying to fill. I didn't know that my void was meant to be filled was God . My mom suggested to me in 1997 that I try going to church. I'm not 100% sure her belief but I know at that point was so shaken by my disease that she was reaching for anything to help me. No psychiatry, no doctor, no rehab worked. I went to about 15 of these over the years, and detoxed six times . Talk about feeling helpless and hopeless.

I ruined my parents best years of their lives with constant worry and waiting for a phone call that I was dead. So I took my mom's suggestion and I went to a very small church down the road from my house .That church is where I accepted Christ into my life and was baptized by an older pastor named Reverend McKay. I will never forget him. He would just show up at my house and speak the word to me. I didn't understand anything of what he was saying. My head was in such a fog but God's word is living and active. I heard that I had a loving God who was not mad at me and that I had Jesus who would forgive me if I asked him to - no matter how bad, how sinful or how hopeless I felt.

I wish I could say that I stayed clean and sober after that but, I did not. Not until 2011 did I finally get it during my last trip to jail. I spent many years inside and outside of jail, suicidal , and just plain crazy . But I kept praying and praying for God to help me. I never understood that he would help me but I had to do some of the footwork. II

I know a lot of addicts who are very mad at God for not being able to get over the habit and move on because they have not realized there's footwork needed in their recovery. The prayer just does not work like that . Every time I asked for God's help during my drug use I ended up in jail. God had to physically pluck me from society to give me time to clear my head to figure out what I needed to do. It took so long but I kept praying and kept my faith . During my last trip to jail, I finally prayed to God that I was willing to go to any length to stay clean and sober . I told God that if that meant putting me in jail or prison for 10 years , I was willing to do it . The freedom of that prayer, in jail, was the best relief I ever had in my life. I knew I was done with my old ways.

I was supposed to do two years in prison, but God saw fit to put me in a Department of Corrections and Drug Rehabilitation program for women. I was willing to do everything they told me to do and I stuck with the girls in there who believed in God .I have fellowships and 12 step programs that I go to on a regular basis. I sponsor other women. I always keep God at the center my life now.

I have an amazing husband who is seven years recovered. He also did 12 years of his adult life in prison. Being married to a Godly man is amazing. Our story of how we were brought together is remarkable. We have our children and our life built on a foundation of Christ. We are able to pray together. I now have devoted much of my extra time to helping teach a Bible study in the county jail where I once was held. I help teach a faith based parenting program to women in the jail . The people God has put in my path along this journey is unbelievable. Many of them are parents of still sick and suffering addict's looking for my counsel at times .

God had better plans for me. I am so grateful for that every day . I am able to repay my apologies with living amends to my family and myself by staying clean and sober one day at a time . My sponsor tells me God turns are tragedies into treasures and I believe that. I like to share that with other people . If there's anybody who really needs to know this, it is a family member, friend or loved one who is enslaved to the disease of addiction or if you yourself are the addict or alcoholic. Please know there is a better way of life through Christ and if this old junky can do it ,anybody can .

I've enclosed in this testimony my last mug shot five years ago. The other picture is last April on my Wedding Day. God not only restored my heart and soul but, he helped restore a once strung out ,lost woman. My eyes say it all.

I feel honored that my beautiful cousin asked me to write this for her blog. I was not very close to Jenny growing up but I always, always remember her and her family's faith in the Lord. I'm so grateful to be able to share that same faith. "

Five

2017-01-12T22:22:00.001-05:00

In 1988 I wrote my first book. It was entitled "My ME Book". My Kindergarten teacher recorded my responses. It was the first and last book I published. Well, at least the last elementary school book that I could dig up. I've published several articles in magazines and many, many blog posts since but somewhere along the way I lost the confidence I had in myself as a 5 year old. At 5 my answers were given with the assurance that comes from a pure heart and an untouched spirit.

Over the years, I've become a little more uncertain and a little too concerned with the voices outside of my own soul rather than listening to the gentle whispers inside. Call it a midlife crisis or an awakening but as the hour glass grows ever closer to 35, the confidence of that 5 year old has started to float to the surface. The precious, big cheeked, bright eyed, certain of who she is girl seems to have returned. Years of turning to the world to affirm, praise and say "you're ok" suddenly seems to be washing out with the tide and being renewed with fresh soil and fertile ground. Ground that is ready to grow seeds to fields never imagined and dreams to sow that were once out of reach.

The thing is - at 5 I knew the worst thing I ever ate was...peas and baby food. That is still true today.

At five, I got really upset when my brother teased me. The thing is one of my biggest upsets in life is the hurt I feel for the addiction my brother deals with and the effect it has had my family and for many years my self confidence. As an adult I would have to say that I get really upset that I can't "fix" it. But, I have to remind myself that I wasn't called to fix anyone. Not even myself. I was called to lay down my life and to receive the grace that God so feely extended to me in the midst of all of my sin.
God also calls me to extend the same grace He has given to me. I'm working on that.

I'm shy when it comes to...at 5 I said, "going to funerals". My great uncle died when I was five and I remember trying to understand death, dying and heaven at such an early age. I could not.

After school I would like to eat lunch and watch TV. Well, that still doesn't happen these days.

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I feel good about myself when I share. Thirty years later and that is still true.

My favorite story at 5....

Tomorrow is my youngest's 5th birthday. If I accomplish nothing else, I hope he feels good when he shares and loves the the story of when Christ died on the cross.

Happy Birthday Zach. The one who made our family complete. The one who made me see myself outside of a mirror. The one who made me remember who I was when I was five. Kind and shy and fiercely in love with Jesus Christ. The one who adores Mommy, Daddy, Noah and all things with sugar much like myself.

The one who came a little early into this world and made a statement. The one who makes my heart sing and reminds me that you can be gentle, meek and fierce all at the same time! You are my precious son. I am so honored to be your mom. Here's to many more paintings, snuggles, hugs and tender moments that mean more than a picture can capture. You, my son, are going to change this world in your own gentle way. Manners matter Zach and your sweet manners bring me to my knees. Thank you for holding the door, saying yes ma'am and always asking me "What would you like, Mama"? You are my reflection beyond the glass and I am so thankful for you. You created a beautiful new meaning to Friday the 13th. It was the day you completed me and our family.

Perfectly Put Together

2017-01-11T20:03:00.000-05:00

By Jennifer McGowen

HELLO WORLD! I do NOT have my stuff together. I hold my tongue when I say “stuff” because I just finished a nursing shift and have to reserve the word that I want to use for actual fecal matter. But whether it’s actual poop from the patient, or it comes in the form of frustration expressed by the patient’s family, it’s all the same thing in my book. And here I will tell you that I don’t have any of it together. I apologize in advance for somehow seeming like I have it together, but here we go as to why.

A few months ago after writing a presentation for my local MOPs (Mothers of Preschoolers) group, which was postponed due to a hurricane, I shared it with my dear friend who wanted to post it on this blog. After such a great response, several said, “Please share more!” Especially after a preschool Halloween event one mom came up to me and hugged me out of nowhere and said, “I’m so happy you wrote that post about anger! I always thought you were ‘Perfectly Put Together Jennifer McGowen.’ I showed it to my husband at said ‘See! I’m not the only one!’” ….

Perfectly. Put. Together. And my name. I love the momma that said that to me. I love her honesty! She’s a mom of 3, as am I. Her 3 are close together, as are mine. I love that she hugged me! Don’t we all need a hug every day? Immediately after that though I began thinking. There must be several people that think I have it together. That led me to think about why they must think that. And here is what my self-discovery has revealed:

I may seem to have it all together because I have tried to stop comparing myself to others. I know, that doesn’t seem simple. I think that’s the #1 complaint from new moms and especially with social media is how easy it is to compare yourself with others. I try not to compare myself with others because I know that we are ALL just trying to survive. We are all trying to make it through breakfast with breathing children. We are attempting to dress unruly little people that don’t want to put their arm into the shirt hole and kick profusely at the idea of pants. We are struggling to feed small people while forgetting about ourselves because that is towards the bottom of our list of priorities.

Whether you are a mother of humble means, or privileged, our children don’t know the difference. Here are perfect examples:

Kate, a mom of 3, is trying her hardest to get the middle to take an oral liquid medication that tastes horrible and the child needs. The pharmacist said, “Just mix it in smoothies! She won’t taste it.” Kate’s response, “Does your child drink smoothies morning and night??” Next pharmacist’s recommendations, “You can try mixing it in ice cream, yogurt, mashed potatoes, or bribing her to take it.” I get it, enough is enough. So this genius mom got her to take the medicine morning and night with candy. That’s right, candy at 7am. But hey, you do what you got to do.

Julia, also a mom of 3, just moved into a new neighborhood from out of state. It’s a great neighborhood, wonderful amenities, and this is a custom built home that they hope to live in for a very long time. Just one and a half months into living there, they received notices from the HOA about weeds in the flowerbeds. After several calls to landscaping and such, the only remedy was to pull the weeds themselves. So, after kids went to bed, her and the husband spend several nights getting eaten up by mosquitoes until 10-11pm pulling weeds from the flower beds. But hey, you do what you got to do.

Lindsey, also a mom of 3 (side note, there is no correlation between being a mom of 1 or 2 or 3 that helps you feel like or appear to have your stuff together, again, we are all just trying to survive), who I ran into at Target. This mom bought organic things here, and safe stuff there, but when it came to the cereal aisle, she grabbed Cinnamon Toast Crunch. She said, “Hey, no judgements here, they love it.” I said,”Girlfriend, do what you got to do.”

Those 3 examples and countless more in my head have helped me try to stop comparing myself to others. It doesn’t matter if you have limited means of income and coupon to feed your kids Fritos and donuts. It also doesn’t matter if you have unlimited source of income and could buy anything for yourself and your kids. Love is priceless and character is priceless. Encouraging positive behavior and kindness will go much further than thinking, “I need to keep up with the Joneses and enroll my children in 6ish afterschool activities.” Spending time with my littles one to tell them God made them and God loves them is what matters.

I am certainly not perfect. But my kids think I am. My children think that I am patient, calm, giving, loving, caring and kind. I sometimes don’t feel that I am those things, but when I stop comparing myself to others I know that I am exactly what God intended. I am the chosen mother for Ada, Thomas and Jayson. He chose me! He made me their mother! He picked me out of all the others to raise 3 Godly children! Not the girl across the street, not the mom driving a fancy car, and not the mother who appears to me that she has it all together.

So you know what? I most certainly am “Perfectly Put Together In God’s Eyes Jennifer McGowen”. And God made me so Perfectly Well, I am made in his image just as you are.

On Our Knees in Awe

2016-12-10T18:47:00.001-05:00

by Kate Cannon

Is there anything known that truly causes us to be in awe? According to the Cambridge Dictionary, the definition of awe is "a feeling of great respect, usually mixed with fear or surprise.” This understanding may seem foreign, even difficult for some of us to understand as we live in a world that is so broken. Awe may seem out of reach and quite contrary to our daily experiences in life. And yet, my son can always seem to find the awe in the everyday. He has a gift to point out that which is awe-inspiring to him, and will share it with anyone who will see. His perspective, full of wonder and awe, brings joy to me and so many who know and love him.

I was recently doing my grocery shopping at a store that I frequently visit. I have learned to become more careful to use coupons since I am not currently a self-made millionaire, and I am trying to raise my family in a most financially responsible manner. Coupons, at one point in my life were a complete waste of paper and time, as I thoughtlessly tossed that free money into the trash and laughed at anyone who would make the effort to fool with them. Oh the days of being single and childless, on which I reflect with other memories of frivolity and some of the mistakes that came from without having the grounding and helpful sense of commitment and love I have now found in having my dear family.

Currently, I find coupons for "$4.00 off of my next shopping order" to be a useful, helpful, and necessary part of my weekly shopping checkout experience, and so I take great care and time to select items for my shopping cart based upon the coupons in the tattered envelope I insist upon carrying around every aisle on every visit. Some people ask if I am really that serious about them, saying, “Really, can’t you just not worry about it?” if I have forgotten the envelope at home. Or there are others who ask, “Why do you waste your time messing with all of that?” And then there are the employees who must face me every week, most all of whom at this particular store are helpful and will patiently wait for me to unload my very full cart, with the help of my two precious children doing their best to lift cases of water and kitty litter on to the conveyor belt carefully so as not do decimate the lovely strawberries they also just carefully selected. We always try to purposely shop during hours which are not high in traffic (yes, I actually do shop at 7 am on a Saturday morning when I would rather be at home in my pajamas watching cartoons with my kiddos), and if there happens to be a line, we attempt to get into the longest one, just because I know we will take about 20 minutes to check out when it is our turn. Clearly, I am trying to be respectful of those who are shopping, as well as the employees, as I would never get into that sweet-sounding line that sings at me from across the front of the store “This lane, 15 items or less.” Actually, I have happy thoughts about that line. I long to be in that line sometimes, where I see someone with a half gallon of milk and some caramel brownie ice cream, as they casually find a $10 bill, checkout with their items and change, and are already in the car in 15 seconds or less. Now that is awe-inspiring.

On one particularly quiet morning at this store, I was checking out with all of my stuff in the lane I am always in, expect this order had all of my Thanksgiving items on it plus all of my regular groceries for the week: turkey, cranberries, bread, celery, mushrooms, green beans, potatoes, onions, milk, butter, eggs, paper towels, toilet paper, and the list goes on and on. It was a fully bulging cart, and I was thankful that I had enough money to buy these things for my family, and I was thanking the Lord for His goodness, and looking forward to dinner, and happy I had my coupons. And then I saw her. The cashier who will not, under any circumstances, run my coupons properly. We go way back, and I am sure she is a lovely person, but I have had some unfortunate experiences with her. I began frantically looking for another cashier, but - that’s right - I remembered, it’s 8:03 am on a Saturday morning, and there were only two employees working, total, in the whole store, so another lane was not an option. Dang it.

I also began to feel that nagging, annoying, irritating sense of my old self beginning to bubble under the surface because I had a cart full of important items, and A LOT of coupons. It is the part of my personality that can be sharp-tonged, quick-witted, impatient, and also very condescending, unkind, and controlling. I really hate that part of me, because it is pride at its worst: self-righteousness cloaked in brazen aggression and overbearing power that is hurtful, damaging, and also yet very effective in the world. That personality gets things done, and it also leave chaos, fear, and anger in its wake. I know that part of my old self, my pre-Christ self, and I have really worked with the Holy Spirit and had many discussions with Him about replacing that with the Fruit of the Spirit, understood plainly as “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” Lord, please help me, I silently began to pray. At that same moment, my dear son started crying, loudly, and holding his ear. Wow, really? Is he seriously getting an ear infection right here, right now? No way… we are supposed to leave for our first trip ever to Disney World in less than two hours and I need to get my mom from the airport…what am I going to do?! Our items had been carefully unloaded, and finally I had enough room at the back of my order to put those coupons down, as I do every week on every order and every cashier runs them, and I save some money and get my groceries and go home feeling like I have done my part to help my husband and our bank account while providing for my children food and health. I was thinking through all of that while paying with my credit card in the machine, and sure enough, she closed out my order and totaled it without those coupons. She casually handed the receipt, approximately the length of the Declaration of Independence, and my unused coupons back to me and said, “You did not hand your coupons to me in time, so I didn’t run them.” There are many things my old self wanted to say, and do, at that very moment. I looked at her, and then I looked at my children, one of whom was in a great deal of pain, the other who was being quiet and helpful and patient, and I said out loud, quietly, but audibly as I looked at that cart, my wallet, my children, and those coupons, “What are You trying to teach me?”

I think this is the shift, though, friends. When we find ourselves in less-than-desirable situations, we seek His wisdom and discernment; we seek Him. I didn’t really realize that was what I had done, though. I only realized it later, when I had exited that store, in which I spend thousands of dollars a year, feeling frustrated, angry, and slighted, and recognized that I had not completely lost my cool in front of my children nor made a fool of myself by berating that employee or taking it all out on one or both of my children. I unloaded that mass of groceries, picked my mother up from the airport less than an hour later, made it to the doctor’s office with my son (who had a terrible ear infection that day), and we did get to go to Disney, too. I realized it all when we were on the drive to Orlando, that we are in the constant presence of the Almighty, the One who is in control of all things at all times, and that if we look for Him in the everyday, we can be in a state of awe where we “bow down in worship and kneel before the Lord our Maker; for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care” as Psalm 95:6,7 remind me.

This verse is especially interesting to me, as I am not typically in awe of anything. I am never bowing down or kneeling for any reason. In a dream, my brother who passed away from very sad and unfortunate circumstances at 25 years old, came and said to me, “Kack, everyone there needs to be on their knees in awe,” and then disappeared. I did not understand anything that would be so awe-inducing that I would ever get on my knees. I could not imagine what he meant by being in awe, especially how I was feeling that Saturday morning. But I looked up that verse, after waking from that odd dream, to see if it was anywhere in God’s Word, because, I rationalized to myself, that could have been one of those weird dreams that doesn’t mean anything … And, I found it, in Psalm 95 and in John’s vision of seeing Christ in Revelation 1:17a. In His living, breathing Word, we are called to be in awe of His power, majesty, and care for us, even to the point that we can no longer stand. We are literally “on our knees in awe.” Then, I remembered how I felt when my daughter was born, and they laid her in my arms for the fist time. I was in awe. Falling-to-my-knees-in-adoration, with-the-utmost-respect, and in-holy-fear-awe… at her life and from Him whom she came. Then I had another flash, of Christ, who could have come in all of that power and majesty, and with all of the heavenly host to reconcile everything here that feels so broken. But He didn’t. He came weak, and helpless, and lived as we do, temped and tried under the most trying of circumstances, for us. Those words about awe mean everything to me now, and I am so grateful for them. He loves us even when our worst side is threatening to show up, if we will simply seek Him first above all things as Matthew chapter 6 discusses, then He will provide everything we could ever need, and we will be in awe of Him and Him alone.

The Void

2016-12-06T17:47:00.000-05:00

By: Beth Massey

It’s Christmastime, the season of giving, our opportunity to reflect on God’s greatest gift to mankind – Jesus. We sing carols, we decorate our homes, send cards to friends and bake cookies. We spend hours shopping for (and hundreds of dollars buying) just the right gifts to show our loved ones how much we care. And as it’s the season of giving, our hearts ache a little more than usual for the those in need, for those whom a season of celebration and abundance is a burden. We gladly answer the ring of the Salvation Army bell with the clink of spare change. We joyfully drop puzzles, dolls, and games in the Toys For Tots box at the grocery. Perhaps we adopt a local family to clothe and feed on Christmas Eve, or we pluck an angel from the Angel Tree. We invite neighbors to church with more fervor and eagerly volunteer our time opening doors, pouring coffee, and caring for children during Christmas Eve services.

GENEROSITY. It’s a hallmark of the season, isn’t it? But shouldn’t it be a hallmark of a Christ-centered life all year? Not just generosity with our time, our talents, and our finances, but especially with our spirit? Just what does generosity of spirit look like in our daily lives? It’s kindness, pure and simple. It’s love without strings attached. It’s meaning what you say and only saying what you genuinely mean. It’s treating others with fairness, despite the circumstances you face, and leaving all notions of self-administered justice at the curb. And, trust me friends, it sounds a lot easier to practice than it actually is.

A failure to be generous of spirit with others reveals a desperate struggle against emptiness within our own hearts. We cannot give from a place of emptiness. In a void, we will inevitably hoard goodness out of fear. We will “like” a friend’s post on Facebook out of a sense of obligation and a wish to appear kind, when in reality we are gritting our teeth because… HER. KIDS. ALWAYS. LOOK. SO. DARN. PERFECT. AND. ADORABLE. AND. ARE. IN. MATCHING. MONOGRAMMED. OUTFITS. FOR. EVERY. SINGLE. FAMILY. EVENT. GOD. GIVE. ME. STRENGTH. MY. CHILDREN. ARE. MONKEYS. We will run some offender up a flagpole because, gosh darn it, what we think about that person matters! What we have to say about that person matters, despite the fact that: (1) don’t know that person; (2) we aren’t privy to all the mitigating factors surrounding their offense; and (3) we weren’t asked in the first place. We meet others’ personal and professional successes with a lack of enthusiasm, or worse, skepticism, or even worse, with flat-out displeasure because “they clearly don’t deserve it as much as I do.” We don’t pick up the phone to call because THEY never call US anymore. We celebrate when the ESPN ticker announces that our rival football team lost a game and dropped in the polls – that’ll teach ‘em, right? We don’t tip the server because she was rude.

Whew. Anyone feel convicted now? Because I do. It has taken me years, and as many wounds inflicted as suffered, to learn how to live with a spirit of generosity. What I’ve learned is this – you have to face the void, where it came from, why it still exists, and how you can fill it. When I faced the void, I saw deep loneliness and insecurity. I tried to fill it with relationships and with achievements. The more I pleased and the more I proved, the emptier I felt. I was pouring myself out for gain, to the point where I no longer new who I was, or even why I was. I struggled with anger and resentment. And then I met Jesus. And I was introduced to grace. And, for the first time, I really believed that I was loved, that I was already everything I needed to be without striving. He filled the void. His love freed me in so many ways, not the least of which is no longer feeling like I need to hoard goodness, kindness, love or mercy. I am assured of being made whole in Jesus, and I lose nothing by being generous of spirit with others. I am free to love without loss. We all are.

“One gives freely, yet grows all the richer;

another withholds what he should give, and only suffers want.

Whoever brings blessing will be enriched,

and one who waters will himself be watered.”

Proverbs 11:24-25 ESV

Refining Love

2016-12-04T08:27:00.000-05:00

Tidy. Most people like to live and show a tidy life as a trophy case on display. Behind a spotless glass the trophies are untouchable, unmoved and on display for all to admire. The proud accomplishments throughout life that have become memorials of achievement. However, the trophy case cannot share the stories that are more impressive than the piece of metal. And, most often, while interested eyes look through the glass case, they may not know the coach who carried the team to victory. They most certainly may not know of all of the failed attempts. All of the pain. All of the tears. All of the efforts, injuries, shortcomings and practices in the storms, before the victory.

You see, the stories are actually worth more than the tangible object held over heads in celebration. The stories, are the life change. The stories are where one has the opportunity to share that the victory won was because of Christ alone. The stories are His glory. The trophy, the memorial, is to remember the story. But, we have to be brave enough to share them. Because, most often I find that the story is never just about the teller, it's about the person who is listening who needed to hear it, too.

I call myself a hot mess a lot. I am a hot mess filled with His message. Many people misinterpret me when I say it. It's not derogatory in anyway. It's me embracing the messiness of a beautiful life and the redemption of Christ in me. It's a public profession of His glory despite my natural tendency to get in His way. Calling myself a hot mess is a way of expressing, that I chose the messiness that comes with deciding not to allow certain life experiences to define me, but rather, refine me. It's a messy painful process. But, what hurts even worse, is to decide not to be refined.

Behind the trophy case that you may have assigned me, or that I display, this girl has had so much going on beyond what the eyes can see. I have shared many of my victory stories as God has stirred in me to do. But, God has started to help me understand that sometimes it is important to share the victory story before the trophy, before the championship, before the the battle has been completely won. That His grace is not just in the outcome. His grace IS in the midst of it all.

Our struggles may be packaged differently but our God is not. Today I have the courage to touch on a subject that many Christians, I find, are unwilling to talk about unless they've arrived at the other side. Marriage struggles.

To me, I've been behind the looking glass of so many marriages, looking in and wondering - wow- look at all of those trophies. Now, I know better than to assume, but if I don't check myself, it is easy to allow my thoughts to drift and wonder, is my marriage the only one that is so broken?

Years of not prioritizing each other and not putting God first in our marriage, left us in a place of brokenness, resentment, hurt and anger. However, recently, by the grace of God alone, He has provided healing and hope. He has set the road ahead not as a champion's parade but as a path out of the woods, with unexpected twists and turns, from this day until eternity. A path, to walk, hand in hand, together, out of the cover of darkness and into the light. A path, that isn't perfect, but that says, come on and walk with us. We've been there. We are here. Let's walk towards healing together. Let's embrace our perfectly imperfect marriage just as God embraces our perfectly imperfect selves.

From the stand of faith, let's say, we're not afraid to tell the world what God is doing in us and we know that our struggle is for His glory. I don't want others to see a trophy case when they look at us. I want them to see a canvas, messy and beautiful, covered with the blood of Christ and His redemption shinning through. When others look at our marriage, I want them to say, "Praise God. Look at what Christ is doing!"

When our children look to us, they will no longer see us as fighting with each other but, fighting for each other.

The legacy we will leave together is love and the painful refining process of walking in love. Day after day after day. I know the next ten years will be richer than the last. I know that He isn't finished with us yet. And, I know this story is so worth sharing instead of just keeping it to ourselves. What the enemy was trying to kill, to steal, to destroy, he has not and will not. Christ, who is seated on the throne, didn't need to stand. He needed us too. And, we have. Together. We will stand firm and say it hasn't always been pretty, it hasn't been easy but, it is worth it and by God, together we will continue to fight for each other.

Christ made a way. He moved mountains. He caused walls to fall. He broke chains. He set us free and called us one. Then, he painted the skies and showed me what our new life together would look like, like the dawning of a new day.

He then showed me the cross and gently reminded us that He, God, is a master at using the wreckage of a storm and transforming it for His glory. To shout to the world, not look at what the storm did, but instead, LOOK AT WHAT I CAN DO! Death to life. Beauty from ashes. Better than rebuilt, remade. He showed me the broken remains of a dock on Litchfield Beach from Hurricane Matthew that someone used the broken pieces to make a cross, to remind me, that all things can be remade. And, he doesn't just rebuild. He transforms. He renews. He remakes a changed marriage, a new union as one together, in Christ alone.

Instead of a trophy to hold, I have my lover's hand and a story of redemption that Christ alone has allowed which is the process of refining love.

2016-12-03T16:47:00.005-05:00

by: Jessica Lowery

As moms it can be so easy to get caught up in the "comparison trap"! Constantly comparing ourselves to other moms; whether it be how they parent, what they do or don't do, what they have that I don't, their smaller pant size or flawless skin, their spotless house or scratch made dinners, their easy pregnancies, their extravagant birthday parties, their wealth, their family vacations and we all know the list continues; and scrolling your Facebook newsfeed doesn't make this "trap" any easier! But what about their struggles, their hardships, their abusive relationships, their family problems, their addictions (whether it be greed or alcohol) would you want that too? Because the reality is, everyone has sufferings, we just know how to hide them from the public eye.
As a newly wed, nearly eight years ago, I remember texting my husband everyday asking him what he wanted for dinner that evening; I wanted to be that wife that had an amazing dinner waiting on him each night he got home from work. I remember the day when he said "I don't care, just make something. Whatever you make I will eat it"! At first I couldn't believe what I heard; it just seemed so easy to make him happy without going above and beyond. I no longer had to compare myself to what other wives were doing or what I thought my role was. The contentment that he had spoke volumes.

Then we had kids, three kids (that are one, three, and five years old to be exact), and I would put so much effort into making sure the house was spotless before he would walk in the door from work. This was exhausting and unattainable to say the least. I would find myself overwhelmed, bitter, angry, anxious, yelling at my kids to not touch anything that was finally in its place and then he would come home and not be the least bit impressed with the mood I was in or why our kids were crying for attention. As far as the house being picked up, at that point it didn't even matter! Again, he helped shift my focus by saying "I don't care what the house looks like. We have three kids five and under, this is the season of life that we are in. When we are old and by ourselves we can clean all day long together". Through Jakes words and seeking God himself I learned that the things that I thought mattered so much, that I tried so hard to be perfect in, didn't matter at all to those that loved me. Isn't that what the "comparison trap" does?! It fools us to believe that certain things matter in life, when the truth is that they really don't!! Jake is always reminding me, when I need it most, where to spend my time and focus and that is on things that really matter!

     If Jesus were to knock at your door tomorrow he would not be impressed by how clean it is, whether or not the beds are made or dishes in the sink and dishwasher are put away, the high end trinkets perfectly dusted on your shelves, the awards and achievements hanging on your wall, or the amount of money in your bank account ; BUT, he would be concerned with just how many people you have helped, how many sacrifices you have made, how your time was being spent, how many people you have shared His love with and the love you pour out on to others. The "comparison trap" sucks you in to having to live a perfect life, on the outside, but robs you of experiencing joy, peace and happiness on the inside. Keeping up with the "Jone's" can be exhausting, because once you finally get the perfect house, car, clothes, or whatever you think will make you happy you will never be satisfied and constantly searching for more to fill your empty cup. BUT what if that cup was already full without all of the STUFF; and the blessings along the way continued to overflow your cup day in and day out, and you were never left discontent BUT always satisfied with what you had?! This IS the life God desires for us to live! How are you living? Where is your focus? He knows that by getting caught up in the "comparison trap" we are allowing our self to be constantly under attack, leaving us without the fruits of the spirit. He tells us in Matthew 6:21 "wherever your treasure is, there your heart and thoughts will also be".

You might be thinking that all sounds great, but how do I get to the point of feeling that way? The answer is Jesus! However, sometimes insecurities with your self-image and jealousy get in the way of living free of this "comparison trap," even if you do believe. This is where we must first:
1.) Believe what God says about us
2.) Focus on what matters and
3.) Follow Jesus.

      God says that we are "FLAWLESS", meaning there is nothing we can do to earn His love because he already paid the price in FULL for ALL of our sins. The ones we made in the past, the ones we will make today, and every sin in our future. Once we grasp that concept and believe it, we will no longer have to search for perfection because we are already perfect in His eyes and that is all that matters! The same goes for everything else in our life. We will no longer have to search for the next best thing to make us temporarily happy or strive to keep everything perfect, like the lives that appear that way around us; because, we will begin to see our life and stuff as already perfect, just as He does.
     You have a choice to live a life of gratitude, focusing your attention on the daily blessings in your life or continually comparing your life to those around you. In doing so, you will miss out on the many blessings right in front of you, because you're too worried about what other people think. It's time to break your chains and experience Gods plan for your life! Get ready, you will be in awe of how truly "freeing" it feels to break that bondage!
     As we approach Christmas it's easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle. I encourage you to take a step back this Christmas. God doesn't care about the burnt Christmas cookies, ornaments being thrown off the tree, half up Christmas decorations, the search for that perfect gift, or Christmas cards that never make it out. Rather than always focusing on what you want I encourage you to shift that focus to what you already have! More than anything he wants you to LOVE the life that he has given you, just as it is, and spread that love to those around you. We are all in this together, let's build each other up and break free of the "comparison trap".

Blessings to all,
Jessica Lowery

2016-11-28T06:15:00.000-05:00

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Always Autumn

2016-11-26T20:44:00.000-05:00

by: Kate Cannon

School and autumn … this is a combination I have always always loved and looked forward to each year. I love how it begins as the warm summer fades into chilled nights and the more structured, scheduled days are full of productive and meaningful studies of subjects that enrich and sustain intellectual and emotional development. I love that school allows children an opportunity to not only work and study on their own, but it also simultaneously gives them ways to interact and engage with others in a setting that teaches kindness and bravery all at once in a place that at its core, is one of the more pure places in our human experience. I love the way in which the world changes during the beginning of school in autumn, right before our eyes… in color, in song, in scent. Leaves are seemingly shy as they turn shades of crimson, gold, and amber while geese blast out a catalyst for flight to warmer regions. The once-beautifully bursting pink and purple hydrangea blooms send a new message that tells us all to rest as the flowers fade into dusty, quiet shadows. All the while, children are near, preparing for their own unique and special metamorphosis as the school itself becomes the cocoon in which they will stay for the cold winter ahead until they emerge new and changed next spring.

Fall also brings a host of other special events: parties with shiny apples and vibrant orange pumpkins, contested elections that change a nation, Veterans Day in which we thank all those who have served, and certainly Thanksgiving Day in all of its bounty and history - stories which make us all who we are. It is necessary for people to reflect upon their heritage and blessings, as the more grateful we are, the more grateful we become. In addition to all of these special days, autumn also brings a haunting moment in September: the call I received regarding the untimely death of my younger brother. This is a date in the autumn season which I have been utterly unable to see any hint of a blessing, amidst so many days full of joy, despite God’s word that we should “give thanks in all circumstances.” Impossible. Completely and totally impossible. His death is not a blessing, and isn’t it ridiculous to even say such a thing? A heavy portion of anger, along with a heaping amount of sadness, coupled with a nagging feeling of continual guilt and including great amounts of disbelief, and the sense of shame involved do not begin to describe my walk through that difficult day of my life. My husband (of only three months at that point) and I heard that news in the middle of the night, and just hours later we were on a flight to the hospital where my brother lay, swollen, bandaged, and being kept alive by modern medical science and a team of highly skilled medical professionals. Shortly after our arrival, and following a brief and uncomfortable greeting to all family members, he was pronounced dead. We spent the next three days in the trauma unit waiting for his young, healthy, perfect organs to be placed in others’ bodies. I could easily relate to Martha when she must have uttered to Christ in complete despair, “Lord, If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” I was standing there with my own sister, attempting to understand what Mary and Martha endured so long ago.

Autumn... cold, dark, lonely, sad and scary … this also part of my autumn. Those months I spent in sadness, confusion, and fear asking more “why” questions than I ever knew existed. Not even the excitement and love I have for school could help, or being newly married, or having dear friends who went out of their way to call, text, and write to me in the aftermath, or having my own family with whom to walk through some of our darkest hours … nothing could ever possibly fix this. It is Death.

Red-hot anger in those days and weeks turned into a cold wind of bitterness and that chill gave way to rock-hard resentment in my heart for years. I shut God out and really blamed Him, thinking that if He were a loving, kind God as I know He is said to be, then He would never, ever allow such a tragedy to happen. He would simply not allow such a thing to occur, especially to me or to my family. He must not exist, I concluded. And then, just like that, back to school my hardened heart went as I continued telling Him that He is not fair, that He is not there, and I simply continued to do what I know how to to: teach. School is comfortable for me because I love children so much, and gradually I gave bits of my heart back to the students and families with whom I worked, and I did not talk about my brother with anyone. I was simply told Christ how angry I was … and this was a turning point, dear one — I began talking to Christ directly for the first time in my life. I told him how angry I was for allowing this to happen and I said to Him directly that there was nothing left in which to hope, and I told Him that it was always autumn in my heart.

And then, my dear friend, after many years of hiding from Him and blaming Him, God spoke back to me in a quiet voice during a dream. He made clear that He loves me and loves my brother, even though I am not able to understand all of His ways. He made clear that my brother, just like Lazarus, had been resurrected and is now with Christ in the heavenly realms.

Three times.

He gently, quietly, clearly showed me in three different dreams that my brother is loved, healthy, alive and saved. I did not create those dreams, and yet they have prompted me to find out more about Christ and His Father. The worst tragedy of my life has become the very event which has allowed me to begin to process how God will "provide for those who grieve in Zion-- to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.” This verse, Isaiah 61:3, has comforted and challenged me since I began to see the power of Christ in our lives - yours and mine.

Every year, on my little brother’s birthday, God does something special just for me! He makes some miraculous detail in the day happen that lets me know that I didn’t make it all up in my mind wishing that it were true. For example, several years in a row there has been a red cardinal who comes and perches just overhead, following me down a path of beautifully blooming trees on the 27th of May every year in different locations, but always on his birthday. My brother was my best friend. God wants us to know Him deeply and intimately, in ways that we only will if we have walked through the valley of the shadow of death with Him and then come out on the other side, still walking with Him. When autumn is over, when the winter seasons have come and gone our lives, I want to be able to say that I have a crown of beauty, the fragrant scent of oil, and a garment of praise. I am still working on it… but now I am working on it with Him. Friends, He is asking us to join with Him to conquer sadness, disappointment, pain, fear, and even Death itself, by the power of Christ on the cross.

The Car Wash

2016-11-21T19:54:00.002-05:00

My car is filthy. Like, dirt roads and mud holes, dirty. Write your name on it, dirty. Car pool full of boys, dirty. Preschooler snacks and pre-pubescence - dirty. I pay a ridiculous amount to subscribe to a local car wash. Do you know, I drive by it every day with my dirty car? The car wash that I've already paid for- to wash - my dirty car? I drive past it - every day. I always have a reason why I don't stop. Usually, it is that I will go tomorrow.

A dear friend of mine says, "cleanliness is close to Godliness"..oh Lawd, help me! We could eat dinner off of her car's floor. For real.

Tomorrow never comes. Charlie Brown "Linus" style dust cloud continues to follow my #CarFullofBoysandFriends. Soon, the dust cloud will be named because it is becoming the size of a storm. I know it. Yet, I still drive past the car wash. Every day. The car wash that has already been paid for.

This reminds me of something. Oh yes, I know! My life and Jesus' ability to wash away. To make new. I've been made new. Many years ago. However, there are still things that I carry. The dust on my car. That dust that I always think I'll wash off and let go of tomorrow. In the wash, that has already been paid for, I continue to drive by with my dirt. Tomorrow, I'll go.

I know He is in my mess, but what if I allowed Him to wash over me. The parts of me that I don't want to surrender. The parts of me that I know need His cleansing blood to wash over me again and again.

Recently my car has been gifted a large dent in the rear courtesy of my two reasons why we can have nothing-nice-in-this-phase-of-life-boys. I didn't ask for the dent. I didn't cause it. But, alas, it is there. The dent, the dust, and the precious boys that I adore. The boys I prayed for. The boys I thought I might not ever have. Dirty, messy, beautiful, mine.

At car rider pick up, I usually feel the need to apologize as the door opens. But, I don't. Instead, I laugh. I smile. And in the words unsaid, I say, it's a season. Someday I am going to miss these smelly, messy people that I live for - who trash my car, dent the rear and leave snack wrappers to find their way home.

It reminds me of how God must feel about his daughter - me. Instead of apologizing when the dust ball comes rolling up on the scene. He smiles. He knows the car wash has already been paid for. He knows, I'll get there. He knows my heart, my mess, and loves me anyway.

Car wash, or not. He loves me anyway. He is always there. Patiently waiting to wash over me. He doesn't judge the mess when it finally pulls up. He restores. And, sends me back off into the world to get messy again.

Jesus Loves this Hot Mess

2016-11-19T09:46:00.000-05:00

In the midst of the mess, the struggle, the strife, and the sufferings we go through in life, it can be easy to overlook the beauty that can be found right in the center of it all. During some of the darkest seasons of my life, beauty was birthed, in pain, through the mess. Beauty from ashes. Dry bones to life. A tender sprout of new life amongst the rubble. In the aftermath of hurricane Matthew, there has been so much destruction, devastation and debris to clean up and recover from. As our town has been working through the process of restoring yards, neighborhoods and homes, I have seen beauty in the mess. While sitting with sadness for those who lost so much, I also began to move past sadness to see the potential in the pain. The potential looks different for each person. For me, in life, unrelated to a hurricane, pain has stirred purpose, potential and a giant push to overcome.

We are given the opportunity to decide how to handle our trials, though, we are not given the choice of what trials will come. We can choose to become angry. We can choose to become bitter, resentful, damaged and undone. We can choose many paths. We can even sit with all of these emotions for a short while on our road to restoration. However, I know, chaperoning these feelings to take root in our heart for an extended period of time, will not allow progress and complete restoration.

For example, in my neighborhood there are still a few yards with huge trees that were crushed in the storm. The process of restoration has begun, but is not finished. Chain saws are continuing to cut up the dying trees and now enormously, heavy, pieces are stacked and lined by the road awaiting equipment to come and pick them up. Branches and brown leaves are like confetti on the lawns. This particular sight is one I drive by each day. The clean up process was fast for some yards and for others it has taken time. In this particular yard that I drive by, the homeowners were fortunate in that the tree did not fall on their home. However, now, they have this huge pile of debris sitting on their lawn with the potential of killing all of their grass.

When I drive by, I don't see the mess anymore. I see the beauty of the huge logs. I see a background for pictures. I see potential. I see the beauty in the ashes. Last evening, just before dusk, I grabbed my camera and a few pieces of wearable faith that I've been working on. I ran down the road and set up shop, in their front yard, taking pictures of my bracelets in the midst of the hurricane's mess.

In addition, to the pictures, I met the homeowners as the pulled into their driveway. I'm embarrassed to say that we had never met and only live a few houses away from each other. It was a pleasure to meet Mrs. Emily and Mr. Dutch. I told them how beautiful I thought the logs were and how much I would love for my husband to figure out a way to tote them to our yard. They laughed and I'm sure thought I was a little off my rocker! Mr. Dutch then shared a story with me about the joys of young children and the elderly. He shared a story with me that he had seen on tv about how a young child brought so much joy to an elderly man in a retirement home who was struggling with depression. Hope. Joy. Love. It's all around us if our eyes are open to it.

This morning, I realized, that sometimes the most beautiful things are not the image captured but, rather, the story behind the lens. (On a side note, I'm the worst photographer there ever was but I have found the courage to take pictures for my shop anyways because, for me, imperfect is better than not trying at all). So, I grabbed my camera and threw on some clothes for fear of running into neighbors, in my pajamas, while taking pictures of bracelets in the debris - oh, Lawd, now they KNOW it's true I am - the strange neighbor! But, it occurred, that there it was - in the midst of the debris, on the dawning of this new day, that God's word is true and He does mean what He says. In Psalm 30:5 it says, "For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning."

I don't know what debris is clouding your thoughts and decaying your heart this morning. But, I do know the God who can make all things new. The God who can raise the dead to life. My God who makes beauty from ashes. My God who adores you and all your mess. My God who adores me and my hot mess. God, who can look past the debris and see the potential, see the purpose and show us the way to it. The God who can use ALL things for His glory including the trials, the pain, the suffering, along with all of the goodness of your life, for His name sake.

In our limited perspective sometimes we see this: The mess. The ashes. The dry bones. The jagged edges. The once was.

But, I believe, along with those things, God is able to see more. He sees the beauty in the ashes. He sees the dry bones coming to life. He sees the tender sprout rising up from the rubble. He sees the potential, the purpose, the plans that are good even in the midst of the mess.

I am not a jewelry maker, or a photographer. And, until three weeks ago, I wasn't someone in the clothing industry either. I've spent too many years of my life telling myself who I am not. Why I am not and the reasons not to try. The beauty from my ashes continues to remind me and make me realize that I care too much not to try. My greatest concern is not about the products I am making, but the God who I am making known. If wearing a t-shirt, a bracelet or something else that speaks of who the God I serve is, then you better believe I am willing to risk what it takes to figure out how to do it. This Wednesday, will you join me? Will you show the world the beauty in your ashes? Will you wear your faith as a stance of - my life may not be perfect, but my God is. You can wear whatever you have in your closet, a t-shirt, a cross, a bracelet...use what you already have! I encourage you to stand, join us in #wearablefaithwedesday each week and begin a courageous conversation in the grocery store, at the gym or at work. The world needs you to help others know that there is beauty in their ashes and Jesus loves that hot mess, too.

Be the good. See the good. Make a difference. Make a change. Make the world a better by showing Christ in you. Make. Make something for his glory. Make His name, known. Sitting and staying in fear never changed the world before and it certainly won't now. So, get busy. Move past your fear of failure and get to work.

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For Such a Time as This

2016-11-16T05:54:00.003-05:00

Looking back I can see how the dots connect. I can see how I was being prepared for something I could never have asked for or imagined. I can now see, with perspective, what had seemed to be a blurry mess in my life - like an illusion that one stares at for long enough- that the blur comes into focus. God has been refining me, in an uncomfortable process over the last two years of my life in all aspects of my being. He is allowing for the stripping away of layers and the pruning of my soul. It has been raw, painful and sweet all at the same time. To share all He has done, is more than one quick write. However, today, I would like to share about the birth of a dream I didn't even know I had.

Last Fall, my oldest son, Noah, started first grade in public school. As a past public school teacher, I was very comfortable with the curriculum, the system as a whole and knew what to expect. I was uncomfortable with was the grandiose of it all. The huge school, the large student body, the unknown teachers and the reality that he was no longer under my watch down the hall at my preschool. Shortly before school began, I learned that he would have a brand new teacher. I was quickly taken back to my first year teaching and began to grow anxious. However, I was quickly put at ease at Open House. His new teacher was wise beyond her experience and appeared like an old pro.

Several weeks went by and I continued to have a deep unsettling that I couldn't name. He was attending a great school and had a wonderful, passionate, new teacher. However, night after night, I kept feeling like I wasn't in step with what God was requiring of me. You see, a year before, I felt a gentle nudge to consider a Christian school. But, I ignored. I questioned and then I moved on. There was the private school tuition. Ouch. There was the fact that I was a past public school teacher. There was uncertainty with their curriculum that is different than the curriculum I taught. There was uncertainty and fear. There were differing opinions amongst peers. There was a whole long list of "Buts, whats and ignoring" because I certainly knew what was better for my child than what God was asking of me.

Finally, after literally wrestling with it for weeks, I did what I thought I'd never do. I obeyed when it was difficult, uncomfortable, unpopular and unsettling. As a teacher, I never thought I'd move my child during the school year, especially not only a few weeks after the start of the year. I felt slightly crazy having to explain to a phenomenal principal at the school, that I thought the world of Noah's teacher and highly of the school itself, but that I felt led to leave the school. She soothed my soul by her response of encouragement to be faithful to how I was being led. Telling Noah's teacher was equally as difficult because she truly was exceptional. She was doing everything well and yet, we were leaving.

Since, moving to a small Christian school in obedience, God has changed my life. He has changed my relationship with him. He has made my faith come to life. And, here, I thought it was only about Noah. In First grade, at the Christian Academy, Noah's teacher, Jennifer Carroll, introduced me to something called Illustrated Faith. She showed me wide margined Bibles that people actually painted, drew and colored in. She introduced me to jewelry and t-shirts that inspired me. Over and over, Mrs. Carroll continued to point me towards seeing Christ in a different light. You see, I had put limits on how I thought I could experience God and therefore my relationship with Him was also limited.

Looking back, I can see missteps along the way because I was moving in fear. I was leaving the known of public school, my public school teaching experiences, and stepping into the unknown of private school. I can see the areas where I refused to walk in faith and continued to try to cling to the comfortable. However, Mrs. Carroll, continued to show this nervous Mama, grace. But more than grace, she showed me Christ in a way I never imagined I could see Him. She showed me How to worship Him, and walk with Him unlike I ever had before. Suddenly, I was interested in opening my Bible more often and spending time in it. I felt like a lifetime of feeling unable to express myself through the arts began pouring out of me through watercolors, markers and colored pencils. I had this new unbridled need to create, beautiful or not. I was no longer limited by the expectation of perfection. I could just be, me.

At the same time, my husband and sons, started spending most of their free time hunting, four wheeling and being outdoors. I began to purposely shift my thinking from resentful to intentional about this hobby of theirs. I started going with them. I started showing up. It was uncomfortable. But, I kept showing up. After many, many, many outdoor expeditions with my little explorers, something surprising happened. Their love for the outdoors started becoming my love, too. It didn't happen quickly. It wasn't forced. But, after showing up over and over and over again, my heart began to change.

This is the season of my life. Showing up. Show up rain or shine. Muddy and messy and beautiful. Show up, anyway, and watch what God can do.

In February last year, while out to eat, Noah interrupted the conversation and said he had something he needed to tell me. Thinking it was another long Minecraft narration or expression of His love of all things digital, I told him he needed to wait because his Grandma and I were talking. He patiently obeyed and finally could not wait any longer. He came over and whispered in my ear, "Mom, today at Grandma's, I prayed and asked God to come into my heart."

I almost missed the moment, because I thought I knew what he was going to say. Just like I almost missed a life change, because I thought I knew better than God.

Now, a little over a year later, God used Mrs. Carroll to stir up a passion in my heart that has unknowingly always been there waiting, patiently, to be awakened. God has used a little hunt lease in the woods, that I used to resent, to bring our family closer together. He has been teaching me to show up, not to be afraid to get a little mud on my boots or paint on my hands because life is messy and beautiful. Through it all, He continues to teach me to trust Him. Trust His ways and to stand up, stand out and be set apart for His glory, for His namesake. So, in that, in my illustrated faith, in the t-shirts and jewelry I've worn, I started to wonder, what if I made it myself? What if I stepped out into the uncomfortable again? What if I chased something I didn't know how to do? What could God do through me if I trusted Him?

I'd like to introduce to you, my little Etsy shop of wearable faith, From the Stand. Because, for me, it is from the stand of faith and obedience that I was willing to show up to what God was asking and requiring of me, with my family and my faith. From the stand of faith, I was willing to show up to a place I never imagined I'd be and realized that in my love for my family, I would also find a love for their passion, in the woods, and also in a deer stand. I'm not afraid of failing with this new little endeavor because my ultimate goal is not just to sell t-shirts or stationary but to MAKE Him known. If I able to do that alone, I will consider it a success.

I leave you with this thought, what is God asking of you? Are you willing to leap "From the Stand" of faith in your life? We need you to. The world needs you to show up and to throw off the fear that has been holding you back. The world needs what you have to offer. It's time to move past fear and into faith. It's time for you (and I) to get to work in what God has been asking you to do. If that means taking a class, attending a conference, finding a mentor, or simply showing up, it's time to get started. You were made for a time such a this. You. The only you that God made. He has required something of you, that only you, can uniquely offer. Show up. Say yes to what He has asking and go do it. You don't have to be perfect, you just have to be you.

Our charitable t-shirt "God, give us hills to climb and the strength to do it" is on sale for $25 from now until Black Friday (Nov. 26th). 100% of the proceeds go directly to Camp Ridgecrest through our Stand Up Kid Camp Scholarship fund for a boy or girl from Myrtle Beach to experience summer camp and possibly meet Christ for the first time while they are there!

Listen to "Stand" by Hillsong United

Unsettled Hope

2016-11-10T06:24:00.000-05:00

Let us not become so focused on a donkey or an elephant, that we lose sight of the Lamb. Let us remember that we are, One Nation Under God.

Heaviness. I awoke with heaviness deep in my soul over all that has surrounded this past Tuesday's Presidential election. Swirling thoughts of fear, doubt and uncertainty want to rise up and scream out for attention in my spirit.

However, this post, is not political, I promise. This post is positional. Each day, I must- want to or not- position myself in a way that I am able to know, that I know, that my hope is not in man (or woman) but that my hope and my strength comes from the Lord. I refuse to give way to fear. I refuse to allow feelings to determine the approach to my day. I refuse to allow darkness to overcome the light. I refuse to allow the way others are speaking and acting towards people with a different opinion to dictate how I will respond.

I find that Christians are remarkable at sharing what they've overcome in the past but struggle to share honestly about what God is in the midst of doing in present circumstances. When Peter was called out onto the water, the miracle was in the moment! There was no need to wait to be in awe of what God was doing because it was so evident with the first step of faith.

In this transitional time in our country's history, let us not wait to be in awe of what God is doing. Let us not miss what He is doing in the moment because of our focus, posture and position are downcast.

He is the same God, yesterday, today and tomorrow. He is sovereign. He is mighty to save. He is still in control, in charge and on the throne. He didn't need my opinion when He formed the earth, and He doesn't need my opinion now. What He needs, what He requires of me, is to show up, show love, show obedience and show Christ to a world that is desperately looking for someone to Hope in.

Let us stand, united, as One Nation under God, with the position and posture that is found through faith. Let us pick up our heads and run our race. Let us run with endurance the race that is marked out for us. Let us show kindness, concern for other and care about more than our own opinion. Rise up, pick up your head, and stand. God is faithful and He isn't through with me or you, yet.

Second Place

2016-11-06T21:28:00.000-05:00

Today I experienced a new phase of motherhood, a championship game. High stakes, real trophies, not just participation awards. I felt the pressure the kids were experiencing and it made me want to step in and throw up for them. Crazy. You see this season, our seven year old son was somehow placed in error on the U-10 soccer roster. After showing up to try outs I started noticing that all of the boys were bigger and older than him. I wondered where all of his peers went this season and then kind of moved on to the next distracting thought on my to-do list and didn't think twice about it! Well, at least not until the first practice where it came back to me! Everyone was HUGE, tall, strong, fast and skilled. And we were, well, not.

Coach, I said, I think maybe we are here by mistake! After speaking with our coach, Noah and I realized that indeed he was the youngest on the team. After asking if we should leave the team and re-register, our coach encouraged Noah to stay. I explained to Noah that he would be the least experienced and the youngest on the team. He wasn't crazy about that idea. Then, I explained to him how much he could learn from those who had more experience but at the cost of maybe not as much playing time. He reluctantly agreed to stay.

Shortly there after we received a very detailed e-mail correspondence from the coach in regard to the systems he would be implementing and the practice schedule. Two practices a week. Oh vey. And, a fairly detailed points-to-badges system for the players efforts. Really? I just want to show up, practice, go home, Coach.

But, something happened. Week after week, I watched. I admired. I began to adore the way Coach DeFeo approached YMCA, U-10 boy's soccer with excellence. The type of excellence my parents paid several hundreds of dollars for me to be coached with on traveling teams growing up when I was playing soccer in high school.

I watched the passion of a father shine through as Coach DeFeo not only poured out for his own son but for all of our sons. A few weeks into the season, some parental grumblings began because not every player received a patch for their performance each week. The players knew the rubric for earning different patches and worked hard to achieve the points needed for different offensive, defensive, goals, assist and sportsmanship patches. Eventually, a disgruntled parent pushed back, and sent an e-mail to all of the parents on the team saying that they felt all children should receive a patch each game for showing up and participating. Though I understand the heart of that sentiment, I do not agree. I decided to reach out to the coach because too often, I feel as though if someone is doing something right or well, they may not hear about it.

Coach DeFeo,

Your approach with our soccer team has left a huge impression on me as a parent and an even bigger impression on our son. You strive for excellence not only in the sport but, in character development, and lifeskills that our children so desperately need in all areas of their life. I appreciate that you honor and recognize accomplishments through your patch system. It has helped shed light on the idea that “everybody wins just for showing up” is not beneficial after a certain age. And, in fact, I believe, becomes detrimental for a trophy that has no real value. Children understand this at a very young age. I’ve heard my child tell company at our home when they ask about his soccer trophies that, “Everybody gets one!”. What I have never heard him say is, “I worked hard, our team worked hard, and we earned this trophy!"

Your patch system is also helping our son to realize that if you don’t get a patch that disappointment is OK. It can become the fuel to ignite the extra push, the extra drive, that a “Trophy for All” could never teach. In addition, your players know you value them, you encourage them and I know that your patches are meaningful because they are earned. I also think it is helpful for young boys to start to find confidence in what they do well. You honor them by noticing what they do well instead just saying “Good game! See you next week.” You are fair, your are kind and you are consistent.

As a teacher, I understand that what YOU do is the path less travelled. I understand that you approach your volunteer job with excellence and as a true professional. I've noticed that what you do to strive for excellence, creates so much more WORK for you. Thank you for treating this YMCA soccer team with the passion, commitment and excellence that you do. By expecting and displaying excellence, your team will achieve it! You are believing them into being incredible soccer players.

As a mom of a son, I so appreciate your approach. My son, who I hope will grow up to be a hard working man and father, needs to know how to push harder towards his dreams, be coachable and strive for excellence. You are teaching these boys to show up, play hard, play clean and be encouraging to their teammates. When I heard that you were once again facing push back on your choices as I coach, I felt discouraged for you. But be encouraged, Coach, true leaders and difference makers in our world are the ones who become the catalyst for change and who take the path less travelled.

Thank you for caring enough about your son and all of the sons represented on the team to not take the easy road. You don’t just show up and go home. And, thankfully, that is teaching our sons to not just to show up and go home either. Many of these boys may not go on, for one reason or another, to play soccer for years and years. However, what they will take from this soccer season is more than a trophy for just showing up. Thank you and the other coaches on our team for striving to do things so very well.

We feel so fortunate that you are our coach. Know that your leadership extends further than to just the children you coach. People are watching and noticing how great of positive impact you are making!

Kindly,
Jenny

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for man…” Colossians 3:23

Today, we took runner-up to the champions, but in my book, my child won. He won a season under the influence of a man who taught him to dream, to set goals and to work hard. For that, I am forever thankful. And, guess what, his runner-up medal, means something more than just showing up for the season.

Wash Over Me and My Kitchen Sink

2016-10-25T13:43:00.000-04:00

If your house looks anything like mine, you might have a few (or many) dishes in your sink. A counter top may be welcome space for piles. Dropping points for groceries, lunch boxes, school calendars, and papers to send back to school. Your couch may be covered in laundry, your floor disguised by toys. Or maybe you're a little more gifted in time management and don't have to restart the washer 3 times and dryer twice before completing a load of laundry! I do believe I've solved the mystery of why my laundry is never done. My laundry is stuck in the remedial cycle over and over again. However, we all have that place in our home or our life that we wish we could "tidy" up a little more.

For me, my kitchen sink is one of those places. How on earth two small children, a husband and myself can fill a sink with dirty dishes so many times through the course of a day is mind boggling to me. Rinse, wash, scrub, repeat.

The other day in the midst of grumbling about being the only one in the house who actually sees the dishes in the sink (forgive me, it's true), I started to realize that maybe there is more to my kitchen sink than meets the eye.

Maybe my sink is a representation of my need for Jesus. It takes just a few moments to move from shiny and clean to piled high in a mess! It's a constant cleansing, washing and WORK just as is my relationship with Christ. He's always there ready to wash over, restore and cleanse me. But, those dishes require me to show up, activate the water to wash them and do the work to carry the task onto completion again and again and again.

So, tired Mama at Target, I see you. Mama-who-looks-far-too-fabulous-this-early-in-the-morning, I see you, too! What do we all have in common? Our kitchen sink. Your's may be spotless and shining, her's may be a mess. But, the sink's job remains the same; to wash over the mess until it restores the serving utensils back to clean, back to what they were made to be - ready to be used for a purpose, ready to be restored again and again again.

Your Creator is ready to for you, for your mess. For my mess. He's ready to wash over the mess until He restores His servants back to clean, back to what they were made to be - ready to be used for a purpose with a great passion. His washing is permanent. His water is living, His well never runs dry.

Unhinged

2016-10-22T20:28:00.000-04:00

Dangly earrings are nice. I like how they sway and say, "Look at me! " I do not like when my tailgate hinges resemble earrings. I do not like how my perfectly planned sleep-in-Saturday began at 5:15 with "MOOOOOOOMMMM, I think I am going to throw up." I do not like when God allows me the opportunity to walk in what I say I believe when it is inconvenient, uncomfortable, and expensive.

This morning was exactly that. This morning began at 5:15 with upset tummies and early risers. Thankfully, as stomaches calmed and the sun rose we began to get ready to head out for soccer team pictures at 9:30. Early morning Paw Patrol and Sugary cereal seems to be the cure-all for any ailment except tired parenting.

Being the ever prompt family that we have become, at 9:15 we were headed out the door for team pictures at 9:30 (of which my husband is the Coach). I had packed the chairs, cleats, snacks and all things needed for a short jaunt to the soccer fields for the morning. I ran back inside to grab jackets because of the cool morning we were having at the beach. I left the tailgate open, garage door up...and thought it would just be a quick minute until we were headed to the fields.

Moments later I hear screaming in the garage. I hear in juvenile voices, "Put it up!", "Stop!", "Put it down!" Followed by the sound of crushing metal. Oh dear. I came out of find my #paidfor car's tailgate wedged in my hurricane proof 1,000 pound garage door with the hinges dangling like earrings from the top.

I don't have a picture to share because in that moment I wasn't thinking, "Ghee, God, could use this to teach me something today!" I was thinking that I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs until I no longer had breathe at what my boys had done to my car in their On/Off game with the garage door and my tailgate. I wanted to ask them how it is they manage to destroy all of the nice things we have in our home?! I wanted to tell them how much time I would have to sacrifice in the repairs of the tailgate and how expensive their little boo-boo would be! Instead, I thought of the sweet mama who was featured as a guest blogger just today. I thought of her words and her real expressions of the heart in dealing with anger. So, when I wanted to scream and cuss at what had been done to my car in a few short minutes, I turned around after seeing my car without saying a word, went inside, sat down and started to pray. It didn't change the anger I was feeling in that moment but it did spare my children from the rage I was feeling. It spared two little boys emotional well-belong, who had no idea how they had caused so much damage in just a few short minutes.

My husband managed to "un-stick" my tailgate from the garage door. It came down with a loud, crashing, thud..dangling "unhinged" earrings and all. It managed to stay latched and shut. Only a small dent to tell the tale of the actual damage of my tailgate. He warned not to lift the tailgate for anything and that he would meet me at the soccer fields.

The boys left in apologetic tears, despite neither Rob nor I actually speaking a word of what had happened. It appears as though they have learned to read the expression on my face as clearly as the words I speak.

Once they were gone, I took the opportunity to tell my empty house and God exactly how angry I was and why I was so angry about the circumstances of the morning. Unfortunately, I didn't feel any better after yelling about it so I was thankful there was no one there to receive my harsh words.

Once I arrived at the soccer field, a few sweet Mama friends were there to receive me and had been warned by Noah that "he broke the car and the garage" this morning. We had a good laugh, and suddenly, I felt better.

Then I gave over my anger to the Lord. My car is still broken. Unhinged. It's going to be expensive. It's going to be time consuming. And, it sucks. If I allowed myself, I would still be angry about it. But, truth me told, in the up/down tailgate commotion, my boys had no idea the damage being done. Screaming at them would not undo what had already occurred. It would have only made me feel worse about how the day began. They understood how I was feeling without saying a word.

My saving grace came because a friend was brave enough to talk about dealing with her own anger. My self control this morning came from recalling her words. When emotion had been contained, I was able to talk with my boys and tell them that accidents happen but that this particular accident was going to be expensive. I told them that they would be helping to to offset the cost. Tonight, on our prayer wall, I found this:

So, we aren't the best spellers but Lord knows we can pray! Noah told the devil to leave us alone. :) And, as the wise boy that he is, he thought he better pray about how he was going to help pay for the tailgate repairs! I suppose I am thankful that he isn't praying about how his mom screamed and yelled at him. I will count that as a win today in the midst of the crushed metal, early rising, think-I'm-going-to-vomit Saturday we've had at the Edwards home today.

I share this to say, someone needs to hear your story today. Be brave. Be a guest blogger. You don't know how your testimony will shape someone's day, someone's children, someone's tomorrow.

Roots of Anger

2016-10-19T18:14:00.001-04:00

Written by Guest Blogger Jennifer McGowen

My name is Jennifer McGowen. Let me tell you a little bit about myself before we begin. I’m born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina. Went to NC State University in Raleigh, graduated with a degree in Animal Science, because back then I thought I wanted to be a vet. During my senior year I realized I didn’t really want to be a vet. I didn’t want to take biochemistry. I didn’t really want to work 80 hour work weeks. I didn’t really want to be in ½ million dollars debt and start out making around $40,000. I didn’t know what I wanted to do at that point, but I was enjoying finishing up college.

One week before I graduated, I met a boy. One of those moments when he walked into the room and everything was shining right on him. He was Davis, and within just a few months into dating we knew we wanted to be each other’s forevers.

After graduating I worked as a vet tech at a local vet hospital, and Davis was finishing his senior of college. I then realized I wanted to go to nursing school. I saw how great nursing was for raising families and not having to work 80 hour work weeks. Just after we got married I got into nursing school. One and a half years later I graduated from UNC Chapel Hill. Just before finishing school I got the job offer of a lifetime at Rex Hospital in Raleigh in labor and delivery: only because a good college friend of mine’s worked in human resources, and basically put my application on top of 800 others on the nurse manager’s desk. I was so excited, I was going to get to deliver babies at the hospital who delivers the most babies in the whole state of NC! Usually someone has to die in order for a position to open up in labor and delivery, and here I was fresh out of nursing school getting to start.

Not but 3 days later, I was home with my husband when he gets a phone call. He’s getting a promotion to move him to Myrtle Beach. I couldn’t believe it! I grew up vacationing to Myrtle Beach every year! I mean, it’s the beach! BUT I had the job of a lifetime! We talked for a few days of how we could make it work with me living Raleigh 3-4 days a week and then joining him in Myrtle the other days. We were newly married, we figured it could work. But then we decided that since we were still young and freshly 2 years married, it was best that we start a new chapter together in South Carolina. I know I cried my eyes out, leaving the house we thought was going to be our forever home for 30+ years. My mom even said once, “Can’t you just stay in NC and Davis go work there?” I said, “No mom, I’m going with him.”

Two months later we packed up our house and moved to Myrtle Beach. THE very day the movers came I pulled Davis to the side. “So you know that thing that starts on a Wednesday every 4 weeks in the morning for the past someTEEN years of my life? Um well it didn’t start today.” “Are you worried?” He said. “No, I bet it’s just stress from the move.” Several days later after being here, I was working on getting a job. I walked into Grand Strand Medical Center and spoke with a lady in HR, and she told me a position I’d be perfect for. We didn’t have internet yet so I had to go the public library to apply for the position. After leaving I thought, “You know this predictable every 28 day visitor still hasn’t shown up.” I swung by the Dollar Tree on the way home, because I knew from nursing school it was the same “pee in a cup” pregnancy test that your doctor gives you. As soon as I got back into my car the nurse manager from 3 East called and said “Your application and resume look amazing, can you come in in 1 hour to interview?” “Sure!” I said. I called Davis to meet me at home because I needed him to drive me. So silly of me to think it was a good idea to take a pregnancy test 45 minutes before a job interview. What was I thinking. Well, sure enough, positive. Elation, vomiting, crying, calling my best friend all ensued. Davis walks through the door and I tell him. That face. That is a face I’ll never forget. That smile and tears in his eyes I’ll never forget.

I end up getting the job. We have a baby 8 months later. And fast forward 5 years, Davis has had 3 more promotions and I work PRN, or basically 2-4 days a month at the hospital mainly weekends. AND we have a 5 year old, 3 year old, and just turned 1 year old.

I tell you all of that because I don’t remember being angry or mad back then. I remember getting upset about certain events or situations. I don’t remember holding onto things that made me mad back then. B U T we didn’t have kids. We didn’t have jobs that required more than we thought we could give. (And by jobs I mean paid jobs and dad duties and mom duties.)

In the past five years, I have been so angry that I’ve thrown remotes at the wall. I’ve gotten so angry I kicked 2 holes in the wall, the last one I was one inch on either side from kicking a stud, and that would have broken my foot, which would have made me even more angry. I have been so angry that I screamed at the top of my lungs for about 30 seconds straight and then was hoarse after. I’ve been so angry I just collapsed to the floor and bawled my eyes out.

This week I made dinner as usual around 5:15. Now with a kid in elementary school, I pretty much have to feed dinner at 5, baths at 6 and bedtime by 7. I made the most sophisticated meal that actually takes me so much time in the kitchen. I had to start the fire in my built in kiln, then I had to unfasten the sides of the package, place this round sustenance into the kiln and establish the correct cooking period to enable perfection. 18 minutes later, I cut this pizza into tiny kid sized pie-slices, arranged so neatly onto a paper plate with grapes and apple slices, and voila, a feast. Big kids Ada and Thomas started eating. The 1 year old, Jayson, buckled into her high chair for her keyboard letter size pieces of cheese pizza heaven. I actually made a grown up salad for Davis and me. I devoured mine while standing in the kitchen between getting milk cups and napkins and cutting things smaller and whining this and “I can’t scoot closer!” crying. Around 6 pm Davis walks in. Everyone is so happy to see him. I make him an actual plate of supper to enjoy at the table with the kids, and before he can even take his shoes off, Thomas is crying that he needs to go to the bathroom but it’s too dark in the hallway and he can’t go. Davis is trying to convince him to just go, just go! Just go already to the bathroom. He even turned on the light for him. I’m now sitting at the table finishing my salad and pizza, when now Ada, Thomas, and Davis are in the bathroom or right outside the bathroom or the hallway, or something, either way. This is what I hear.

Ada “I was just taking my shirt off!” Davis “Well I don’t know why you need to take your shirt off to go poopoo but you’re taking too long.” Thomas “But I really needed to go!” Davis “Well next time don’t take so long when you said you needed to go.” Thomas continues to cry, comes to me. It’s the not real I’m hurt cry. Yall know this whine. Davis “Thomas you’d better hurry before someone else in this house goes before you. You’d better hurry before Jayson goes.” Thomas now whining crying walking back to the bathroom, “Jayson just goes in her diaper.” Davis “Well most of the time.” Thomas walks down the hall weepily out loud crying and goes to the bathroom. 30 minutes AFTER I’ve made Davis’s plate he sits down to eat.

I’m cleaning up at this point and all I can say to him is, “See?! Do you see why I’ve gone crazy?!”

My husband always says to me, “Why are you so angry? Why are you so angry all the time?” I respond “I’m not angry I’m just mad!” Of course that response is just because part of me doesn’t want my husband to be right all the time. Of course me saying “I’m just mad” makes me feel like somehow that’s not as bad as angry.

When researching about this anger topic, I was surprised to find this:

It is common in informal everyday expressions for the word "mad" to be used for "angry." Anger" (Angry) means a strong displeasure and antagonism directed toward the cause of a possible wrong or injustice. Example: I am angry.
Madness (Mad) means a suffering from or manifesting severe mental disorder; insane; lunatic; psychotic; crazy. Example: Madness is a severe mental disorder.

So of course after reading this I was like “Damnit, he’s right. Er well, wait a minute, I mean he’s right because he thinks I’m just displeased with so many things all the time. But also, I could be right, because being in charge of 3 small people all day long is driving me crazy!”

Let’s try this little quiz. I’m going to give an example and chose whether you think it means angry or mad.

1. If a person is mentally ill to the point of being insane, we may say that the person is angry/mad.

2. Mother is angry/mad about your report card.

3. The person became so wrathful and loud that we feared the person was angry/mad.

4. Do you know that I am really angry/mad with you?

5. The player got angry/mad when the referee called a foul.

6. You must always be in control when you become angry/mad.

7. You must be angry/mad if you think I’m going to help you rob a bank!

8. Seeing things that aren’t there can be an indication that someone is angry/mad.

So it turns out, I’m actually not mad all the time. And in all honesty I’m not angry all the time, but my husband only sees me at the end of every very long day, where I have been talked to TOO much, asked TOO many questions, touched WAY too many times, NOT sat down, NOT peed by myself, had to talk TOO many people out of back breaking meltdowns and tantrums, convinced TOO many people that a scratch was not going to kill them and did not need 4 bandaids, cleaned up the high chair from 3 meals, picked up a gallon size amount of food up off the floor from around the high chair, wiped every bottom and changed clothes…

As God’s children, we are all born with sin. Anger itself is not a sin. Sin is a transgression against God. Sometimes we as Christian women might confuse our anger with thinking we’ve sinned, and that only messes more with our ability to think rationally and reasonably. I can tell you that anger always makes me think IRrationally, and UNreasonably.

Anger has 3 forms, raise your hand if it’s:

immediately explosive and blowing up
stewing, brewing
irritability, exasperation or resentment.

Silent anger is just as offensive to God as explosive anger. How are you prone to express your anger? Throwing a plate at the wall? Slamming doors? Yelling at the kids? Blaming their spilled cup or plate on all the other angry things in your life?

Here are some things that make me angry:

-being hot
-my shirt being pulled down by kids
-stubbing my pinky toe again and again
-“Momma, Momma, Momma, Momma, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, MA! MA! MA! MA!” “WHAT?!” ok hopefully you all know that form Family Guy
-the thought of any child going hungry or living with people who don’t love them and tell them they’re loved and hug them and rock them
-the presidential race this year
-the retired community in Myrtle Beach who think that they’ve lived a hard 67 years and cut me off with their shopping carts or don’t hold open doors for me or keep driving when they see I’m wearing 1 child and holding hands with 2 others.
-kids pulling my glasses off or whacking me in my glasses
-my guilt of the things that I haven’t gotten done yet.

Mandy Arioto, the president and CEO of MOPs and author of Starry-Eyed, wrote about that anger is like fire – it can be used to save the world or burn it. With all that power it is no wonder we don’t know what to do with it. And so me yelling at Davis at the end of the night is because I don’t really know what to do with all the fire inside of me.

Being a Christian woman, maybe we think that we’re not supposed to get angry. Mandy the president of MOPs said that’s why she finds Jesus so fascinating. “He got angry and was completely unpredictable. Even the friends he hung out with every day weren’t sure how he was going to respond in certain situations. One day he is embracing a woman who slept with a married guy, saving her from getting stoned to death, and the next day he is throwing tables around in the church and yelling at the religious leaders for creating rules that were too much for anyone to follow. Some people find this disturbing, a God who gets angry, but I would find it more disturbing to think about following a God who sees exploitation and injustice and does not get angry. After all, some things are worth getting angry about and other things are just inconveniences to be acknowledged. Anger is simply an emotion – what defines it is what we do with it.”

So here are some tips for what we can do with our anger, find a justice to the injustice:

So when I’m hot, I’ll just start taking my clothes off. If I’m not wearing a shirt there’s no shirt for a kid to pull down.

Instead of constantly stubbing my pinky toe, I’ll wear shoes.

When we see terrible things in the world, we won’t be tempted to be angry at God, we will be angry alongside God.

Kelly Gray, a licensed practical counselor, wrote a great article for Hello Dearest, the monthly MOPs newsletter, in July called The Roots of Anger. She describes having a safe word at her house. If someone declares themselves to be “flooded” or they suspect someone is flooded, the expectations for that moment must shift. Flooded means someone is totally overwhelmed, melting down, has lost their rational thinking and therefore is at a great risk to say or do something regrettable. Saying “I’m flooded” means get clear, slow down, stop speaking, don’t provoke and don’t corner.

This is me often. When I have obligated myself to too many obligations, whether out loud confirmations to friends for playdates or whether I’m thinking in my head all the obligations I have, like grocery shopping or running errands, I get flooded. But I have no one to take it out on except Davis at the end of the day. He hasn’t been there all day, but somehow I make it all his fault. That’s when he says “Why are you so angry?!”

Kelly Gray, that LPC I just mentioned said these are ways to get to the roots of your anger:

Make sure your spouse and close friends know your triggers. Say it to them out loud. “You know when you come home and it’s the end of the day and dinner isn’t cooked and the house is a mess and the kids are screaming and I need to wrap a present for our niece’s birthday?! I’m flooded.” This enables them to mobilize quickly to help ground and comfort you when you’re spinning out; a quick text to the right person in a hard moment can bring a dose of relief.
What doesn’t help moms get calmer or more patient is beating ourselves up, demanding patience from ourselves when we have none to give or never exploring our triggers and just hoping they don’t come back again.
So once you’ve figured out your roots of anger, and hopefully it’s really just anger and not true madness, figure out what you’re going to do with that anger. If you or someone you know have gone to counseling, hopefully they’ve learned cognitive behavioral therapy, which means: I can’t control the event or situation, only how I respond. Learning how to respond with your anger is key. It’s ok to be upset. Take a time out, say you’re flooded, take a walk, lock yourself in the bathroom. Pray about what is important to you: the health and safety of you and your family. Hopefully you can return to the situation in a better state.

Uncommon Fellowship

2016-10-19T18:14:00.000-04:00

I have a secret pal at work who really "gets" me. The thing about not knowing who the gift giver is - is really quite fun and leaves a lot of room for interpertation of gifts. When school started, I noticed so many teachers with super cute Scout bags that I had never seen before. I LOVED them. I jotted down on my running to-do list, "Find and buy Scout bag". No lie, the next day, said amazing secret pal has left ah-maz-ing Scout bag in my classroom. Be still my heart.

To me, the joy of a secret pal, is the unexpected extension of kindness, without the giver being given the opportunity to watch how it is received and doing it anyway! Many times the best part of giving a gift is watching the recipient open it! The Secret Pal doesn't have that opportunity unless they are way more mission impossible than I am. A few weeks ago I received another precious, attentively packaged gift from my pal. I was touched by the items in the bag. They had personal connections to me. Fast Forward to today, my pal had left another package in my room. Spoiled, I know. Hashtag Blessed. Lol.

I didn't have a chance to open my package at work today. Instead, while waiting in a car rider pick up line, I savored a still moment and decided to open my gift. Inside the box was a very intentional arrangement of my life. The mash up of things inside would look very random to most, but to me, it was the uncommon fellowship of my heart. In the midst of camo, a cross, lipstick and coffee, I saw my reflection. Not knowing the giver of the gift, I can't ask how she knew the very thoughts inside my head. But, somehow, I have just very recently found myself awkwardly comfortable in my own skin. Comfortable with the many facets of my life that would make some people say, hmmm. Truthfully, at times, make me say "hmm" when I think about my winding path in life and how I arrived here! The more I surrender, daily, to Christ, the more comfort I'm finding in who He made me - camo - and all! Who knew?!

But, what I also loved about this very thoughtful gift was the humor in it. You see, lately, I've decided to try to not take myself and life so seriously. Can you see the nail file?... "I never realized how funny I was until I started talking to myself" hit the nail on the head! The hunting socks were inside of the coffee mug when I unpacked my gift. And look closely, do you see what is sitting on top of them in the picture? La Cucaracha was in the coffee mug. It made me laugh out loud. To me, it was a sweet reminder that I am a mom of boys so no matter how much lipstick I put on... I am still going to have a major "ewww" factor to deal with each day. It made me think of the woods. It made me think of how in my love for the woods, I still have to deal with the "yuck" in the midst of the beauty. The bugs, the plants that keep you up all night scratching and dare I even say the word, red bugs. The little plastic cockroach in the cup, whether intentional or not (I think it was...), also made me think of myself. In what could be perceived as a randomly assorted package was the uncommon fellowship of my life. The pieces that make me, me. The dichotomy of the sweetness of chocolate next to a plastic cockroach reminded me of my Christian walk. You see, in the sweetness of Christ, when He illuminated my life, He makes the things (sin) that scurry in the darkness flee.

The more I seek Him, the more He illuminates. When I don't seek Him daily and lose my way, the things that make me say, "ewww" begin to creep, scurry to find a stronghold over me. But, that is the part that is so often forgotten about a Christian walk. Christ is IN me, but Christ is not me. I am a hot mess. Perfectly, imperfect. I struggle. My flesh and my soul disagree, a lot. Knowing Christ hasn't made it easier. In fact, it's harder. Before I had a relationship with Christ, it was easy to just give in to my fleshly desires no matter the consequences. But along with indulging, was assuming the consequences of my actions and the weight of my sin with no hope for restoration.

I choose the struggle now. I choose the hope I've found in Him and I am boastful about being a hot mess because in my weakness, He is strong! In Corinthians, Paul speaks of a thorn in His flesh that he has asked Christ to take from him over and over. Christ responds by saying "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Paul then says, "Therefore I will BOAST ALL THE MORE GLADLY ABOUT MY WEAKNESSES, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." So when I say I'm a hot mess, I mean it. I've asked God to take certain struggles over and over and over again. He hasn't. And, I know it is because that is WHERE He is refining my life and where He continues to receive the glory for who I used to be and who He is making me.

Stay with me...I have a point...

The good, the bad, the ugly in the little package of me isn't surprising to Christ. He sees my assortment of "stuff" in my box and says, I made YOU in my image ...now, let me work all of this stuff (the sweet stuff and the things that scurry) and let me transform them for good, for my Glory. It's like He looks at us and says, "Let me allow you to play a role that is so much bigger than YOU - How about you be a reflection of me?!"

Is it easy? No. He's Christ. Is it worth it? Yes!

I had the incredible opportunity to attend the Catalyst Leadership Conference in Atlanta last week. This year's theme was, Uncommon Fellowship. The beautiful take away I had was about who Jesus actually is and not the "Jesus-in-a-box" that churched and unchurched people can put him in. Jesus loved and still loves people. The good, the bad, the ugly. The unclean, the unsaved, the unrighteous. The messy, the sinful, the stumbling, the striving, the redeemed, the clean, the people like me. The people, like you.

At Catalyst, Andy Stanley said, "Imagine a world that is skeptical of what we believed, but were envious of how we treated one another."

How about we stop using Christ to condemn others and simply start by using Christ as our example of how to love them?

What if, like my secret pal did, we paid attention to the people around us? That we loved them for who they are and where they are in life. Even if that means, camo socks, chocolate and cockroaches! Will we prioritize UNITY over our own views of christianity? Are we willing to look past our own version of faith to unite as ONE BODY. Though each one of us is "packaged" definitely, the thing we have in common as Christ followers is Jesus. In the words of Pastor Stanley, "If your theology separates you, from sinners like you, you may have some work to do." Unselfish love, fuels uncommon fellowship. Do unto others as Christ has done for you. By this everyone will know THAT you are His disciples.

So, if you had a secret pal packing a gift for you, your box is going to look different than mine. It's going to be delivered to a different place than mine. It's going to have it's own version of you in it. My box isn't better than yours. Your box isn't better than mine. However, they are different and the purposes of the contents inside, are left to be determined by the recipient of the gift. And, the gift alone is aw-inspiring because it is made in the image of Christ, no matter the contents.

Maybe, we as people, could decide that we can't all be right, but we can be one. We can find uncommon fellowship in our political, religious, cultural, fill-in-the-blank differences. Our uniqueness in who the Creator made us to be and the unifying blood of Jesus Christ unites us in His great commission on earth...love. Love one another, as I have loved you.

I'm pretty certain my secret pal wouldn't expect my interpretation of her gift to arrive here. I'm sure she thought she was just doing something really nice. Showing a little love. Hashtag, she's awesome. But you know what, maybe that is the point. Maybe your act of love towards someone, however great or small, will lead them to place beyond what you could imagine. Maybe YOU and your love will be the first glimpse of who Christ really is and the LOVE he shows. Maybe YOU will be the catalyst for change in our world.

Enough in His Eyes

2016-10-17T21:43:00.001-04:00

Late. Running late. Good intentions haven’t made me early yet. Missed voicemails, unreturned phone calls, forgotten play dates, overdue library books and uncooked family dinners. Missed field trips due to work obligations, forgotten lunch boxes at home. Leftovers. Chicken. Leftovers. Chicken a-la-whatsinthepantry, again. Laundry pile building, tempers toppling. Rushed bedtimes with no story, hurried breakfast in the car, overbooked day planner and under used devotional.

A day in the life of “the struggle is real - Girl, you better pray!". I’ve noticed that not feeling like I’m “enough” is not an isolated struggle. Many of those around me are feeling the same way. And, I don’t, for a minute, believe it’s a feeling meant for us. For me, I believe it’s Satan’s backdoor to my confidence. Since He cannot take my calling, He tries to derail my confidence. He distracts me just enough… to the point of the people pleasing carousel. Round and round I go. Short drive home from car rider pick up with car pool kiddos. Lost in thought, no room in mind to entertain conversations from car riders today.

Am I being an intentional mom? Maybe I should do it like she does.

Am I a good wife? Um, shoot.

Am I being a good teacher? Remembrance of room full of Mama's volunteering their time today to paint scarecrows out of preschoolers feet. Suddenly realizing that I had put on their proverbial plates the expectation of "showing up" even when their schedules were full. I then sent said t-shirts home in the wrong book bag. The right book bag looked identical to the wrong book bag. Embarrassing conversation with parent (thankfully a friend) why the t-shirts were missing and trying to figure out whose book bag they went home in. Even more embarrassing phone call to confused parent (in a different grade...long story) who received the t-shirts. Fail. Whomp, whomp.

Am I being a good friend? I missed the birthday party, the girls night out, the baby shower...

Have I been to the gym today? Not today, not yesterday, not last week….or the week before. Darn it.

Did I send the birthday gift? The birthday that was in August. That was for my nephew. Crap. I'm a bad Aunt. No.

And on and on and on.

While I drove home today with a car full of laughter, noise and conversation behind me, my soul was quiet enough to listen. Listen to yourself, Jenny. Girl, get it together. Ok. So everyone is fed and clothed. Win. Everyone made it to school, on time, with lunch boxes and folders, today. Win.

Recently though, I find myself being humbled over and over by the inability to juggle so much. Then, I fail to extend grace to myself as I watch the bouncing balls drop. Today in the case of the missing class t-shirts, I felt so overcome by the fact that I couldn't juggle it all well. After explaining to the parents who were involved, I felt so embarrassed. What must they think of me? Driving home, I started praying, God, maybe that was it just it, maybe...again...I've become so concerned with what others think of me, that I've lost sight of His expectation of me. Maybe, I've said "yes" to the expectations of the world so much so that my hands are full, fulfilling the idol of others, that my heart can't hold Pleasing Others AND His will for my life so, I've now resorted to juggling what I'm called to do with what I think I should do.

I know I'm not alone. I know so many over scheduled, under rested Mamas who just don't feel like they are enough. After praying about it this afternoon, I found peace in knowing that how I feel isn't congruent with who I am. I feel insufficient. But, my God is enough. His grace washes over me like the ocean waves time and time again. While checking backpacks, and listening to the recaps of school days from my boys, I heard a knock on the door.

When I went to open it, there she was...the Mama, the friend, who I felt so embarrassed that she witnessed me dropping the ball, losing the t-shirts and sending her a reminder for a date that was wrong, for something important, when I thought her expectation of me was so much greater than I was able to do today. There she was. Card in tow. Present in hand. Humor to serve up a slice of grace with the lemons that I was juggling. A tangible expression of grace, through humor, answered my prayer. God, Am I enough? She came to tell me that she was thankful I was her child's teacher on the very same day that, in my eyes, I had failed some pretty simple tasks.

Sometimes, we just need to not take ourselves so seriously. Sometimes, we just need to receive the grace that we are given. Sometimes, we just need to be reminded that even when we feel like we are not enough, His grace is sufficient. His measure of me is not by me being enough, it is by me being His. He whispers to me in the midst of my striving, "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 in me." - 2 Corinthians 12:9. Look out world, based on the past several days, it is clear, He is at work in me. My weakness, His strength.

Through His eyes, I look pretty good. Short comings and all, He calls me His. So, I say, I'm with Him. You know, the Creator of the Universe. He thinks I'm enough..so maybe I should start to trust that. Maybe, "No" is the new "Yes". Saying "No" to perceived expectations that I assign myself of what others need from me is saying, "Yes" to being all it is that God has created me to be. Insufficiently, sufficient for the Creator of the universe, my Master, to mold me into what He chooses to make of me....and He can do the same for you.

Speak Life Giveaway

2016-10-02T13:14:00.001-04:00

Speak Life Giveaway

by Beth Massey

I love it when God knits moments together. For the last three weeks, my pastor, Trey Kelly, has been leading our church through a series entitled “Sticks and Stones: They May Break Bones butWords Can Change a Life.” We’ve learned how much weight our words carry, what they reveal about the condition of our hearts, how we can heal our hearts through our Savior and begin to communicate in a more Christ-like way with others. It has been a game-changer for me personally. While on a long run this Tuesday, I was listening to a podcast of pastor Craig Groeschel’s sermon “The Language ofRevival” from Elevation Church’s Code Orange Revival. He covered a related topic – that we should never underestimate the power of even one small word of encouragement. He asked a question. How often do we think of a blessing, but fail to share it? How often do we think something nice about someone else, but fail to say it? What if that one thing you held back might have made their day, or perhaps changed the course of their life?

These two men are amazing at what they do, so I won’t even attempt to expand on their teachings here. Instead, I have a little mission for you, friends. I’d simply like you to take some time to listen to their sermons found at the links above. Then, I’d like you to bless someone with a kind word, a genuine compliment or a word of encouragement. If you are willing to share that blessing publicly in the comments of this post on our One39Fourteen Facebook page and tag the blessed friend, your name will be ENTERED TO WIN a water bottle with the One 39 Fourteen logo. Just as there is no limit to the reach of your kindness, there is no limit to the number of times you may enter to win. If you bless and tag one person, your name will be entered once. If you bless and tag ten people, your name will be entered ten times. The last day to enter is Friday, October 7^th. The winner will be announced the following day. So, dial up those sermons and get ready to SPEAK LIFE!

I'm fighting a heroin addiction.

2016-09-22T22:48:00.001-04:00

I'm fighting a heroin addiction and I've never stuck a needle in my arm, between my toes, or anywhere else on my body. You see, I am the sibling of an addict. You don't hear about me on the news. You don't read about me in the paper. And, quite frankly, I'm not quick to share with you because I'm consumed with so much shame that isn't mine to carry. You see, suddenly, the world is speaking of this addiction but I've been living the headlines for years. Before it was an epidemic, before it made its way onto the front page of your papers, it was the front page of my life. As a matter of fact, the headlines changed with the current events. From cigarettes, to beer, to marijuana, to prescription pills taken from cabinets, to drugs I am so unaware of that I cannot even list. My brother's heroin addiction is not my story to tell. But, what I've learned over the years, my story as a sister to an addict is equally important. I am worthy of telling my story.

Broken. Addicts are broken. We, addicts or not, are all broken. Hurt people, hurt people. The wounds of living with a drug addict are deep. When I believe the wound has healed in my adulthood, my adult brother, in his disease, finds a way to tear the scab off in his desperation for the next high and the infection seeps from the old wound. Far removed. Miles away. Years later. It still seeps. Counseling. Self-help books, self-coping, and every other avenue under the sun to cope....leaving me a at a place of realization that the only thing a sibling of an addict has the control to do is take control of myself.

I cannot force my hope for who I wish my brother would be on him in hopes that he will change. We passed that years ago. I cannot explain to my own children who are surprised to learn that I have a brother, why they do not know him.

I cannot reconcile the hurt, the pain, the disappointment and the infection that the disease of drug addiction has on the family of an addict.

I cannot pretend that this piece of my story doesn't exist any longer.

What I can say is that Christ wastes nothing and will work all things according to His purposes for those who love Him. I do not know the future of my brother's soul. But, I do know the revelation the Holy Spirit has provided me in the midst of such pain, such misery, such suffering. I do know the freedom of breaking the bondage of shame by bringing it into the light and being vulnerable enough to say, "Yes! Hello! My name is Jenny and my brother is a convicted felon, a heroin addict and so broken it ripes my heart from my chest. Over, and over and over again."

That alone is only the tip of the iceberg. One cannot begin to know whats buried under the water, unless you yourself are connected to an addict. In my very broken, imperfect journey to truly beginning a relationship with Christ, I made and still make many mistakes. I am so thankful being addicted to drugs is not one of them.

It's not that my brother cannot stop doing drugs, but that he has NOT stopped yet. He has hit below the rock bottom of our wildest imagination. But, yet somehow, the fear of sitting with his sober self is more terrifying than the life he lets feed his addiction. His soul is so broken that he is willing, at all costs, to feed his addiction.

In high school, I experienced first hand living under the same roof as my brother, the wreckage that follows the unforgiving storm of addiction that can destroy everything in its path. At that point in my life I was so angry with God. I found comfort, a healthy distraction and some success in soccer. I began to pour my whole self into soccer. Soccer was my escape. But, God's plan for my future looked different than my own. I was determined to get a scholarship to play at a college in Ohio so my parents could travel to my games. After beginning to chase hard after this dream, at 15, I tore my ACL and had reconstructive surgery on my left knee. After months of rehabilitating, so eager to compete again, in a meaningless indoor match, I tore my right ACL. I knew instantly when it happened. I chose to accept it, have surgery to repair the damaged cartilage but not the damaged ligament. I played my senior year with a torn ACL in hopes of fulfilling my dream to still have the chance to play college ball. By the end of my senior season, my dreams of playing in college were as shredded as the ligament inside my knee shown on the MRI. My knees were done. My hope was lost.

At 18 years old, through a divine interruption, God changed the course of my forever by literally picking me up and moving me 12 hours away from the shame I was carrying in a small town where everyone knew who my brother was and for all the wrong reasons. Little did I understand at the time that losing my ability to play soccer enabled me to expand my realm of possibilities for college and changed the course of my future.

Even though God had already set into motion his plans to deliver me from the weight of the burden I felt being affected daily by my brother's addiction, I was angry, lost and no longer a part of a team. I no longer had my escape, my peaceful place, my field of dreams. So, now far from home where no one knew me, I no longer felt the need to be perfect. I no longer felt the immense pressure I put on myself to not bring any more shame upon my parents. Not having a team, a dream to chase or soccer practice to keep me focused, I decided that the whole God thing wasn't really working for me anymore. I stopped seeking Him and starting searching for fun. Thankfully, God is gracious, patient, and relentlessly pursued me until I returned to Him my junior year of college. I am forever grateful for friends who loved me at my worst and wouldn't allow me to forget the God who was desperately chasing my heart.

I share this piece of my story because now with hindsight, I know God split the sea so I could walk right through it. He delivered me from my own Egypt. My own slavery of bondage to the chains and the shame of my brother's addiction in a small town where everyone knew. And, even when I lost myself in the process and turned my back on Christ, He never left me.

I have carried the burden, the regret, the shame, the brokenness, and the hurt of his addiction for 20 years. Very recently, I laid it down at the feet of Christ. I did not let it go. I laid it down. I surrendered. I cannot fix him. I cannot wish him into being the brother I hoped for. I cannot allow my hope for who I wish my brother was to cloud the reality of who my brother actually is in his addiction. So where does that leave me? How do I proceed as an adult now, when my brother is still stuck ?! My heart hurts for him but, I realize that His brokenness is not mine to mend. My heart hurts accepting that what I so desperately want to change, I cannot. His brokenness, truly, is no greater than mine. However, in our brokenness, our choices to seek righteousness are. It's one thing to be sober, it's another to be saved. In the midst of the intense, unimaginable grip of addiction is also the reality that one must be slightly insane to fuel a dark pit with such a great cost.

Rock bottom is often the catalyst for change. In his brokenness, my brother endured a pistol wiping, which I'm sure was drug related, so badly that he was in an ICU for 2 weeks and a nursing home for an entire YEAR. However, the trajectory of his path has not changed. Insanity settles when hope is lost but behavior does not change. How can one's soul choose such darkness over the painful rawness of sitting with a sober self? I do not know. What I do know is that we are all broken. We all have our issues, our burdens, our fears, and our hopes. What I'm learning is that his shame is not my cross to carry. Jesus already paid it all for him should He choose to receive it. He is also not mine to fix or have anxiety and depression over. In my suffering of being the sibling of a heorin addict, Christ has shown me mercy in my own failures, my own sins and my own shame.

And, as I said, He has also shown me that just as my brother is not mine to fix, AND He is no longer mine to judge. (He never was..but I happily assumed that role). Christ is showing me that in all of this, it is my responsibility to do my part to ensure that I am not allowing the cycle to continue. That I am not sitting around waiting for divine intervention to come while I sit in a pew with my arms crossed. I refuse to be like the man at the Pool of Bethesda. In John 5:3 we read, "In these lay a great multitude of sick people, blind, lame, paralyzed, waiting for the moving of the water. For an angel went down at a certain time into the pool and stirred up the water; then whoever stepped in first, after the stirring of the water, was made well of whatever disease he had. Now a certain man was there who had an infirmity of thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in the condition a long time, he said to him, "Do you want to be made well?" The sick man answered, "Sir I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; but while I am coming, another steps down before me." Jesus said to him, "Rise, take your bed and walk. And immediately the man was made well, took up his bed, and walked."

38 years lying besides a pool of healing and waiting for someone to MOVE wasn't working! Christ came and said, RISE! Get up! Take your mat and be healed.

In the text of the serenity prayer that most of us know is,

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

The courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference."

But, what many of us do not know is the rest of the prayer.....

Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.

So, in my own brokenness from living as a sibling of someone suffering from the disease of addiction, at 34 years old, I surrender. I cannot fix, change or redo the past. All I can do is have the courage to change my role in the future of my brother's life. It isn't easy, but we were never promised easy. I truly believe nothing is wasted, if you know Christ.

My freedom from his heroin addiction doesn't begin with him. It begins with me. Is there pain? Yes. Will there be pain in breaking free? Yes! But, I now have the courage to change the things, in my control, that should be changed. Shame no longer has a grip on me. This is my story. Because he is a heroin addict, I'm fighting the addiction, too. Whether I like it or not, needles in my arm or not, this is the story I've been handed. But, it is up to me to choose the ending for my own self, not for him. At 34 years old, I've finally realized the only thing I am able to do is take responsibility for what I can do. Surrender. Surrender all. The shame, the anger, the un-forgiveness, the brokenness, the regret, the embarrassment, the fault, the false hope, and the idea that I can will myself into fixing anyone.

So before stepping up to the plate of change, I kneel at the throne and receive restoration for myself, and the hope for my future because I know Christ's plans are good.

I see myself in the paralyzed man at the Pool of Bethesda or like the paralyzed man in Matthew 9 that Jesus spoke to. I hear him telling me true change can only come with faith AND action. Matthew 9:4 says, "Which is easier: to say your sins are forgiven, or to say, "Get up and walk? ...So he said to the paralyzed man, Get up, take your mat and go home.Then the man got up and went home. When the crowd saw this, they were filled with awe: and they praised God, who had given such authority to man."

Today I chose to share this story with you not so you can think highly of me or feel pity on me, but so that you can see the great GLORY of God in the midst of the mess. And, to know that if you too are walking through the awful grip of an addiction yourself, or a loved one, you too, can rise, pick up your mat and receive the healing and forgiveness that can restore your wounded soul.

Irritable Mom, to Intentional Mom: A Shift in Perspective

2016-09-05T08:06:00.001-04:00

Weekends during deer season have always been a bit bittersweet for me. Sweet in that my husband, who loves to hunt, adores this time of year. But, for me, it left me home alone on the weekends for many Saturdays and various other early mornings or late afternoons throughout the season. This girl truly does not mind a quiet house but week after week it started to weigh heavy on me. Instead of celebrating with him when he had a great story to share of the next deer for the freezer I started to resent the whole thing.

Dove Season

All the while, I watched as my husband was diligent to share his love of the outdoors with our sons, meaning sacrificing many hunting opportunities to instead sit in a deer stand with a symphony of snack wrappers opening and the echoes of curiosity in loudly whispered voices - filled with questions from little boys. His love was becoming their love, time together in the woods.

Meanwhile, in my moments of "Deer Depression", I realized I could only appreciate so many solo trips to the store, quiet moments at home, coffee dates with girlfriends or even an occasional pedicure while the boys were out in the woods. Eventually the wonder of having free moments to myself after years of baby wearing (literally) faded away quickly. While I still love time for myself, my greater desire is to spend time with my family and create memories that my sons can carry with them when I'm no longer their "go to" person in life.

My seven year old's window is already beginning to narrow for that very special time in life when it is me, his mom, who (in his eyes) knows most of the answers to his questions and is right up there in ranks with his Pokemon cards, Magic Treehouse Books and all things sugar coated. But, I know the day is coming when those cards and books are gathering dust on the shelf as he moves on to another stage of life...a stage where instead of his mom knowing the answers to his questions, I will be the mom who doesn't understand and who isn't fair.

Something has changed. I can't quite describe it or exactly put my finger on specifically when it happened. I've switched from the irritable mom to the intentional mom. From the resentful wife to the repentful wife. Time is too precious to be wasted in anger.

With that change, I'm learning to offer myself as a willing participant in hobbies once unimaginable to me because of my unconditional love for them. And you know what, the strangest thing has occurred, when I began investing my whole self in their interests, slowly, over time, and quite honestly, by the Holy Spirit alone, their interests have become my interests! But, let's be honest, this isn't about time in the woods, hunting, or fast boy toys to find mud...it's about spending time with the ones I love. If I have to meet them in the mud to do it, wait a minute while I get my boots.

Who knew polished nails and pistols go together?! Hunter Boots can actually be worn by hunters?! Camo can be classy and this mom of boys can learn new tricks for the sake of my love for my family.

I love being a mom of boys. Sure, there is definitely a piece of me that would love to experience bows, dolls and maybe dare I say, the American Doll Store. However, God saw it fit to give me bows & arrows, decoys and The Bass Pro Shop.

I'm done fighting it. I've surrendered all and have been surprised to discover how much I, too, enjoy it. Not because of what we are doing but because who I am doing it with.

My unexpected passion for the outdoors reminds me a lot of my relationship with Christ. He has done unimaginable works in my life that at times leave me lacking words to explain. The more I offer all that I am to Him, the more I see myself falling in love with the plans He has for me, even if at one time they were unimaginable . Because of my desire to have a relationship with Christ, I'm willing to go for a walk in the woods or have a seat in a deer stand if that is where He is asking me to go.