Renewed Heart

A New Year; a New Venture

2014-01-16T16:30:00.002-08:00

In my silence over the past few weeks, I've been working on my new site over here. Join me as we ride the rollercoaster together!

What Will You Give?

2013-12-21T08:06:00.002-08:00

Every year at Christmas two prominent questions circulate through families: “What do you want?” and “What did you get?” If we aren’t intentional, the idea of giving takes a back seat to our own wish lists of toys and treasures.

After the celebrations are over, how often do we ask this question, “What did you give for Christmas?” And, how do we teach our children about the joy of giving when we bombard them with questions about what they want? Don’t misunderstand me. I love the excitement of surprising my children with things under the tree and watching their faces light up when I open a gift they’ve specially chosen for me. But, how do we, who have been blessed with so much, extend beyond our four walls and demonstrate to those who have nothing that we care? Jesus, the most costly gift ever given, came for all humanity, including the poor and downtrodden. If we do nothing to reach out, what example are we setting for our families? Will that not perpetuate self-centeredness?

Most years we purchase gifts for children through the Salvation Army Angel Tree program. Every year, with a deadline looming, I frantically shop for gifts with minutes to spare and lug them to the drop off site. The announcement at dinner, “Hey, I bought gifts today from our family for a little girl who wouldn’t have any presents under the tree,” falls flat evidenced by their impassionate, uninvolved nods.

Like the contests that require one to be present to win, so children must participate to learn the inestimable value of giving. So this year for the first time, my daughter, Maddie and I trudged through stores searching for just the right things for two girls. How much better to have my daughter with me to save these girls from some serious fashion faux pas had I been shopping solo!

After delivering the bags of gifts, the field trip experience began to impact Maddie’s mind. She asked, “So, you mean, this is all these girls are going to receive for Christmas?”

“Yes, Maddie.”

“And, they won’t know we gave it to them?”

“Nope.”

“Wow! That’s really cool, Mom. They can’t even repay us or say thank you.”

“No, it’s just like what Jesus did for us when he came as a baby. He gave with no strings, and we can never repay him.”

After a bit of silence, my 12-year-old wistfully whispered, “I sure wish I could see their faces when they open those gifts.”

“Me too, Maddie. Me too.”

I know the One who gave us Himself sees those young girls open the small gifts we gave in His name. And now, my daughter sees as well—that we can impact the world around us—one gift of love at a time.

What will you give this Christmas?

photo credit: amandacphoto via photopin cc

Dealing with Disappointment

2013-11-21T15:24:00.000-08:00

Last week, while out of the country with my hubby, I received a distressing email from a colleague removing me from a writing project. It wasn’t her decision, and while she tried to spill the beans as gently as possible, the news still wounded, inflamed jealousy, and incited anger. My head understood the reasons why, but my heart felt that I deserved more for the hours logged tapping keys. Ill-timed in the middle of a glorious trip in the Serengeti Desert, perhaps the earth-shattering update could’ve waited for a face to face conversation. Still, there's no such thing as perfect timing for painful news, is there?

Life is filled with the unexpected, isn’t it? We never anticipate what is around the next bend in the road. Most of the time, we truck along without thinking about any potential head-on crashes or side swipes. We don’t anticipate someone or something interrupting our smooth sailing, and in a split second, life changes.

The surprising diagnosis of breast cancer, startling death of a loved one, abrupt end of a marriage, miscarriage in late pregnancy, estranged family relationship, unplanned pregnancy, loss of a writing job can happen as sudden as it takes to send an email across the world. Unfortunately, I know real live people, including me, who have been the recipients of such devastating reports in recent days.

Unfortunately, sucking in breath on God’s green earth equates to facing disappointment at some point. I can’t press the escape or delete key when it comes to tragedy. Because I live in a broken world, unforeseen events come with the territory. I can choose, however, how I respond to these unplanned catastrophes.

My human nature cries, “Unfair!” I certainly deserve better than this, right?! The very phrase I spout so quickly to my children comes ringing back in my ear, “Life is not fair.” It’s so much easier to say than experience. The two year old in me emits its ugly self as I pout and stomp my feet in rebellion against this unpredicted bend in the road. I didn’t ask for this interruption, and the world will know it.

Yet, there is another way to handle these crises that crash into my life without warning. I’ve coined it, “But…God,” simply because when I frame the disruption of my plan in the light of His purpose, my perspective changes. Down deep, I am convinced God desires the best for me, so I know He will somehow work good in even this out of the blue predicament. And yes, the Enemy lurks, evil abounds and life happens, so I shouldn’t be surprised that my journey feels like a roller coaster that jumped off the tracks.

Still, God promises His presence always, in every situation, no matter how ugly. And I’ve witnessed that truth firsthand—through divorce, single-parenting, financial pressures, parenting teens, difficult family relationships and now this writing obstacle. I don’t understand God’s plan and purpose, but He sees what I do not see. His vision is perfect; mine is flawed. Thus, while I deal with disappointment and specifically this setback, I trust God to work more of His character in me and reveal my new direction.

What disappointments have you faced? What has been your typical response?

“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.” Romans 5:3-5 NLT

Caring for Creation

2013-10-28T17:24:00.003-07:00

Last night I dreamed about riding the transit bus. Weird? Yes! But, it’s “waste” week in The 7 Experiment Study, so I’ll chalk it up to that. Like you might be, I was confused about what this week entailed. If you guessed recycling, gardening, buying local, shopping thrift and second-hand, conserving energy and water, composting and driving only one car (hence, the bus dream), you win the prize.

Why is it these fasting weeks occur at the most inopportune times in my life? My hubby and I are traveling in a week, and I need to purchase last minute articles at Target, not mom and pop stores. Not to mention, our Roof-Crasher’s (aka RC) Bible study will be packing Operation Christmas Child boxes this week, and I’d like to buy the needed items at a cheap chain store where I can use coupons. Can that count as being thrifty? And, sharing a car doesn’t work in a family that spends four days a week driving to gymnastics an hour away. Gardening? If only summer would return, I’d be planting before you could say zucchini. October has my permission to chase Old Man Winter into Never Never Land.

Sarcasm aside, waste week for me will be a hodgepodge of elements. Since we already recycle, drive a hybrid, organize errands strategically in order to conserve time and gas, consume leftovers, monitor our home electricity and gas, what else could we possibly do? Honestly, thrift store shopping fell off my list of options the minute I read it. I can’t even stomach garage sales (sorry, dad).

One area that I should incorporate into my regular lifestyle is buying from local vendors. I struggle with this mostly because I clip coupons to save money. It’s difficult to justify buying local when I am saving money for my family. Yet, wouldn’t that be the best way to support small businesses in my community? I have also been lax when it comes to bringing my own recycled bags to the grocery store. Week after week they lay in the dark trunk of my car, but I continuously forget to bring them inside the store.

So, I’ve placed two additional goals on my list this week: buying local and using recycled bags.

In her study, Jen Hatmaker quotes from Wendell Berry’s book, What are People For?:

“The ecological teaching of the Bible is simply inescapable: God made the world because He wanted it made. He thinks the world is good, and He loves it. It is His world; He has never relinquished title to it. And He has never revoked the conditions, bearing on His gift to us of the use of it, that oblige us to take excellent care of it. If God loves the world, then how might any person of faith be excused for not loving it or justified in destroying it?”

Yes. Exactly.

Photo courtesy of Apple's Eyes Studio, FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Going Offline

2013-10-26T08:26:00.003-07:00

Thirty years ago, media encompassed television and radio. That’s it. Nothing else. No one owned personal computers. The internet lived in someone’s head. Al Gore’s, so I’m told! IPhones and iPads didn’t exist. Responding to a phone message might take days instead of minutes. No one Googled anything or Facebooked anyone. And a “pin” was something you wore on a sweater not put on your Pinterest board.

Giving up media for seven days might have been a bit easier than it is today. Approaching this week in The 7 Experiment, by Jen Hatmaker, gave me anxiety. Thus far, I’ve fasted a week in food, clothes, possessions, and now this tough area. Unplug completely? Very tough in this age of texting, emailing, internet surfing, and Facebook stalking.

My plan for the week seemed doable. NO Facebook; no Words with Friends or Dice Buddies (sorry, friends); necessary texts only; use of computer only for sending and responding to necessary emails, writing and homeschool purposes; one hour of television a day.

Sigh. I failed miserably. All texts became vitally important. And, movies don’t count as television, do they? How about watching the Colts beat the Broncos? My husband told me neither was “technically” television, and since I must submit to his leadership…Well, you know the rest of the story, folks. Then, before I realized it, I read someone’s blog post. Oops! I wasn’t supposed to do that. It reminds me of the few times (almost nonexistent, in fact) I’ve eliminated sweets from my diet and remembered right in the middle of eating a piece of chocolate cake. Unexplainably, however, the one area I did not cheat was Facebook even though 14 notifications taunted me.

So, what’s the point of all this besides realizing that I’m a failure at a full-blown media fast…and I’m not sure I really want to do this ever again?

Creating space for quiet, contemplation and communication is important. If I’m always plugged in, how can this possibly occur? When family moments are dominated by texting, viewing television and surfing the internet, true connection can’t happen. I’m just as guilty as my children at letting media distract me from truly being with people. When I hear the ding of a text message while conversing with my hubby, I’m distracted and driven to read it promptly. Finishing an email or reading an article on the computer becomes more important than my child’s concern. I too often let the media device displace the person present.

This week, I was less preoccupied with gadgets and more engaged with my family and friends. The Facebook world interacted without me, and quite honestly, I didn’t miss some of the emotions that rise from posted statuses, like political rants and inappropriate public displays of affection. And, since my status stayed silent, I didn’t intermittently pop on Facebook to check my “likes”.

This morning marked the end of my fast. Immediately, after clicking on Facebook and scrolling through the newsfeed, jealousy flashed like Fireworks on the 4^th of July. While Facebook employs positive community elements, it also exacerbates a few emotions with which I struggle. This short absence from Facebook gave me a reprieve from the daily flaring of those ugly feelings.

The most significant lesson I grasped during this absence of media (except for my propensity to justify cheating), is the misplaced priority I’ve given to some modes. Because Facebook was removed from my diet, I looked for different ways to interact. I took opportunities to meet with local friends, and focus undistracted on my family. My multi-tasking excuse—I can play games on the Ipad, talk to my daughter, search the internet, and text brilliantly at the same time—becomes a poor attempt to rationalize time management. However, I realized that I haven’t handled my time well, because I am distracted.

So, what if I didn’t return to media as usual? What if I ignored my phone’s chirps in order to be present with people? What if I checked Facebook once a day instead of sporadically all day? What If I determined to control my time, not let the call of media waste it?

Jen Hatmaker writes, “But I think if we shut down some of the noise and static, we might find more God, more neighborly love, more family, more life. May we be only under the control of Jesus who fills our minds with hope and truth and grace unending.”

Are you ready to shut out some noise, and be present with your peeps?

photo credit: Ed Yourdon via photopin cc

Broken and Unqualified

2013-10-19T09:09:00.003-07:00

Several years ago I sat facing Claudia, our women’s minister, with tears welling up, threatening to trickle down my face, making a mess of my mascara. Not a pretty sight to behold. The visit wasn’t what I expected. I had entered with an agenda in mind but received something entirely different.

For a few years, I had been involved in a women’s Bible study called Roof-Crashers, the name based on the Bible story in Luke 5 in which the friends crashed through the roof for the paralytic because they knew Jesus could heal him. I began as a participant, graduated to a table discussion facilitator, and most recently led the Connect team, which was created to provide a welcoming and warm environment for all attending the study. To say that I felt uncomfortable, inadequate and unqualified in these leadership roles is an understatement. Most of the time, I felt like a bunny living at the North Pole. Completely out.of.place.

The words that came from Claudia’s voice, however, were not those that questioned my ability, my talents, or my qualifications. She simply proclaimed, “You have leadership gifts. You are a leader. Will you help lead Roof-Crashers?”

I’d have turned up my hearing aids if I had any. Thoughts pinged in my brain like a pinball machine. What in the world is she talking about? Me, a leader? Me, lead Roof-Crashers, a Bible study of over 100 women? She must have me mixed up with someone else, because I wouldn’t even know what to do!

I would’ve looked around to locate the woman she was talking to, but I knew we were the only two in the office. What do you do with words that bring hope to a dying dream? Words that breathe life into a desire that was buried? Words that infuse soul into a subconsciously held belief that you nixed greater leadership opportunities due to a failed marriage? Let me tell you what happens.

You wake up from the lies the enemy has whispered to you. Oh, it’s not like I thought I was completely washed up or relegated to a bench warmer. It’s just that down deep in my heart, I figured that my failures limited my usability factor. After all, once people saw the big “D” on my sweater, they would fling me to the bin of botched break-ups, where I’d be relegated to behind the scene, second hand roles. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with that, but I certainly couldn’t serve in any greater capacity. I imagined whispers behind my back. “Why is she leading when she’s been divorced? If she couldn’t make her marriage work, why should we listen to her? What right does she have to be in this leadership position?”

When Claudia looked at me, however, she didn’t envision my past failure and write me off as unusable. Instead, she perceived that which even I did not see and spoke it into existence like God calling the sun, moon and stars into being. Her voice invited me to take a position that I thought reserved for the faultless and flawless.

Yet, if we look at biblical history, Jesus chose the broken, battered and beaten down to carry His message of unfailing love. Because they experienced His forgiveness and mercy, they were perfect examples to the lost. Who better to tell the message of grace than the woman at the well with five previous husbands and a live in boyfriend, or the woman caught in the act of adultery? Their culture rebuffed and rejected them, but Jesus spoke life-giving words into their souls, and they were filled with hope.

It’s when we recognize our brokenness that Jesus can breathe life into those painful places, and we can be used to spread His light to others who need a resurrection. When we realize that leading anyone is not about reaching a state of perfection, but about God working in and through our messy lives to reach a broken world, we rise up in His strength and power—even when we don’t know what the heck we are doing!

Our qualification to lead comes from Him calling us to use our broken pieces to summon the shattered to shine in a dark world.

In the middle of your muddled mess, let God renew your soul with His words of life to lead right where you are, right now!

photo credit: pedrosimoes7 via photopin cc

An Ordinary Day

2013-10-11T11:43:00.001-07:00

It's Five Minute Friday once again where many of us write for 5 minutes straight...the word is ordinary:

Ready? Go!

Devastating words can turn an ordinary day upside down.

It was an ordinary day, an ordinary trip to Taco Bell for the girls in the office, an ordinary drive back—almost 16 years ago. Until I walked in the door. Until my co-worker said that the pastor wanted to see me. Until I stepped into his office where my husband sat waiting.

Why was he here? What was going on? Thoughts breezed through my head like wind whipping through the trees.

Then the painful, heartbreaking words flew out. Words that flipped an ordinary day into the hardest in a matter of seconds. Words that ripped deep into my soul and made me feel less than, not enough and definitely ugly. Words that overturned my marriage in one instant.

Oh, how I longed to return to an ordinary day.

Stop!

How's Your Eyesight?

2013-10-10T15:52:00.002-07:00

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Matthew 6:21

If our treasures steer our hearts, what does it mean when women can tote boxes and bags of clothes, books, baby items, canned food and other miscellaneous objects to donate and still have a houseful of goodies? It’s surely a generous act to think of others in need; however, what does it say about us that we possess that much overflowing our closets and homes? That we can give away items we will miss as much as the $5.00 we drop at Starbucks without a second thought.

Almost the length of one wall in this massive room was piled with items going to 8 different organizations within the community and beyond: Crisis Pregnancy Center, My Sister’s Closet, Honduras, New Leaf New Life, Kirkwood Mealshare, Salvation Army, Shalom Center and Backstreet Missions. The idea behind “possessions” week, the 3^rd chapter in the Jen Hatmaker study, The 7 Experiment, involved giving away our castoffs to those less fortunate.

To get the back story regarding this particular study, read these earlier posts about food and clothes. The premise about possessions, according to Jen, is this: “How do we manage our wealth, financial priorities, and possessions with godliness and integrity?” Instantly convicting when I consider how American culture impacts and influences my decisions regarding the belongings with which I simply can’t survive. With brimming food pantries, bulging closets, bursting toy chests and wall-to-wall furniture, what possesses me to shove more into my four walls? And, just how large are my four walls?

Just think about it for a minute. When we get married, we most likely first reside in an itty bitty apartment with one bedroom, one bath, a kitchen and living room. We can’t buy too much or our furniture will push us out the door. My son and daughter-in-law live in an apartment like that with just barely enough room for a table that seats four and a small sectional.

However, as typical Americans, we save money so that someday we can purchase a larger space for our expanding family. God forbid we should live in an apartment for the rest of our lives and waste rent money. We need an investment and more acreage. After all, when we birth our children, they each need their own rooms and a colossal yard with a swing set and trampoline (with an enclosure, of course). Our new place will need a play room otherwise their bedrooms will be overrun with toys. Oh, and we need a bathroom for mommy and daddy, one for guests and perhaps a jack and jill for the little ones. We buy into this mentality because we drink the Kool-Aid, we live in America, and frankly, this is just how we do it here. So, we move into our new place after living in an apartment the size of an anthill, and immediately, our one table with 4 chairs and sectional look lonely in that colossal castle. More house means more stuff to collect. And so, the vicious cycle of buying, filling, purging, buying, filling, purging begins.

Lest you think I’m censuring everyone that lives in a nice house with a bedroom for each child and a big backyard with a playground, I’m looking at my own reflection. I bought into the American dream with a mammoth mansion of 5 bedrooms and four baths. Can you say crazy? Actually, it didn’t seem that big when all 5 of us filled the place, and it certainly came in handy for those big family gatherings—once a year. But, could we have been just as happy in a smaller, more conservative house boasting three bedrooms and fewer bathrooms? In terms of cleaning, I shout a resounding yes!

Happiness doesn’t depend on the size of my house or the number of possessions I own; instead, it’s found within relationships—of my husband and my children and those whom I welcome inside these walls. Who cares about the wall art, the furniture and the décor? Do those who walk through my door feel love, acceptance and kindness? Or, do I apologize for the cluttered counter, the dog’s diarrhea stain on the carpet or the mound of unfolded clothes still on the sofa? Do I convey to guests that I am embarrassed that our master bedroom and bathroom are as large as our living room and kitchen combined—that it seems grossly extravagant? Why do I feel this need to explain, justify, and apologize when friends come over to connect not criticize?

I’d like to think that stuff isn’t that important to me, but I believe down deep I’m just deceiving myself. I freely donate my daughter’s clothes to one of her friends; I’ve given away many books, furniture and other things our family doesn’t use; we support various non-profit organizations; we sponsor a World Vision child in Africa; and yet, we still accumulate. Our culture tells us we need the latest gadgets and gismos. We covet what our friends’ purchase. Going to the mall fuels our desire for more. It becomes an insatiable thirst to keep up with others.

Jen says, “Darkness is never more dangerous than when we’re plunged in it and think we can see.” The question lingers: do I think I have good eyes, but a 2x4 blocks my vision? Without my contacts, people appear like blurry blobs of flesh. Occasionally, my hubby will ask me as we prepare for bed if my “eyes” are still in so I can give my opinion about his clothing choice for the next morning. If I’ve already removed my contacts, I scoot about two inches from what he’s holding, squint to bring the objects into focus and give him a yes or no. Those with horrible eyesight understand the significant impact contacts or glasses make in bringing objects into focus. Without them, a world is formless and a mesh of colors blending together.

If I acknowledge my physical eyesight is no good without correction, what about my spiritual eyesight? What are the lies with which I convince myself about money and possessions?

“I’m doing enough already.”

“Someone else will help.”

“I’ve worked hard, so I deserve this.”

“I’m buying this for a good reason.”

So, now what? Do we put our houses on the market and sell everything we own because of the pile of guilt in our front yard? Most likely not, unless God has directed you to. Or, do we carry on as usual, accumulating assets, ignoring the great needs around us? Nope, not this either! Actually, change begins when we remove the scales from our eyes to see the needs around us. We make small steps in the direction of giving, serving and helping whenever and wherever we see an opportunity.

“Every day we have incremental chances to store up heavenly treasures, to foster good eyes, to be filled with light, to serve and love our God and His people.” Jen Hatmaker

I desperately desire to foster good eyes, how about you?

What are the lies you tell yourself about money and possessions?

What can you do this week to be generous?

Write

2013-10-04T11:59:00.001-07:00

I struggle with this mechanic called writing. To write or not to write, that is the question I contemplate often. I seem to have this love-hate relationship with the process.

Some days procrastination takes over until a deadline looms over my head pushing me to the keyboard. My housecleaning, oddly enough, operates similarly. When a houseful of guests descend upon me, I’m all hurry and scurry, mopping and sweeping to get the house in order.

Other days, I can’t wait to get to the computer to put thoughts, ideas, words down in streams of sentences. Attempting to put clarity to the swirls of thought in my head.

And, five minute Friday? It’s a complete panic for me, honestly. I feel like someone has a gun to my head as I race against the clock putting some semblance of clarity to the thick mess in my head.

Like right now!

Bouncing Her Way

2013-10-01T11:41:00.005-07:00

I am shocked, stunned, surprised about this homeschooling adventure with my daughter, Maddie. A few weeks ago, I talked about the years I spouted never will I ever in a billion years homeschool. The reasons not to homeschool appeared starkly obvious to me: a) her precious life could be endangered—by me, b) 7^th grade math includes story problems—sorry, dad, I still don’t understand, and c) my lunch ministry will suffer—okay, it’s pretty much nonexistent. The point is, we trudged forward, and guess what? She still lives, YouTube helps with math, and I escape every so often for lunch with a friend.

I’ve discovered a few things in this short journey thus far. I may or may not have made a premature judgment regarding whether a certain type of child could handle schooling at home. Okay, I did, all right? I always believed that if I were forced to choose homeschooling or be burned at the stake, I could school the older two who would’ve performed well since they have always been self-motivated, disciplined, conscientious students. Of course, I never entertained the outrageous notion of homeschooling them, and most definitely not Maddie, the distracted, unfocused, bouncing-off-the-walls baby-of-the-family who couldn’t sit still if a bomb was attached to her. Hence, what kind of crazy middle-aged mom considers locking herself in this prison cell?

Just call me “loco” because here I ruminate, pounding keys about the astonishing advantages of doing school with this independent, spirited tween. Throughout her years of public school, she couldn’t sit still, focus, or remain quiet. She disagreed openly with peers (mostly about the illogical arguments of the Big Bang Theory), visited the school nurse frequently (with a variety of ailments) and couldn’t complete tasks in a timely manner. At home, this girl stays motivated, works diligently and fidgets to her heart’s content. She bounces on an exercise ball while writing. Maddie studies in my bed, on the floor and hanging lopsided over a chair. She takes short lunch breaks because she has to “get back to work.” Her words, her idea, not mine. She takes responsibility for her learning. Maddie doubles up on her work during the week, so she has less to complete on Friday.

Frankly, I’m wondering if someone switched daughters on me because this is not the Maddie I know. Oh, sure, she still has those days in which she can’t focus. But, it’s not due to outside distractions of overfilled classrooms, hallway drama or girlfriend arguments. And, even if it takes her two hours to finish math, a bell doesn’t ring signaling she must move on nor does a teacher stand by her desk waiting to collect a paper she’s scurrying to finish. If she takes more time on one subject, she has the opportunity to quickly complete the next. The decision is hers. She’s realizing that in a traditional classroom, she was required to move with the masses. Now, however, she can move at her own pace, in a learning style that fits her.

What am I learning? I can be patient with a squirmy, non-traditional student with ants in her pants. Learning new things can be fascinating, like watching interesting YouTube videos of an octopus choking a shark to death. Two years of high school Latin (thank you, Mr. McCraith) wasn't a waste of time. And, last but not least, I shouldn’t judge how someone will do in a situation until tested.

The bottom line regarding any school decision is to consider the needs of each child. At this point, we’ve run the gamut of private, public and homeschool. We’ve encountered positives and negatives in each arena. Do your homework, evaluate your children, ask God for wisdom in your decision and move forward in the direction you feel prompted. Don’t worry about others’ opinions. You do what’s best for your family.

I’d love to hear about your school experiences!

What school choice have you made for your children, and why did you choose that particular option?

True!

2013-09-27T12:25:00.003-07:00

Linking up with Lisa Jo today for Five Minute Friday. The word is 'true'.

Ready…Set…GO!

“You’ll never be able to make a man happy.”

These words pierced my soul. After twelve years of marriage and two children, he slings these words like David flinging rocks at the giant Goliath. Not good enough. That’s what I hear.

Yet, I know these are not true. I know my God is enthralled with my beauty (Psalm 45:11). He calls me his masterpiece, his workmanship. I’m created for good works. These carelessly thrown words by a man no longer my husband are lies, all lies.

Yes, I know these are not true because the man I’ve been remarried to for over 13 years proves that to me every day.

“I love you,” he says.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m so thankful God brought you into my life.”

Satan wants us to believe lies, to doubt our value, to believe we are insignificant.

God, on the other hand, counteracts all of those lies when He calls us His treasures. Believe it, sister!

Stop!

The timer gonged, so the official 5 minutes of writing stopped. However, my thoughts continue to ruminate about this broken, painful time in my life.

Truth:

God brings beauty from ashes.

God has given me two beautiful children from a failed marriage.

God continues to work his forgiveness in me. It’s a Long.Hard.Process!

God gives me grace and compassion for others who are broken by life.

God is present in every storm.

God is able to do immeasurably more than I can think or imagine.

God restores what the enemy steals—joy, peace, life.

God is faithful when others betray us.

What I Want My Daughters to Know

2013-09-25T13:18:00.001-07:00

I’m blessed with three amazing children, two of them daughters. While one is well on her way to life outside our home, one still remains in the nest. My hope is that I have taught and am teaching them these concepts. Some have been pulled from Lisa-Jo Baker’s blog; others are original.

1. Jesus loves every single inch of you, inside and out. No.Matter.What!

2. Who you are is more important than what you do.

3. You bring more joy to my life than you can possibly comprehend.

4. Nothing you tell me can make me stop loving you.

5. No matter what you go through in life, God is always with you.

6. Laugh a LOT.

7. Forgive. Bitterness only hurts you.

8. Put others first; yourself last.

9. Chocolate is a necessity.

10. Your body is yours. A delicious gift to be shared with your husband. I promise it’s worth waiting to unwrap together.

11. Marriage is an act of courage, commitment and sacrifice. It’s also the most fun you’ll ever have with your best friend.

12. Be the friend you wish you had.

13. Real life is always better than online.

14. I’m more interested in your growth than your happiness.

15. We need each other.

16. There’s no such thing as perfect.

17. Always eat ice cream!

18. Beauty is a state of mind, not a state of body.

19. You can’t control what others think about you. Let it go.

20. Honesty and truth are better than deception and lies.

21. Home is not where we live but who we love.

22. Sometimes we just need to cry.

23. The best way never to worry about anyone gossiping about you is never to gossip about anybody.

24. You can always come home.

25. You’ll always be my baby girl.

This is not an exhaustive list of everything I desire to teach my girls. It’s such an immense job to tackle in this world that counteracts and undermines good values. And, where I’ve failed in so many areas, I pray that God fills in all the gaps!

What would you add to this list?

A Wealthy Wardrobe

2013-09-23T16:19:00.001-07:00

Some days I stand in my closet and stare at the racks of clothes pondering what to wear. Not this week. This morning, I pulled the same t-shirt over my head I wore two days ago. In fact, my whole week is planned out with 7 options. Yes. Only seven! Last week, I talked about my journey fasting from different foods. Clothes are the next step on this expedition of confronting our excessiveness.

Saturday morning, I laid out my choices: 1 CIY Mix gray t-shirt, 1 light jacket, 2 pairs of capris (thank goodness the temperatures promise warmth all week), 1 workout outfit (sorry, I wasn’t about to count each item separately), 1 nicer shirt (to wear to church), shoes (1 pair of tennis shoes and 1 pair of sandals). Shoes count as one item because I can’t wear sandals to the gym, and I simply refuse to wear tennis shoes outside of the gym.

After I donned my first outfit, I smoothed my hands over the t-shirt with flair, “See this outfit, honey? Get used to seeing it a whole lot this week!”

Sunday morning rolls around, and I dress in a different pair of capris and my nicer shirt. “You’re going to wear that?” Hubby looks stunned, dressed in church appropriate khakis and a nice polo.

I, however, am wearing what I might sport any day of the week. It’s certainly not what I grew up wearing to church, the days when one wouldn’t be caught dead attired in anything but a dress or skirt. But, times have changed, and jean capris are commonplace. Just, not usually for me on a Sunday.

“Hey, this is all I have. It’s one of my options,” I spout sarcastically.

I feel strangely out of place during worship even amid a sea of denim around me. It’s not my norm. Yet, I realize that some in this world don’t have a closet full of choices. Today, we are kin--those who have no choices and I with my choosing only one out of my crammed closet.

Today, I wear my main uniform, capris newly washed. At night I perform the smell test to determine if washing is necessary. Two days of a t-shirt with a splash of perfume works wonders. To get the full effect, I wonder if clothes should be worn all week without laundering, but I don’t want to risk being exiled from my house.

The question that begs to be answered is how many clothes are too many? How many outfits do I really need? How many objects hanging in my closet haven’t been worn in weeks, months or years? How do I justify this when so many in the world have one outfit with no means to buy more? And yet, I have the means and no need to purchase more! In the week’s study, Jen doesn’t mince words. She points and shoots right between the eyes. What is our money, our wealth, our dollars to be used for? She asks, “Does God think of our income as a potential source to battle injustice, or is it simply a personal blessing to net us a happy life, a reward for being born in America and not living in a famine and securing an education and solid footing on the economic ladder?” Ouch. Guilty as charged.

This deeply disturbs me as it should all of us. In America, we have so much. Our pantries and closets are bursting because we continue to buy. Why do I purchase clothes I don’t need? Gee, let’s see. I want to look cute and stylish. I desire others to think I’m cute and stylish. I’m bored with the hundreds of choices residing in my closet. I like variety and color. Others have already seen me in that black dress; therefore, I must buy a new one (so they can admire me). A new outfit requires new accessories and shoes. Picked up on anything yet? A bit of sickening me-ism here? Just being honest, folks. (More than you cared to know about me, I’m sure.) Truthfully, I’m not sure what to do with this information, my unwise consumerism and my obvious self-indulgence. Let’s just say this is a wake-up call, and I’m open to whatever God prompts me to do.

If my ugly-side revelation wasn’t enough to make you ill, there’s another side to this topic of clothes that was a startling surprise for me: where do they come from? I mean besides Target, Macy’s or TJ Maxx? Have you ever really considered who makes the clothes you buy? I haven’t.

Jen Hatmaker points out that many retailers we would consider reputable sell clothes made by children trapped in unsafe working environments, receiving little or no wages. She says that children quite possibly make our children’s clothes. How can that be? How many in the United States have ever thought about this?

Free2Work, a project of Not For Sale, provides consumers with information about how retailers are tackling the issue of modern day slavery. It grades them in four areas: policies, transparency and traceability, monitoring and training and workers’ rights. A downloadable app to a mobile device provides users with quick access to retailers’ grades and the ability to scan barcodes of apparel and other items. Places where we shop, such as Carter’s, Adidas, Gap and Wal-Mart earned D’s or F’s and have labor right’s violations against them currently. Shocking, I know. The way to combat this is to refuse to purchase clothing from these stores that encourage poor practices. In Vietnam, children and adults are held against their will in state detention centers and forced to work. Africa, China and Argentina are other countries known to use child and/or forced labor. (www.free2work.org/trends/apparel)

No longer ignorant, we must make wise choices not only in regard to our excessive clothing purchases, our constant desire for more, but also in determining the brands that uphold fair and honorable practices.

Today, I wear my plain ensemble proudly and commit to doing more. How about you?!

She - A Grandmother's Legacy

2013-09-20T14:31:00.000-07:00

SHE....For 5 Minute Friday

Here are the instructions:

1. Write for 5 minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word.

2. Link back here and invite others to join in {you can grab the button code in the blog footer}.
3. Go leave some comment props for the five minute artist who linked up before you.

It’s a great way to catch your breath at the end of a long week.

She never made the cover of People magazine. She lived a simple life with no desire for fame or fortune. She didn’t care about amassing possessions. One thing she loved above all else was family.

Perhaps that’s why my grandmother could boast of 3 children, 10 grandchildren, 23 great grandchildren and one great-great. So, her legacy will live on. This life that taught us to value hard work, mind our own business, not complain and give others grace.

Even at the end of her life last year, she was full of that grace. She was bothered that others had to care for her round the clock. That she couldn’t get out of bed. That eventually she couldn’t even take a bite of food. Yet, she never complained. May those words be said about each one of us at the end of our lives.

How Much Food is Enough?

2013-09-19T16:50:00.001-07:00

Who knew I could actually survive a week without dark chocolate? My go to snack in the middle of the morning, afternoon and night has become a handful of mixed nuts, not quite as savory, but it staves off the hunger when one feels munchy.

But, let me back up a bit. It’s my first week participating in the study by Jen Hatmaker, The 7 Experiment, Staging Your Own Mutiny Against Excess. As students we are challenged to do in 7 weeks what she and her husband spent 7 months doing, a week on each area of excess: food, clothes, spending, waste, possessions, media and stress. I can’t even imagine a month of fasting in each area. The truth is that as American Christians we have way more than we need and yet still want more. While many die of hunger, we are growing obese. While many have little to wear, our closets are bursting. It’s not okay that 1.5 million children die from hunger each year, and 20,864 people will die from hunger today when we have more than enough food for everyone on the planet. (www.statisticbrain.com/world-hunger-statistics/)

And, lest you think this study is some sort of guilt trip encouraging one to go and sell everything, let me assure you it’s not. I can’t help that I was born in America, the land of plenty, but I can use the resources with which I’ve been blessed to make a difference. Jen encourages us to be open to however God would desire us to act as a result of fasting. She advises us not to become legalistic and compare our degrees of fasting with one another to see if we come up short or ahead. Fasting looks different for everyone; God will move in each person’s life in unique ways. The point is to just do it, focusing on our own hearts.

If you think about it, our lifestyles revolve around food. When we complete one meal, we begin pondering when and what the next will be. Visiting the grocery store is often a multi-weekly occasion. Endless aisles of food offer a plethora of choices, most of them not super-de-dooper healthy. Events, parties, outings revolve around eating. We often search for something quick to microwave before we run our children to soccer, basketball or gymnastics practice. Our kids snack on granola bars, fruit snacks and pop tarts (at least my children do). Our snack choices aren’t much better. It’s much easier to grab a bar than cut fruit and vegetables.

In the original 7 fast, the Hatmakers chose 7 foods to eat for one month. Can anyone say coffee and chocolate?! Ok, so one should pick healthy foods. However, Jen offers a variety of other ways to fast, so I chose to abstain from fast food and unprocessed foods for a week. It’s day 6, and I’m still alive. Have you ever thought about how much canned, boxed, frozen food we consume? When I look in the refrigerator and cupboards and start checking off items I can’t devour, I’m flabbergasted. No soup, mac n cheese, processed meat, or cereal. No popcorn, chips, chocolate, granola bars or ice cream. Out of over 300 items in my kitchen, clearly excessive, I’ve resorted to the basics of God’s creation: fruit, veggies, chicken. Simple, yet hard. Healthy, yet time consuming.

What I have learned:

Our family eats a lot of crap. My youngest asked if kids in third world countries eat a lot of processed food. Gee, I think not, I told her. They don’t even have enough real food, much less the junk that lines our grocery store shelves. While I don’t have statistics to prove it, that’s my guess.

I can make healthier meals. For the most part, I’ve tried to provide a balanced diet. Still, I’m so guilty for resorting to the quick fixes when my brain tires of planning vitamin packed meals displaying all the colors. Cooking is something I do out of necessity and duty instead of love, so the less time in the kitchen, the happier I am. Give me a bowl of Captain Crunch or Cocoa Puffs for dinner, and life is good. The family, however, is not so appreciative of that wimpy attempt at a meal. This week, I researched recipes not involving cans, boxes or mixes and came up with Garlic Spinach and Italian Kale. Broil some chicken breasts flavored with salt and garlic pepper only and cut up a mixture of fruit and voila, a tasty meal.

I don’t need over 300 food items in my kitchen. I have this thing about certain food items. I must never ever be depleted of mayonnaise, eggs, milk or chocolate milk. When I grocery shop, I buy more just.in.case. At one time, I had 3 mayonnaise jars waiting in the wings. Ridiculous, right? I didn’t even grow up in poverty, so what sort of insecurity is this? Don’t even get me going about my couponing and buying a bajillion boxes of fruit snacks because they are on sale and I have coupons! Doesn’t make much sense when we’ve down-sized to one child at home. My husband and I don’t even eat those things ‘cause they’re not ‘healthy’.

Around the world, people are still hungry, but I can do something about it. Living in America makes me feel far removed from those hungering in third world countries. Since they aren’t right in front of me, I live in my four walls oblivious to the need. Yet, there is a way we can all help through an organization called www.kiva.org. A microlending institution, it offers loans through people like you and me to groups and individuals all over the world to help them start- up businesses so they can provide food for their families. These loans have a high percentage rate of repayment and the money can then be recycled to another person or group in need. This is a fabulous way to help those who can’t find the capital to support themselves or their families. If I lowered my grocery bill by a mere $25 and loaned that money to someone on the Kiva website, I could impact a child’s future. A person’s life could be transformed by my actions to reduce excessiveness. What a sobering thought!

Here’s your challenge: count the boxes, cans, mixes and bags of stuff filling your shelves. I stopped counting at 300 because it was already just ridiculous. Be utterly amazed at your tally. Pray about doing some type of fast. Most certainly pray about how God might want you to help locally or through an organization like Kiva. But, do something!

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was

thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was

a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes

and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after

me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

Matthew 25:35-36

Growing in Generosity

2013-09-11T13:38:00.002-07:00

Being generous is not always easy, but this year I am being challenged to become more giving in a variety of ways. So often, generosity is associated with money, but it’s much more than that. We can offer more of our time, be gracious in relationships, or sacrifice our desires for the sake of someone else.

I first grasped this thing called “generosity” when was in elementary school, about 100 years ago, with an experience that is engraved on my mind forever. My mom was the leader of a group called Campfire Girls which is similar to Girl Scouts. On this particular day, our group had visited the elderly in a local nursing home. Each girl was paired up with another person with whom we exchanged gifts. My sweet lady gave me an Uno candy bar, so wildly popular it’s no longer in existence today. As we were dropping girls off at their homes in our white hippy van, this chocolate marshmallow bar called my name repeatedly asking me to partake. Mom ordered me not to open it in front of everyone else unless I was prepared to share.

The temptation was too great; I ignored her instructions, unwrapped it and bit off a morsel. Mom immediately pulled the van over to the side of the road and demanded that I exit and walk. Shocked, I stumbled out and watched as she drove AWAY. Can you even believe it?! I should’ve recalled her knack for follow through! Ambling aimlessly, I hoped she’d return to give me a ride home. Eternity stretched out giving me time to ponder my disrespect, my lack of generosity. When the van returned, it was empty except for Mom

If she lectured me, I don’t recollect. It doesn’t really matter, because I will never forget the lesson etched on my heart about the importance of sharing with others. And, she believed it was so important that leaving me on the side of the road to ponder my actions was insignificant compared to me thinking of those less fortunate—even when it involves sharing a silly candy bar.

Think about how you can be generous, even when it seems insignificant, with your family, friends, the grocery store clerk, the waitress, or the Starbucks coffee server. Offering a kind word, the last bite, a bigger tip, a bit of understanding for a hard day, a gentle response can go a long way and just may change someone’s day!

The Dating Game

2013-09-09T11:55:00.001-07:00

Standing in front of 50 teenagers at the One Girl Conference, I spouted, “I only have one thing to say: don’t date!”

They looked at me in stunned silence until I began to laugh, eliminating their fears that I was serious. After all, they chose this particular breakout to get the skinny on the who, what, when, where and why’s of this hot topic.

Not that I’m an expert by any means. After all, it has been approximately 1000 years ago since I had my first date. And, may I just say that I am more pleased than a child anticipating a trip to Disney World that I don’t have to repeat that process. The agony of all the going with and breaking up is akin to getting my teeth cleaned. Awkward, uncomfortable and painful.

What sort of advice beyond “avoid boys at all costs” could I give them? These girls had moved past the “boys are icky” stage. Too bad. Bright-eyed, ears open, young brains receptive, they eagerly awaited the magic formula to snag the perfect guy. Gee, I wish it were that easy. Relationships are com-pli-ca-ted! Hence, my plea to take.their.time. Don’t rush the process!

Along the way, I’ve amassed knowledge about this dating game. Lots of it after the fact—you know, after I made mistakes. After I had compromised, rationalized, justified why I should continue in a relationship not healthy, holy or heartening. The view on the other side seems much clearer than when I sported my bell bottoms and red swish Nikes back in the 80’s. Steering my own teens through the dating process has given me crystal clear vision, yet often my words of wisdom have fallen on deaf ears. How I desire to spare girls everywhere the consequences of life-changing poor choices!

So, when given the opportunity with a captive audience of enthusiastic girls, I shared from my own experiences as well as material from various sources. These are a few thoughts worthy of communicating to all girls and moms of tweens or teens:

1. You are a masterpiece, created by God and therefore, worth something! Don’t focus on trying to get someone else to like you; instead, focus on becoming who God created you to be. He has a purpose for you beyond catching a boy. Don’t get distracted or set your dreams aside just to find a boy. Trust God for that someone, and don’t rush the process. What if you went about your everyday life becoming the person God created you to be? In doing this, your inner beauty is growing, and believe me, you’ll attract the right kind of guy down the road—when you least expect it!

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works,

which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Ephesians 2:10

2. Don’t date because you are lonely or unhappy. Being in a relationship will not cure either one. It’s unfair to expect a guy to make you happy. They aren’t perfect and neither are you. All of us feel lonely at times, even those who are married. At some point, a guy will let you down. Settling for less, facing disrespect or staying in a dating relationship just so you won’t feel alone, is dangerous. Only God can satisfy the emptiness you feel or bring the joy you lack. If you struggle with loneliness, strengthen your relationship with God and with friends who will encourage you in your faith.

3. Date a guy who shares your same values. One of my parents’ rules when I began dating was that I couldn’t date a non-Christian. Some say this shouldn’t be a big deal because after all, you aren’t marrying the guy; you’re just dating. Aha! But, dating leads to marriage. You may not believe you’ll get married, but when you become emotionally attached and perhaps physically involved, voila, you end up staying with a person you should never have dated in the first place. So, why go there? Why take the chance? Set guidelines about the types of guys you’ll date ahead of time. When someone asks you out who doesn’t meet those standards, say no! Be picky.

Missionary dating doesn’t usually work either. Too often, the believer begins to compromise his or her values because of peer pressure. My daughter-in-law, Kyla, says her mom always told her if she couldn’t see herself married to the guy, she shouldn’t date him. So, if you don’t want to marry a guy that doesn’t respect you, doesn’t share your values, doesn’t make you a better you, doesn’t draw you closer to God, refuses to acknowledge and work through his own imperfections and isn’t honest, don’t start the relationship!

So, what if you’ve already made mistakes? What if you’ve crossed physical lines you shouldn’t have or are dating someone right now that doesn’t enhance your relationship with God? Perhaps you may need to consider breaking off the relationship! Know that God offers forgiveness when you make mistakes, and He gives us a do-over.

“The faithful love of the LORD never ends! His mercies never cease.

Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.

(Lamentations 3:22-23)

How grateful I am for a God who wipes the slate clean when I mess up! No matter who you are, a young girl just becoming interested in boys, a teen who already has regrets involving dating, or a mom teaching your own daughters about dating, we can all experience God’s grace and forgiveness.

This is a short snippet of what I shared with tweens and teens at the conference. Entire books about dating line shelves, and I would encourage you to read more about this topic if you are in this phase of life as a teen or mom.

And, if you have a great piece of advice to share about dating or relationships, I’d love to hear it!

Be Wary of Weeds

2013-08-30T12:00:00.002-07:00

My nickname at the gym is “No Sweat, Annette” for obvious reasons. Aside from a bit of dampness on my shirt, I simply don’t perspire. Until a few days ago, that is, while weeding in the flowerbed overgrown with weeds staging a coup. Water coursed down my face as I bent over repeatedly to yank weeds bigger than the size of Texas, soaked shirt sticking to my skin.

Most annoyances pulled out easily despite the dry ground until I encountered the Big Daddy of all weeds. I tugged, wrenched and pulled. It was immovable, roots clinging to the dirt underneath. Planting my feet on either side of the massive growth, I heaved. Nothing. What was holding this down?! Trying a different strategy, I grabbed ahold of the mass and began to twist closely to the ground. It finally gave way catapulting me flat on my behind. I felt like I had won a significant battle. A few hours later, the bed was cleansed of its ugly impurities while I, drenched with sweat, looked on with satisfaction.

Working in my garden and among my flowers, I am reminded often about the status of my heart. Weeds spring up quickly and become large obstructions to beauty similar to what occurs in my heart if I leave it unattended. What I think is just a small matter can become huge if I ignore it. When I ignore the weeds in my garden, they threaten the growth of the beans, cucumbers and peppers I’ve intentionally planted for my family’s benefit. However, it’s easy to see the problem because they have become colossal obstructions. A few hours of work and the nasty weeds are eradicated.

Sometimes foul issues lurk beneath as when weeds sneak in among flowers. I must move away some beauty to get to the roots. Just like the hidden weeds, I might not even realize what is concealed in the inner recesses of my heart. It’s fairly simple to recognize when I struggle with gossip, jealousy or anger. Even others can see those glaring faults. But what about those that I don’t even recognize? Could there be matters simmering in my heart that I am unaware of, that are hindering me from receiving all the bounty of God’s blessing?

This summer a beautiful honeysuckle vine choked the life out of my blackberry bush severely limiting the berry crop. How can such a pleasant, fragrant plant be an agent of death? And yet, no matter how many times I pulled life-sucking vines from the bush, they continued to wrap and thread their way through fruit laden branches. Does it work the same with me?

Perhaps my heart is capable of both at the same time: the hostile veiled from my eyes stunting my growth and the seemingly good twisting its way through my heart, choking out the bountiful fruit that God desires to bring forth in me.

Just today I was reminded of Psalm 19:12 which says, “Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults.” God knows what’s buried in our hearts; we just need to ask Him to reveal it so we can receive healing. We can pray with the David in Psalm 139:23-24, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” It might be that the offensive way in me is something crowding out the best God desires to show me.

Will you be courageous with me and ask Him to search your heart? When He reveals the mystery, let’s commit to yanking that ugly thing out by the roots!

Never Say Never

2013-07-26T07:39:00.000-07:00

I used to say to my homeschool friends when they were relating a challenging day with their children or complaining about the hardship of spending 24/7 with the little boogers, “That’s why I put mine in school, so my kids stay alive!” My teasing didn’t deter them from what they believed God had impressed upon them to do, despite the trials of teaching their own. They pressed on while my two oldest graduated from high school, both earning college scholarships—one now graduated and newly married, the other in her second year of her pursuit of a nursing degree. With 12 year old Maddie bringing up the rear, I planned to continue sending her through public education just like her siblings.

Then I had to eat my words, “I will homeschool when hunger on earth is staved and terrorists don’t exist.” Pretty safe bet that I won’t be homeschooling any time soon. My hubby would occasionally ask, “Why don’t we homeschool?” to which I would sarcastically say, “Easy for you to say—you go to work every day and don’t have to give up ‘ministry’ lunches like I would have to.” And then…and then, I was sitting across from a very dear homeschooling expert asking her questions about uh, you know, homeschooling when she shrieked in Panera, “Shut up, girl! I thought you were going to ask me questions about Bible study.” I was exceedingly clear that at this point, we were exploring our options about this strange phenomenon. But, let me back up to what brought about this 180 degree turn.

A string of events instigated this investigation of something I said I would never do in a billion years. To keep it fairly short and sweet, I’ll summarize. An odd conversation I had with Miss Maddie’s teacher originated a germ of a thought in the homeschool direction. She asked me a bizarre question one day, “Is Maddie still on medication for ADD?” What in the world??

“Uh, Maddie’s never been on medication for ADD,” I responded. Not that I didn’t think she could definitely use it sometimes. Heck, I could even use it!

“Oh. Well…” she sounded a bit confused. “It’s just that some of her test scores indicate that maybe she needs special accommodation. She has no problem with the day to day school work, but…” Oh believe me, I know she needs a little extra help in the focus department! Anyhow, as we continued our conversation, the wheels on the bus began to go round and round in my head.

Add to that a school board survey asking for parental input regarding changing the school year to a more balanced one to which they neglected to consider parents’ opinions and decided arbitrarily to do what they wanted. Not to mention that the board had made decisions the year before affecting the length of the school day without considering parental input. Oh, yes, there was a committee of strategically placed people who perhaps were unmarried university students with no children. Am I living in Stalin’s Russia, I wonder? What’s our recourse against a renegade school board?

In addition, Maddie had transferred to a new gymnastics facility an hour away, and we were traveling 4 times a week for 3-4 hour practices each night. As a 6^th grader, the late hours were wearing on her small physique. Getting up for school in the morning was a challenge and with junior high just around the corner, she would be forced to awaken an hour earlier. Waking her in the morning was like encountering a wild animal. Thinking the future through to its logical conclusion, even with getting as much homework completed as possible in the hour long car drive to gymnastics, Maddie faced the likely prospect of 6 hours of sleep a night. Sure, many teens survive on that, but they are bears to live with.

Thus, with all those pieces of the puzzle, homeschool was a picture that began to form as a reasonable, even pleasing, solution. Sure, my ‘ministry’ lunches might suffer, as well as my daily routine, but the more I think about it, the more homeschooling just makes sense. To top it off, Maddie is completely on board, excited about it. No homework after school, no in school distractions to distract her, no ISTEP testing! What’s not to like about that?

So, we are taking this scary leap into homeschooling this year, with friends still shaking their heads at the woman who said, “Never, ever will I homeschool.”

When My Heart Leaves

2013-07-23T06:32:00.003-07:00

“You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.” ~Frederick Buechner

It’s mind-blowing how a year and a half of planning for a huge event stretches on interminably and yet is over in a blink. When our son, Nick, and new wife Kyla were engaged two years ago, the wedding date June 29, 2013, seemed as far away as the moon. A lot of living happens in two years, and the distant date seems more like a fairy tale. People ask a lot about how preparations are going, and my standard response sounds a lot like, “I don’t really know; I’m the Supporting Actress.” A few months before, the action picks up. I’m ordering tuxes and organizing a rehearsal dinner complete with homemade centerpieces. (This, incidentally, is a feat in itself for a non-crafty person like me.) And then, in a matter of hours, it’s completed.concluded.kaput. The anticipation and excitement of 9 family members camping in our home for 10 days comes and goes like a streak of lightning.

Actually, when my parents arrive, it feels like it’s going to be forever—like going to Disney World not enduring an Italian opera. It’s important I clarify that. My brother’s family joins us the next day along with my aunt and uncle. We stuff people into three cars to various venues for the rehearsal, wedding and reception. Hours later, after all the posing for pictures, saying “I do”, and dancing of the bride and groom, we crash on couches exhausted yet content. A perfect day complete with the promise of more fun in the ensuing days. I count in my head seven more days of memory making. I open and shut my eyes aware that the days fast forward like a cassette player. Memories of Lake Monroe in a storm, Kings Island rides and 4^th of July bonfire and fireworks imprint on my mind. Family start dropping off like flies. First, my aunt and uncle, then my brother and his beautiful family. Finally, I drop off the sole survivors, my parents, at the airport. I hate saying goodbye. Unbidden tears flow threatening to ruin my makeup. Not a surprise for such a stoic person as I!

The silence is deafening on the way home, even with magpie Maddie sitting beside me. We feel the letdown of two weeks of nonstop activity. The only word I can think of is one that I hate to hear coming out of my own kids’ mouths—BORING! Now, what will we do? I walk in the quiet house that once held the clamor of 13 voices. I’m not liking it one bit. I text Mom, “It’s too quiet here. Come back.” She’s already flown away, cell phone silenced.

Mess is everywhere, but who cares enough to clean? I don’t even want to get up to pull leftovers out of the frig. Lethargic and listless, that’s what we are. The world stopped for two weeks, and now we can’t figure out what to do with ourselves. Between dad making breakfast and my mom and aunt fixing dinner, I’m pondering how I can approach Tony about hiring a cook. I’m sure it’s a necessity. Even with new pots and pans in the cupboard that the four of them conspired to purchase (something about my old ones being completely inadequate), I’m not compelled to pull out a recipe.

And, who knew that two retired men could fix my oven broken during the self-cleaning cycle and repair a dryer that has been taking an average of two cycles to dry? No wonder I’m crying when they all leave! The bottom line is I pretty much love hanging out with my family that lives a million miles away from me. And, no matter how much time we have together, it’s never enough. I’ve heard horror stories of the family that tolerates each other, overstays their welcome and is skedaddled out the door.

Glad those folks don’t belong to me!

Moving Out

2013-06-13T18:43:00.001-07:00

My son is a bit too giddy as he packs his things into his car to move into the apartment he will soon share with his bride. He’s leaving our home for good and shows no glimmer of sadness or tear-stained cheeks. Shouldn’t he at least appear to be despondent at moving away from me, the one who bore him in pain and agony, changed his blowouts, helped him with his math (at least until 4^th grade), washed his grass-stained jeans, listened to 14 billion choir performances and watched all those boring baseball games? At least he could do a little acting and pretend like he will miss take and bake Papa Murphy’s on Friday nights! To him, this is just like moving to college four years previously. To me, this is for.ev.er.

To Nick, it’s just another move to add onto the 10 previous over the span of 3 states. One more is nothing to him. His new wife, in 15 days to be exact, definitely has a more appropriate response departing her family. Apparently, she loves them more deeply. I’m sure it has nothing to do with her being a girl or the fact that she’s resided in her home, well, ALL of her life, and the myriad of memories, mementos and moments that are plastered on the beams of her home and in her heart. Living in one place can certainly make one a bit more sentimental about sifting through and packing up belongings collected over 21 plus years. Living like a gypsy, however, allows one to not bat an eye when the door slams shut.

Perhaps, he might shed one tear when we dance to Rascal Flatt’s, “My Wish,” during the Mother-Son dance as he looks into my eyes and ponders my terrificness. Fond memories like lunches with fruit snacks, mounds of clean laundry unfolded on the couch (another wrinkled shirt to wear) and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner again will bring a drop of water to one eye. Or, maybe it’s just my heels stepping on his toes. Whatever; a tear is a tear, and I’ll take it!

Finding Wings

2013-06-03T17:35:00.001-07:00

I notice something sitting stationary in the middle of the entry to the bluebird house and grab binoculars. As I focus in on the baby bluebird peering out, I realize this is an auspicious occasion, the day when little ones leave the nest to venture into a huge world of gigantic trees, large fields of green grass and miles and miles of flight space containing evil predators waiting to scoop them up. Settling on my back deck, I silently sit and study.

Papa bird, donned in brilliant blue coat, perches nearby along with mama bird in her drab blue. Does it bother anyone else that males get to wear the bold colors, or is it just me? The birds chatter constantly as I envision daddy chirping, “You can do it, child. Don’t be afraid. Just push off and start flapping your wings. Mom and I are right here, and we’ll keep you safe. Nothing’s going to happen. We’re keeping laser sharp eyes on all the surroundings.”

Time clicks on, and baby appears to summon courage then slips back inside the safe confines of the tiny house. Fear of the unknown pulls it back from the door to new adventures. Rousing its confidence, the bird fluffs its wings, placing tiny feet on the outside of the small hole. Then, it disappears from view again. To fly or not to fly, that is the question. Maybe this little one argues back to dad like Moses did with God, “I can’t do it. Maybe I can just stay here and you can keep bringing me worms and bugs. It’s kind of scary and really, really big out there. I’m little and I might fall.”

Fifteen minutes, and I’m still stuck to my chair. I can’t miss this, since my own firstborn is finding his wings right now—getting married in a few weeks and soon to be out of my nest. I’m here to learn how birds do this empty nest thing. I observe the baby edging out again. Looking right and left, peering way out to see the male, it pushes out and away, flapping furiously until it precariously lands on top of the swing set. Shew! First flight not pretty, but successful. The baby is absolutely still, yet I’m certain its heart is pumping a million beats a minute.

I swing the binoculars back to the nest where a second baby is peeking out. I wonder how many comprise this family and how long it will take for each of them to gain the courage to flap into the world. I wait. And wait. This baby looks about ready to take off, then chaos ensues. Birds squawk and swoop. Mama and Papa bird sense danger and chase off crows and others who threaten the successful flight of their baby. The parents depart and return about a hundred times while the baby looks like a statue in the middle of the hole. It does not move a feather.

At least 30 minutes pass before the baby moves. I can only surmise that he’s been given the all clear signal. Examining the surroundings, head straining far out of the nest, this next bird begins flapping towards his mom and dad and safely lands. Papa flies to the seed feeder a few feet from me, pecks a bit, zips back to the newly flown bird and plops food into the open mouth. Did this dad just bribe his son to fly with food? I wonder. Didn’t I just do that last week urging bites of broccoli with the enticement of ice cream?

I look once again to the nest and wait for another head to pop through. The hole remains empty. No more birds. I guess they really are empty nesters now. Sigh. I ponder how they feel, if they are sad when they look at their cozy home with no babies left. Siting the family of four alighting on top of the trampoline I watch as the parents pause for their babies. They don’t fly off as soon as the babes are out of the nest but stick around for support and encouragement. They wait for the babies to practice using their wings more, and yet the tiny feet seem stuck like glue. Wings flap but feet fix tightly to the trampoline. It’s hard to fly that way, feathers fluttering but feet not letting go. Yet, the only way for these birds to find their wings is to let go of their comfort zone.

My firstborn is also finding his wings. A two and a half hour trip north to college began his journey four years ago. Split between home and dorm during holidays and summers, his wings fluttered the distance between both. But, he always came home. This summer—in three short weeks—he flies away, not returning to the nest. Just as the baby bluebirds will eventually, he is creating his own place with his bride. This journey to his new life outside familiarity began gradually years before and culminates with wings fully spread soaring smoothly to bright skies. He’s excited and ready to go.

Unfortunately, a son finding wings causes a mom to find a few boxes of Kleenex!

New York City Makeover

2013-05-25T09:03:00.000-07:00

Pinky, Reesie, La La, Noica—these are some of the names of women my daughter, Alix and I encountered last week in a New York City women’s shelter. Women broken by life and some by husbands. Women mentally ill in some cases. A group of 55 women traveled from Indiana to share the love of Jesus by washing dirty feet, massaging stressed hands, helping them choose a new outfit, styling straggly hair and putting makeup on tired faces and seeing smiles brighten once dark countenances. As we encouraged this women with the words, “God loves you; you are valuable to Him,” we viewed visible changes. Shuffled feet became springy steps. Loud laughter replaced angry words. God visited this place where broken down, discarded women live.

What did I learn on this trip to beautify women who feel ugly and unnoticed?

1. Makeovers can change a person from the outside in. When you feel ugly, you act ugly. It works the same in my own life. The day I throw on my shabby sweats and glasses sans makeup to make a quick trip to the grocery is one in which I prefer to remain incognito. Slink in and slink out because I’m feeling unkempt. These women, however, experience day upon day feeling forgotten and frumpy. As ladies bounced from station to station, whether choosing a new outfit or sitting for someone to apply their makeup, a visible transformation like Cinderella emerging from her cinder-stained face and garments took place. Worn out, lackluster women began to believe the words each station worker voiced. “You are beautiful to Jesus; He loves you; you are not trash.”

2. Even homeless women desire to be heard and touched. I caressed hands and paid attention to some who had lost their identity, values and families. I listened to women speak with foreign accents and others mentally bewildered with stories a mile long. While tragic circumstances and even poor decisions had landed them in this place, my purpose lay in feeling their pain, hearing their cries and conveying that God sees them and knows their names.

3. God doesn’t want me to be comfortable. It’s scary to step out of your comfort zone and do something you’ve never done before. Yet when I feel unqualified, He promises to equip me; I just need to be willing and available. Fear can hold us back from doing things God wants to do in and through us to impact the world around us. It’s the first step that’s the scariest! As I began to massage the first hand, heart thumping in my chest, I felt completely lost. Thoughts swirled in my brain, “What can I say that would make a difference to this wounded woman? How do I help and encourage her?” I jumped in with both feet, like Peter jumping out of the boat to walk on water to Jesus, and each conversation became easier and more comfortable, as God gave me His words and His strength.

4. Serving brings great joy. By the end of the day, I was tired and spent, yet filled with joy because God had used me, in spite of all my fears and feelings of inadequacy. Not only had the women’s spirits brought me delight because of their physical transformations, but also the simple act of pouring out spilled gladness everywhere. Excitement and laughter filled the room as women departed in joyful thankfulness. The act of serving blessed me far more than it did these women.

5. God is in the transformation business, not me. The word says, “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord Almighty.” (Zechariah 4:6) My job this particular weekend was not to judge these women or force and cajole them to be different. Too often, I try to manipulate others through guilt trips or other methods. During this experience, my role was to listen, love and pray for these women and allow the Holy Spirit to work on their hearts. After all, Jesus is the only one who can create a clean heart in anyone. How freeing it is to know that someone’s transformation is not up to me yet realize that I have a vital part in relaying the message of love and everlasting life to those living in dark and desperate circumstances.

Perhaps this last lesson hit me the hardest as I reflect on the way I treat my family, my friends and others I encounter daily. My micro-managing and manipulation of others is ineffective and a poor substitute for the mighty power of God to change a life completely. I am to be a vessel God can use, a conduit of His love and grace to those around me, so they can infected with His Spirit. In my willingness for God to work in and through me to impact my children, my church, my community, I pray that God pours out His Spirit in magnanimous ways, that I am not a hindrance to the work He wants to do in someone’s life, and most of all, that I always give God the glory for the changes that occur!

A Tween's Example

2013-05-22T12:10:00.000-07:00

Every night when we tuck Maddie in, we take turns praying. For the past several years, on Maddie’s night to pray, she talks to God about Uncle Tim’s back. Every.single.time. One particular night, she asked me, “Why doesn’t God answer my prayer? How come Uncle Tim’s back is still hurting?”

“I don’t know, Maddie. I just know God is not like a magician. He doesn’t simply wave a magic wand and make everything the way we want it. Sometimes, He wants us to learn to trust Him in the midst of our unanswered prayers.”

Through the years of modeling prayer, we’ve prayed about school, friendships, sickness, bad attitudes and everything else in between. This little girl is grasping the importance of talking to Jesus about everything. A few weeks ago, she heard that her dear friend’s mother was experiencing some health issues. She immediately created a card, mailed it and began praying for her. Everyday, she’d ask, “Do you think she got my card yet, Mom?”

One day, I received a text from this sweet friend relaying thanks to my daughter for the card and the request she had placed in the prayer basket at church. My friend just happened to be on the 24 hour prayer chain that particular day and cried as she read Maddie’s heartfelt request for God to heal. It moved me too knowing that my daughter is realizing the importance of crying out to Jesus for every need.

I am often proud of my children for their school and sports accomplishments. But this particular day, Maddie’s developing prayer habit for those in need surpassed any champion medal she could’ve received. Her commitment to bring someone suffering before the God of the universe caused me to ponder my own passion to pray. What a beautiful reminder that God desires that our first impulse be to bring our concerns before Him, large or small.

In fact, a few days later, Maddie rattled off her own prayer request before boarding the school bus. “Hey, can you pray that I’m nice to Clay today and that I do well on my test?” How grateful I am that God hears our sincere petitions for kindness to that person who is difficult to love. Maddie’s example reminds me to bring all my concerns to my Savior who hears me whenever I call.

Endings and Beginnings

2013-05-04T13:49:00.001-07:00

A week ago I watched my firstborn walk across a stage, shake a few hands and receive a degree he’s worked for four years to obtain. With watery eyes and sniffles, I slipped back in time to my own passage across a platform to receive my English degree about a thousand years ago, yet I remember it like it was yesterday. Now, I’m my parents and I know what it’s like to be on the other side of the stage, sitting prouder than a peacock, watching my tall son go through his rite of passage with honors. I glance at my husband whose eyes are also brimming and red. Our eyes express our feelings. No words needed.

We’ve watched this boy grow from child to man. And though we felt a smidgen of this ending of things four years previously at his high school graduation, it doesn’t compare to the finality of this ending. How could it? He still came and went, summer and fall, holidays and weekends. We’d play games, watch movies and he’d sleep in his bedroom in our home. But now. Now?! It’s different. He’ll be home long enough to save a few more dollars, move into his own place, marry, make his own home and eventually raise his own family. An extension of us, but nevertheless, his own. On his OWN. Without us.

Bittersweet, yet isn’t this what we as parents are supposed to do? Raise our little ones to manhood or womanhood so they can step out on their own? Raise them to know the One who is present with them always even when Mom and Dad aren’t? Raise them to know that no matter what, no matter what, Jesus can be trusted through any situation they may face? Many times as a mom, I’ve wished for do overs. I’d have handled many situations differently, but one thing I’d never change is sharing Jesus with my son. Because the one thing I do know is that if my green-eyed boy knows the One to go to in any circumstance, it won't matter where life takes him, he’ll be fine.

So, life right now feels strange. I’m sad and happy rolled up together. I’m Jesus’ mother, treasuring all these things in my heart (Luke 2:51), holding onto that boy for just a few weeks longer, until he truly flies away. In my mind he’s still mine. Always will be. Yet, I know another has taken his heart, as it should be. Nevertheless, I carried, cuddled and corrected that kid for 22 years, and if I’m like my own mother, I’ll feel compelled to continue even when he’s 40! So, even though he’s moving out, establishing his family and career, giving his heart away to another, I will hold him close in mine forever.