Tracy's Grace Space

Exhausted but Exhilarated

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Sat, 22 Nov 2014 02:10:00 +0000

Week one of the new job is in the books. I can't believe how it has flown by. Each day I have spent time in different "rotations," working in the various departments and facilities owned and operated by the Roanoke Rescue Mission. On Day 1 I worked at the main reception desk and quickly realized how little I knew about the place, as time and again I answered phone callers' questions with "let me see if I can find someone who can answer that for you." Since then I have toured and helped out in all three of the Mission's thrift stores, it's art gallery and café, the Women's and Children's Center (homeless shelter), and it's free clinic. Last night I attended a networking dinner and today there was lunch with the Chamber of Commerce staff. The week capped off with Rally, the weekly Friday afternoon event to worship God and celebrate the accomplishments of men and women in the Mission's renowned recovery program. I What a privilege to get to work in this place, where lives are being transformed on a daily basis! Next week I will spend a full day with the Recovery program and another day split between the men's shelter and kitchen services, before finally starting in my position as Director of Development on December 1.

In each of my rotations, I have been warmly welcomed by people who are so passionate about what they do that it's contagious. Some of them are themselves success stories of the recovery program, eager to share their own stories of transformation. Others have given up more lucrative careers because they find their work in this ministry to be so rewarding.

The Roanoke Rescue Mission is an amazing place with amazing people, but it's all because of our amazing God. He made that even clearer to me on Tuesday at the Distribution Recycling Center, where I spent my afternoon. The DRC is the building which processes all the items dropped off at the donation centers.  Clothing and shoes are sorted for distribution to the various thrift stores, appliances are tested and, if necessary, repaired.  Kitchenware, toys, pillows and linens are cleaned and sanitized.  Simply put, it is command central for making all the donated items ready for thrift store shelves.

Back to what God did. You see, I launched my career in TV news from that building when I was fresh out of college. It was Cox Cable at the time, and I reported and anchored a 5-minute local news cut-in on CNN Headline News called Roanoke Headline News.  Tuesday, when I walked into the DRC's toy room, I realized it was my old news studio.  As memories came flooding back, God whispered Isaiah 43:19 into my heart. "See, I am doing a new thing. Do you not perceive it?"

With that verse he reassured me yet again that just as that old abandoned building has been repurposed and brought back to life with this vital Rescue Mission ministry, God has also repurposed me and my talents for his kingdom work. Allowing me to re-launch into professional life from the very place where I got my start was a brilliant reminder of what God will do when I surrender my will to his.

I just love it when God does stuff like this, and I kind of think he takes delight in seeing his children with our minds blown when we actually connect the dots.  I'm picturing him with a big ole grin on his face. He sure has put one on mine!

P.S. The Roanoke Rescue Mission operates solely through donations and with the help of about 5000 volunteers. If you would like more information, like us on Facebook and check out the website to see how you can get involved! http://rescuemission.net/

Be Careful What You Ask For!

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Thu, 13 Nov 2014 23:33:00 +0000

Inadequate. Unskilled. Old.

Just a few of the words that kept running through my mind as I prepared my resume. "Who would want me?" It was the question I lamented over and over until I eventually belittled myself into a tearful mess, and finally, at my wits' end, cried out to God.

"If you expect me to do anything meaningful at all, you're going to have to just drop it into my lap because it will never happen otherwise!"

Friends, don't dare God to do something unless you truly, sincerely mean it. Fortunately I did, because he did. Drop something into my lap. Literally, and so fast my head has not stopped spinning.

On a whim I responded to a job posting on Craigslist. A week later I was interviewed by phone. Five days after that I went for a face-to-face, where I was told before the interview even started that I was the person they wanted to hire so we would just use the interview time for me to ask whatever questions I might have. I was then invited to sit it on two meetings and meet the staff.

When, how, does that even happen?! If that's not God dropping something into your lap then I don't know what is!

Another visit ensued (which deserves a blog post of its own), references were contacted, and earlier this week a formal offer was made and accepted.

On Monday, after 17 years as a stay-at-home mom, I will re-enter the full-time work force as the Director of Development for the Roanoke Rescue Mission. I couldn't be more humbled and excited that God would allow me to combine my professional skills with my passion for ministry to lost and hurting people. I asked, and God delivered in a big way!

It's going to be a huge adjustment for our family, and to say that I'm a little scared would be quite the understatement. But because God has done this, I know he will be in the details. How blessed I have been to have had a wonderful, fulfilling career as a TV news reporter, then the opportunity to be at home to raise my family, and now this chance to finally pursue the ministry calling that God placed on my heart six years ago. I always believed it would happen some way, somehow. Suddenly, the studies, the trainings, the experiences, and the people in crisis who have "randomly" shown up in my life through the years all make sense. I am not inadequate, unskilled, old (okay maybe a little old) because God has been teaching me and preparing me all these years...for such a time as this.

Home-goings

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Tue, 21 Oct 2014 01:00:00 +0000

Like so many of my church family and community members, I find myself reeling today from the sudden death of a dear lady. After several days of feeling like she was coming down with something, she received a shocking diagnosis of acute leukemia on Friday, was admitted to the hospital that very night, and passed away on Sunday.

How does that even happen?

The blessing for Pat is she didn't have to endure prolonged suffering. Though I am sure with every fiber in my being that she would've given anything for more time with her beloved husband and children, I'm equally sure that she is now experiencing joy in Glory that is beyond anything we can fathom.

I'm praying her family will find comfort in that knowledge as well, and that God's love and peace will cover them like a warm blanket in the days to come.

Meanwhile, I'm also praying for a childhood friend who has been at the bedside of her dying father for weeks. Today she blogged that nothing has been left undone or unsaid, and though this time with him has been treasured and sweet, the agony of watching his suffering and waiting for his release to that eternal joy in Glory has become nearly unbearable.

Two special people, loved by their families and so many others and especially by God. One is taken so quickly our heads are spinning, and the other, ready and eager now to be reunited with his precious wife in Heaven, suffers and waits.

I don't understand why in either case. As I have pondered it, however, God has reminded me of two things.

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful servants." Psalm 116:15. They are HIS servants, HIS children, and I fully trust that he sees them and loves them through the transition from this life to the next, no matter how fast or slow that may be.

Second, I am reminded of God's words in Isaiah 55:9, "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." God knows what he is doing, whether or not I understand it. And I take great comfort in that. How could I worship a God small enough for me to wrap my brain around? That would put God on my level, and, well, I think you can get my point.

My faith tells me that God is sovereign, so I can trust that there is a divine purpose in all he does in life and death. My faith reminds me that God loves his children, so I can trust in his promise of salvation and eternal life. My faith upholds me, so in my weakness I can rest in the sufficiency of God's grace.

For all those who are hurting, who are questioning, who are waiting, who are struggling: may you choose faith in the sovereign God who loves you, rest in his grace, and be comforted by his peace.

Unmasking Halloween

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Wed, 15 Oct 2014 19:06:00 +0000

Halloween has always been stressful to me. I'm not the most creative person when it comes to putting together a costume, so even as a kid, it always felt like so much pressure. I guess that's why I don't really have many fond memories of childhood Halloweens. Of course I recall the fun of trick-or-treating, I just can't really remember a single costume I wore. When my children came along, the pressure to create the perfect costume seemed even greater. Fortunately, they always looked cute and never really seemed to care whether or not they won any costume contests.

Before the Halloween that I, dressed as Pebbles from the Flintstones, met my future husband who was donning a cowboy get-up at the time, there is really only one that sticks out in my memory. I was a recent college graduate, working in a small town and living in my own apartment for the first time. It probably sounds silly, but I remember the excitement I felt as I was buying candy to hand out to the trick-or-treaters who would be coming to the door, MY door in MY place.

That night, I settled in front of the TV with a big bowl of candy by my side. I waited eagerly for the first knock at the door, so excited to see cute little kids in their costumes.

I waited. And I waited. And I waited some more. Not. One. Knock.

I was deflated, disappointed, and depressed. Since I had only arrived in town and started my job a few weeks before, I really didn't know anyone other than a few co-workers. I took a chance and called one, and as it turns out, she was having exactly the same kind of night. She was more than happy to accept my invitation to come over. We had the best time talking and laughing and enjoying a sugar buzz together!

With another Halloween approaching, I found myself thinking about that night. That Halloween doesn't stand out because of the costumes or the trick-or-treaters. It stands out because it was the first time that I felt like I had made a friend in my new community. We bonded over loneliness and laughter, commiseration and candy. We even went on to become roommates for a while. All these years later, time and distance between us, I'm still happy to be able to call her my friend.

Relationship. That's what it's all about. I made a friend that Halloween night because I summoned up the courage to reach out. We may not be in close touch like we used to be, but we've remained friends because I think we've both been able to summon the courage through the years to be real and transparent with one another during good times and bad. I know if I saw her tomorrow, we could pick up right where we left off.

I need to do better at being real and transparent in all my relationships. Halloween may be a night for costumes and masks, but every other day should be about taking them off, sharing our real selves, building real relationships, being real friends.

Minding the Head and Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Wed, 26 Feb 2014 18:45:00 +0000

I had to get my head examined today...again. I can just hear the jokes and wisecracks, thank you very much.

It was the annual brain MRI to keep an eye on things upstairs. I really do not like those things. Fortunately I don't get claustrophobic, as some people do. It's just really not comfortable lying on that hard table, and having to keep your head in one position without moving it for an hour. And then there's the dreaded IV, for the contrasting dye they have to inject at the halfway point. Definitely not an enjoyable way to start the day!

As I lay there grumbling in my mind about it, my thoughts drifted to a childhood friend. She has fought a lengthy and courageous battle with brain cancer, which now appears to be winning. Her doctors have exhausted every treatment and clinical trial available, and now she is at home, drifting in and out of consciousness, her heartbroken family gathered around to soak up every precious moment they have left with her.

While we continue to pray for healing this side of heaven for my sweet friend, it's entirely possible that she will, soon, be entering the arms of her Savior. There is deep sorrow in that, but deep joy, for her, as well.

Suddenly I began to feel a lot more comfortable in that cold, hard, magnetic imaging machine. My grumpy attitude turned to one of thankfulness for my own life and its many blessings. I am well, my MS is stable (I think), and even if it's not, hopefully the MRI will reveal to my doctor any concerns we may need to address. For all my friend has gone through, all I have heard for so long is how amazing her attitude has been, how she has kept her infectious smile and freely shared her faith throughout the whole ordeal.

So I started singing praise songs (to myself), and promptly settled into a place of peace.

Funny how I thought I was just getting my head examined. My heart got a check-up, too.

"You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you." Isaiah 26:3

Sorry, I didn't "See You at the Pole"

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Wed, 25 Sep 2013 15:34:00 +0000

I overheard a conversation this morning that keeps chewing on me, so that usually means I better get this off my chest.

Apparently today was "See you at the Pole," the annual event that draws students to gather around the flagpoles of their schools to pray in the morning before school starts. As usual, my family missed it. Actually, I didn't even know it was happening today, and somehow, we seem to miss it every year.

You know what? I'm okay with that. But the woman I overheard this morning obviously was not. She was bashing her teenaged son for not getting out the door early enough to go. By this time, he was already at school and she was bad-mouthing him to someone else.

Now, I don't know this family's story, so I want to be careful to not pass judgement on them. I got the impression, however, at least from the mom, that these kinds of public displays of their faith are very important to them, and she was obviously quite displeased with her "slacker" son.

I wonder, what kind of impression was her attitude making on the one she was speaking to? I wonder how she would feel about me and my family if she were to read this post and see that I'm okay with my kids missing See You at the Pole. Would it be a good thing for them to go? Sure! But does it mean they are lazy slackers and poor witnesses to their faith if they miss it? I would certainly hope not!

One of the things I love so much about God is that he doesn't expect us to adhere to a set of man-made rules in order to follow him. That's called legalism and it can be ugly and hurtful. Jesus set us free from all that. He wants us to love him and love our neighbors, and he leads us to do that in all kinds of ways that are individual to each of us. Some may feel very much called to attend an event such as See You at the Pole on any given day. For someone else, maybe God didn't prompt them to go because he knew they would need the extra sleep in order to serve him in some other way. Who are we to judge what we can't possibly know?

I don't mean to sound like I'm criticizing See You at the Pole. I think it's a great event and serves an important purpose. But another concern I do have is when people use things like that as a platform for "putting God back in schools." That's another thing I love about God. He is so big, how can we possibly be so arrogant as to think that we can remove him from anywhere, or for that matter, put him anywhere? God has not left the schools. If there is even one Christian in the building, he is there, because the Holy Spirit resides in that person's heart. I pray every day that my daughters have the courage and conviction to live out their faith in school and out, no matter where they are. All that's required for that to happen is a love for the Lord, not a once a year gathering around a flagpole.

A Burger With a Side of Tears

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Fri, 16 Aug 2013 21:03:00 +0000

It was supposed to be a quick trip to the grocery store, an easy grab and go. Instead, I wasted a full five minutes just standing in the meat department, pretending to peruse packages of ground beef. I must have looked like quite the comparison shopper, but anyone who ventured close would have seen that I was really blubbering like a complete fool and trying to hide my face from public view.

Two days earlier we had moved our eldest daughter into her freshman dorm at college nearly six hours away. It was difficult for all of us, but I managed the fewest amount of tears and had kept my emotions fairly well under control since returning home. That is, until I tried to buy the blasted meat.

Normally if we're grilling burgers, I like to buy the ground beef and season and form the patties myself. But this time I was in a hurry, so I thought I would just pick up a package of pre-formed patties. Big mistake. The patties came in packages of four. We are a family of four, but with one at college there are only three of us at home. And just like that, I was overcome with an avalanche of tears I had been fighting back for days. Right there in Kroger. In the meat department. With hamburger patties in my hand.

It took a few minutes for me to collect myself and make it to the front of the store, red face and all, to check out. Of course my neighbor would be there, and of course knowing we had just taken Kaelie to school very sweetly asked how we were adjusting to life as a family of three. Life really is all about timing, isn't it? More tears, and I know I mumbled something and tried to smile, then high-tailed it out of there with my four-pack of burgers before I could run into anyone else.

Another week has passed, and all in all I think we're doing pretty well. My daughter is having a great time and settling in well at school and just completed her first week of classes. It's hard to be sad when I see how excited she is to be starting this next phase of her life journey. But more importantly, I know, I KNOW, that she is going to soar.

The best reassurance about that I could have ever received came in the gift she gave me for my birthday last month. It's a canvas wall-hanging with verses from 1 Corinthians 13, known as the "love chapter" in the Bible.

The wall-hanging reads "Love is patient, Love is kind. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

It's a beautiful passage of Scripture, and I, like many others, had it read it my wedding. But here's the best part about this birthday gift. Kaelie told me she remembered it because one time a few years ago when she and her sister were fighting I made them get out their Bibles, look up and read this passage and think about how they were treating one another.

Honestly, I have no recollection of doing that. Ever. But the fact that she remembers and it obviously had an impact is all that matters. The fact that she would later give me these words on my birthday just a few weeks before leaving for college spoke volumes to me. Through this one simple gift and this lovely passage of Scripture, God reminded me that she is well-prepared. Our daughter is going out into the world wrapped in the love of her family, her church, and her God, and His love, especially, will never fail her.

To my friends who will be taking their "babies" off to college in the coming days, a word of advice. Stick to salad, it's healthier than a burger anyway. Better yet, feast on the Word of God. There's really no better comfort food!

I'm in Boot Camp and God is in the Bathroom

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 22:55:00 +0000

Bitter frustration. That's all I felt as I made a quick exit to the restroom to dry my tears. I had wanted so badly to see an improvement in my timed mile run, but thanks to painful shin splints I developed last week, I was just lucky to be able to finish it at all. With each step, it felt like daggers in my shins, and tears of anger and frustration blurred my eyes to the finish.

I know it sounds ridiculous that this would be something to cry over. But you have to understand that signing up for this 6-week Boot Camp Challenge was a huge leap of faith for me. I have let myself get so far out of shape that getting back into an exercise program of any sort meant swallowing a boatload of pride and fear. There is a lot of emotional junk that gets all tangled up with being overweight and out of shape. I realized, though, that if my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 16:19-20), then I have to do something about the terribly shabby living conditions I'm giving Him. So, I prayed for help with that, and it came in the form of Boot Camp!

Today was the last day of my first 6-week session and we were doing the same assessments we did on the first day.

"Why," I reasoned, "would God allow shin splints to hinder me? Didn't he understand how important these assessments were to me today? How else can I measure my progress?"

As I stood there in the rest room drying my tears and complaining to the Lord, He graciously whispered back to my spirit. "You're using human standards to measure your progress."

Who says God doesn't give immediate responses to prayer? He spoke to me in the bathroom, in direct response to my frustrated cries! I understood immediately, and it was all I needed to hear.

My loving Savior was reminding me that he blesses obedience. In getting all worked up over whether or not I was improving my time, I was allowing myself to slip back to my old ways of thinking that this exercise program was all about me. What happened to improving the living conditions for Him?

At least for today, that gentle whisper was all it took to adjust my attitude so that I could soldier on. Through the next assessments, I meditated on Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through him who gives me strength." And guess what? I was able to do five more push-ups than I did at the beginning, and 21 additional crunches!

The other day I was allowing the shin splints to cause me to question whether I should continue with Boot Camp. But this soldier has re-upped for the next six weeks and I am sticking with it! As for the shin splints, ice, Biofreeze, ibuprofen, and shin-strengthening exercises on the stairs will hopefully bring them under control. Until then, I will run with perseverance the race marked out for me, fixing my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith. (Heb. 12:1-2)

Hannah's Prayer

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Thu, 15 Nov 2012 17:41:00 +0000

With Thanksgiving approaching, I am feeling thankful for the gift of prayer. I thought it was worth posting this devotional I wrote 12 years ago.

The other day my husband was holding our daughter Hannah while he was visiting with his aunt and uncle. She's only two and a half, and had apparently been clamoring for her daddy's undivided attention, as children are apt to do when their parents are trying to having a conversation with anyone other than them. As he held her, something caught her attention. It was his necklace, specifically the gold cross which dangled from the chain. Gingerly, she to took in her chubby fingers and began a conversation of her own in a voice so quiet that only her daddy could hear. It went something like this:

"Dear God, Thank you for this whole day. Thank you for Daddy and Mommy and Sissy and Uncle Jeremy. In Jesus' name we pray. Aaa-men."

Did I mention that Hannah is only two and a half?

Her daddy may have been the only one standing there who heard it, but you can bet someone else did, too. There's no doubt in my mind that God was listening and he had to have been smiling!

At her very tender age, Hannah is learning to talk to God. She's talking to him on her own, without prompting, at times other than bedtime. She has even made the connection that the cross is something significant, something much more than a shiny piece of trendy jewelry.

Her innocent prayer has taught me volumes about my own faith and the legacy I leave my children. I may not always be there for them (as much as I would like to be), but God promises to be there. I believe that God has given me a responsibility to teach my children how to find him. I can't think of a better way to do that than by example...taking them to church, teaching them to pray, praying together as a family.

The Bible instructs us to pray without ceasing, and that if we present our requests to God with thanksgiving, then the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard our hearts and minds. Amid all the turmoil that life can hold, what a relief to know that when I ask, God will protect my heart and mind with a sense of peace. How wonderful to know that same peace is there for my children, too, as they learn to go to God in prayer.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7)

Tweeting, Texting, and, Oh Yeah, Talking!

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Tue, 02 Oct 2012 18:56:00 +0000

Last Spring I horrified my children by joining the Twitterverse. "Mom," they complained. "Twitter is the only place left that isn't patrolled by parents!"

"Exactly," I replied. "All the more reason for me to set up an account!"

The truth is, my girls were the ones who led me to Twitter, even though that wasn't their intent. It was one night when they were all abuzz over a nasty Twitter-fight because some older girls were bullying some younger ones with ugly "sub-tweeting." For those who are still in the dark about Twitter, sub-tweeting is posting a comment directed towards a specific person or group, but without mentioning them by name so that if someone were to call you out on it, you can use the excuse "oh, that wasn't even about you!" It's basically saying what you really wish you could say to a person to tell them off, or to make them look or feel foolish, but would never have the nerve or the indecency to do in person.

So what makes it any less indecent to do in cyberspace? When did passive-aggressiveness become acceptable behavior? What is happening to open and direct communication? When I can say to someone "when you do this it makes me feel (fill in the blank: hurt, rejected, angry, etc.)," I am offering them the chance to make things right, to fix the situation and mend our relationship. I am letting them know that I regard them highly enough to even want to mend our relationship in the first place. It creates a starting point for clearing the air.

I believe it works the other way around, too. I see people who "like" and "retweet" and "favorite" comments on the various social media, but struggle with offering apologies or forgiveness in person. Just like with the ugly subtweets, cyberspace offers us the ability to hit and run. In other words, to say "I'm sorry" or "I forgive you" electronically and quickly move on to the next post, text, or tweet without really even giving it a thought. Where is the sincerity in that?

What happened to getting face to face to say those things? There is character development in looking someone in the eye and summoning the courage to say what needs to be said. And what about taking it a step further and following up with a handshake or a hug? Eye contact, voice inflection, touch. So important in conveying our sincerity and truly clearing the air and breaking through hurt and anger.

As for Twitter, I very rarely tweet anything, I follow very few people and have even fewer following me. I'm really only on it for the purpose of keeping up with my girls. Please don't be disappointed by my lack of tweets or retweets. I am really not that interesting or fabulous that you need to know my every thought or what I'm eating at every meal. But if you really have a burning desire to know those things, please call me. I'd love to chat, or go to lunch.

Staring Down Anger

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Tue, 21 Aug 2012 22:42:00 +0000

Five months have passed since I got the call. "I want to make sure you're sitting down," my friend said. "I have some really bad news." What an understatement that turned out to be. Shocking, tragic, gut-wrenching news would have been a more accurate description. How else could you possibly begin to describe the suicide of a beautiful, vibrant, 17 year-old girl?

The girl she was telling me about was the daughter of a mutual friend who was my former roommate and work colleague. I hadn't seen the girl, or her mother, in a couple of years. Like so many relationships, it had become more about keeping up with each other on Facebook, family Christmas cards, and once in a blue moon phone calls. Nevertheless, they are people I care a great deal about and Jocelyn's death has shaken me deeply.

Yesterday, I spent some time perusing her Facebook wall. There have been daily postings from family members and friends telling her how much they love and miss her, how certain songs bring her to mind, and how they wish she was there to do certain things with them. My own daughter, who is the same age and just started back to school, posted how she wished Jocelyn could experience her senior year, too, and all the excitement that goes along with it.

Interestingly enough, no one seems to have expressed any anger. Yet, anger is exactly what I'm feeling at this point. I barely knew the girl, but I'm mad, even though I probably don't have any right to be. I'm mad at the people who were apparently subjecting her to cyber-bullying. I'm mad at her for what I'm betting was an impulsive decision borne from her own anger and pain. I'm mad that she didn't stop and think and pray it through. I'm mad that God didn't do something to intervene. I'm mad that her little sister doesn't have her big sister to look up to and share life with anymore. I'm mad that she didn't tell her parents about the bullying, and instead robbed them of the opportunity to watch her finish growing up, graduate, go to college, get married, be grandparents to her children. They adored her and I know they would've moved heaven and earth to help her!

There's more, but it's all wrapped up in my own junk that seems unfair to dump on her. Junk like guilt for feeling mad at a hurting, emotional, 17 year-old girl. Junk like reading her mom's blog about her own pain while I was at the beach with my family, crying my eyes out over the raw grief she was pouring out and feeling angry that she had to suffer that. Junk like the tentacles of fear that have started creeping in and tugging at my psyche when my own teenage daughters let their emotions get the best of them. "Is it just a rant? Do I need to worry? Should I check on her in her room?" Junk like the anger that has resurfaced towards my father-in-law for taking his own life 17 years ago, three months before the birth of his first grand-child, my oldest daughter. Remembering the hurt in my husband's eyes when he said "Dad's never been there for anything else in my life, I don't know why I would've thought he would be here for this," and desperately wishing I could take that pain away from him. So much junk...

I really needed to write this because writing is therapeutic for me. It's the best way I know to sort out my feelings, to name them for what they are, stare them down, and hopefully move past them. But I debated this time whether to do it in this public forum. I love this girl's family and the last thing I would ever want to do is cause them anymore pain. I pray that if my grieving friend reads this that in her own writer's heart she will understand.

I decided on the public post because I believe that sometimes we think it's wrong to feel and express anger over tragedies. Suicide, especially, leaves us all feeling awkward and helpless and unsure of how to respond or what to say. Maybe what we need is permission to acknowledge and voice those feelings, and if that's what this blog gives to someone else then I can feel good about that.

And should someone considering suicide happen to stumble across this post, know that you would be leaving a trail of pain and heartache and confusion that reaches much farther than you can even fathom. There are so many resources available...ask for help! And please, please, please remember that where there is life, there is always hope.

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

Winds of Change

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Tue, 14 Aug 2012 12:44:00 +0000

My heart just walked out the door. It's Kaelie's LAST first day of school, which means first day of senior year for her and first day of freshman year for Hannah. To mark the occasion, I thought I would post something that I wrote 12 years ago after Kaelie started kindergarten.

I must have spent the entire summer in a state of denial. My firstborn was about to start kindergarten and it didn't bother me in the least. My husband practically broke down in tears at every mere mention of it. "Oh, but she's so excited and so ready for it," I would say.

Then it hit me, about a week before school was to start. All the carefree time I had had with her for five years was about to end. FOREVER. That's when the guilt set in. You know the kind, typical mommy guilt that you know is silly but you just can't help feeling because after all, it's one of the requirements of motherhood. "Oh, I didn't do this with her. Oh, we didn't get to do that or go there." No matter that I had given up a successful and rewarding career and traded my designer wardrobe for spit-up-stained and sticky finger-smeared t-shirts. I was going to feel guilty about not doing enough because doggone it, I was a mother and I was entitled to all the guilt I could muster.

I got over that. It was the morning her daddy and I walked her to the bus stop in front of our house. It felt like walking a plank. Suddenly all guilt was gone and the only thing I felt was raw fear.

"What if the bus driver is a maniac? What if she gets lost? What if she drops her lunch tray or dawdles too long and doesn't get to eat? What if her TEACHER is a maniac? What if she breaks her neck on the playground? What if someone hurts her feelings and I'm not there to take the hurt away? What if, what if, what if..."

There she was, looking so small and sweet in her little blue and white checkered dress with the red appliqued apples ("because teachers like apples, Mommy"), the bow in her hair and the pink Barbie backpack.

And suddenly there IT was, that very large yellow bus looming before us. She started to charge up the steps before I could even say goodbye. She wasn't even looking back. I had to yell her name for one last kiss and "I love you." Then she was gone, and so was my life as I had known it for the last five years. I hugged two year-old Hannah a little tighter and blinked back the tears.

In the days since the fear has subsided. She comes home from school beaming with joy, and charges down the bus steps to my waiting arms as eagerly as she charged up that first morning. She's still my baby and every day I thank God for the love we share and the arms that He's given us to wrap around each other.

Through this, God has also taught me a lesson in loosening my grasp. Even though the winds have changed and for seven hours during the day she sails off in a different direction from me He is still with her, watching over her and guiding her all day long.

We're reminded of this in Hebrews 13:8. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." What a comfort, Just as He is there for her at school all day, He's there for me and for all of us, whenever we loosen our grip on our lives and let Him be.

Gettin' Sappy

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Thu, 02 Aug 2012 01:57:00 +0000

If anyone had told me that a trip to the Snappy Lube for an oil change would inspire a blog post, I probably would've just laughed. But that's exactly what has happened, so here goes...

Let me begin with just a bit of background. In just three more months, my Honda Oddyssey will be 10 years old. It's the longest I've ever driven one vehicle, but it's also the first I've ever purchased brand new. When my husband and I bought it the day before Thanksgiving in 2002, it was after weeks of waiting to see if the Honda dealer near us would ever get a red one. The day I saw it through the showroom window was the day we brought it home. But it didn't stay there long because three days later we strapped in our girls, then ages 4 and 7, and took off on a road trip to Disney! It was the first of many trips and adventures in that van, and I guess that's why the unexpected question from the Snappy Lube service technician sent me on a sappy trip down memory lane.

"You've kept that van in good shape. You gonna be looking to sell it anytime soon?"

"Should I be," I asked? "Well no, those Hondas will run forever if you take care of them. I just wondered since you've gotten some miles on it if you might be getting ready for something new."

"Nah, with a daughter starting college in a year I don't want a car payment," I replied. "I'll probably drive this one until it's falling apart around me!"

I paid my bill and left, and as I began to pull out of the parking lot the realization of what I had just said hit me full force. I braked and turned around to look behind me, half expecting to see two little girls coloring or playing with their Polly Pockets. I blinked at the empty seats, knowing full well that Kaelie was hundreds of miles away on a youth group mission trip and Hannah was hanging out with a friend. How has the time gone so fast?

For the rest of the drive home, I was flooded with memories of time spent in that van. Countless trips to visit grandparents at opposite ends of the state, to Georgia to visit family and friends, beaches in the Carolinas, twice to NYC and again to Disney, Thanksgiving in Pensacola, and more trips to volleyball, softball, and soccer games and tournaments than I can even begin to count.

So many good times, so many wonderful memories. As I drove I found myself smiling as I reminisced over all the travel games we played to keep young children occupied. The songs we sang and the laughter we shared. And yes, even the "don't make me pull this car over" moments! I thought about the day we got our puppy, Ginger, who turned 9 years old last spring, and the joy on the faces of those two little girls as they climbed into their seats to bring their new friend home. I pictured the van during the many times that it has been filled with kids, and laughed again at some of the funny conversations I've overheard from behind the steering wheel.

I also let my mind wander to more diffiuclt times. Heated arguments, driving to and from funerals, sitting numbly in the passenger seat as Joey drove me home from the doctor's office after learning I have MS, wondering if our lives would ever be the same. Tearfully worshiping on more than one occasion as music from my favorite contemporary Christian radio station came through the speakers to soothe my anxious soul.

As my mind continued to wander, I noticed the places on the steering wheel that my hands have worn smooth. I remembered watching Kaelie's hands nervously gripping the wheel in the same spots as she learned to drive, all the while nervously gripping the passenger door armrest myself! Now she drives her own car, and she's not in the van with me nearly as often. I've realized just how much good conversation has taken place with her there, and the need to work harder now to create those opportunities. At the same time, I'm also appreciating the one on one time with Hannah, and the conversations that we get to have. That vehicle has been the scene of a lot of good talks...and tears...and laughter.

Of late, the van has been transporting us to various college tours. In another year we'll be loading it with all of Kaelie's stuff. It will take my baby girl away to some dorm room on some campus somewhere, and it will carry the rest of us tearfully home without her. And very soon after, Hannah's hands will take their place on the smooth spots of the steering wheel, and I will once again nervously grip the passenger door armrest while teaching her to drive.

Yes, a lot of life has happened in that red 2003 Honda Oddyssey. But God willing there's oh so much more to look forward to, and I'm determined to savor every moment.

Wow. All this from an ordinary visit to the Snappy (okay, "sappy") Lube. Who knew?

Would Someone Please Stop This Treadmill?!

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Fri, 18 May 2012 16:22:00 +0000

We knew it was coming all year long. The dreaded 8th grade Community Service Project. And now here it is, only one week of school left to go, and my darling daughter is still trying to get it done. Is it just me, or do the last few weeks of the school year drive everyone bonkers?

First of all, why should the community service project be dreaded at all? What's so bad about learning to do your part to help out in your community? Nothing, actually. In truth, I really love this project. I think it's wonderful in that it teaches kids that they are needed and that they are never too young to pitch in somewhere, somehow. It teaches them how to seek out opportunities for serving, and to maybe even get a little creative with it. It promotes empathy and compassion, and hopefully cultivates a desire to give back and to help others. No, nothing at all wrong with this project!

The problem, I hate to admit, starts right here at home. We are so scheduled, maybe even over-scheduled, that it is really difficult and even somewhat stressful trying to fill the required 10 hours. I was thinking the other day that it sure would be nice if the project could be stretched out over two of the 6-week grading periods instead of just one. Then I had to catch myself. Should it really be this hard to find 10 hours over the course of six whole weeks in which to help others? I mean really, it feels kind of shameful.

I'm happy that my children have been involved in athletics, church activities, Bible studies, the Young Life ministry, and all the other things that they do. They are all positive things which have helped them to grow and develop into wonderul young ladies. But I sometimes wonder if I have failed them as a mom by allowing them to keep their days booked to the point that it is difficult and stressful to fit in time for other worthwhile things, or those unexpected interruptions which often end up being the most meaningful moments of all.

I was just with a couple of girlfriends who were talking about the sense of entitlement that is prevalent among so many of today's young people. What better way to combat that than teaching them the value of community service? I don't want to send a message to my girls that doing our part to help our community should be low on the priority list, something to do only when it fits neatly into our jam-packed schedules, but sometimes I feel like we're on a treadmill that keeps getting faster. How do I slow it down??

Hannah and her friend Genna conducting a food/supply drive at Kroger for victims of domestic & sexual violence.

Hot Water and Cold Reality

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Tue, 08 May 2012 20:12:00 +0000

I squealed, loudly, as icy water invaded my scalp. The hot water heater had gone out overnight, and by morning, the water was downright cold. Shockingly cold, really, as it cascaded over my head and down my neck. "This is terrible, not the way to start my day," I grumbled aloud while leaning over the tub. I was much too wimpy to actually take a shower, and had decided to brave just a quick hair wash.

And quick it was! I almost opted to forego the conditioner once I got through the shampooing, but then decided that attempting to brush out the tangles that were sure to result would be more painful than a couple more minutes of cold water.

As I finished up and began twisting my hair into a towel turban on top of my head, the photo attached to the top of the mirror caught my eye. Sweet little Keily, the child my family sponsors through Compassion International, was smiling at me as always. I keep her picture there so that I will see her and be reminded to pray for her daily. But seeing her this time was different. It was as if the sweet little face smiling back at me was saying "I sure would love to have that nice bathroom in my house. How lucky you are to have that cold tap water!"

Isn't it amazing who and what God uses to prick our consciences? To make us see just how spoiled we are, and how much we take for granted? I mean, did I have to leave my house to hike for miles to the nearest filthy water hole to fill a bucket of dirty water to carry home on top of my head? Nope, I was right in the comfort of my suburban American home, simply turning a faucet for all the clean water I needed. And yet I grumbled because it was cold, which in itself is probably a luxury in places like Honduras where Keily lives.

Today I will be grateful for the luxuries in my life. And I think I will find one of those organizations that builds wells for villages in third world countries to have clean water and send a donation. One small gesture of appreciation for all the ways in which God has blessed me. Might I challenge you to consider doing the same?

A Hokie Today

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 13:15:00 +0000

Sirens. Lots of them, all day, unrelenting. That's the first thing that enters my mind when I remember the events of April 16th, 2007. The sirens and the unsettling, anxious feeling of knowing something terrible must be happening. What was it? Where? Who?

I was sitting in my doctor's office hardly able to breathe for the sinus crud. Then the news on the waiting room television really took my breath way. "Would you please turn up the volume?" someone asked. Then, more emphatically, "turn it up, turn it up!" Frightening images of police officers wielding large weapons on the Virginia Tech campus, just a mile down the road. Sketchy details of a shooting, and a shooter still on the loose. Warnings for everyone on campus and in the town of Blacksburg to stay indoors. Lockdowns for our children in their schools.

By late afternoon we all found ourselves in a state of shock. Thirty-two innocent victims dead, others wounded, and a shooter who had taken his own life. Unimaginable horror. Here, in sleepy little Blacksburg. Could this be real?

Today I will renew my prayers for the families and friends of those who died. For those who were left injured and otherwise traumatized. For the police and rescue personnel who will always carry with them horrible, unspeakable images. For all of Virginia Tech and the town of Blacksburg. And I think I will make an effort to leave a little trail of kindness around town today. Like the person ahead of me in the Starbucks line did two days after "that day" five years ago, buying a gift card and leaving it with the cashier to treat others until the card ran out, just to show that there was still goodness in the world. A small gesture with a big impact.

Today my daughters have donned their Hokie attire for Hokie Spirit day at school. My husband wore his Virginia Tech golf shirt to work. As for me, this die-hard Georgia Bulldog is sporting a Hokie t-shirt. None of us have any affiliation with the university other than the fact that we live in Blacksburg. And if you lived in Blacksburg on that horrific day five years ago, you will always be a little bit of a Hokie in your heart. You couldn't live here and not experience the heartache, the grief, the anger. We all have a story of "that day." We all still get a little anxious when we hear sirens that go on a little too long. We all knew...someone. And by the grace of God, we all will prevail.

From Weary to Rest

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Tue, 10 Apr 2012 16:59:00 +0000

Do people ever make you feel weary? I mean, I can feel annoyed or angry or frustrated with people sometimes, but weary is different. Weary is heavy. Weary says "I don't know if I can do this anymore," or at the very least, "I really need a break." Sometimes, it borders on hopelessness. I guess that's why Jesus said "come to me, you who are weary and burdened..." (Matthew 11:28) Weary and burdened go hand in hand, one dragging the other until they both collapse, exhausted.

There are all kinds of things that make us feel weary and burdened. Work stress, illness, financial strain, busyness, you get the idea. I'm sure we could add to this list all day long. For me, today, it's people.
And somehow, that just feels awful.

When God gives me tough situations, I'm trying to learn to look for the lessons he wants to teach me through them. Today, I think it's the next part of the verse, the dot-dot-dot that I left out above. "Come to me, you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (italics added) I believe he's telling me to stop fretting and commit these people to him. There are some burdens I can't share or carry, and by trying, I will only become more weary. And there are some people who just need to find their rock bottom, and they never will if allowed to hop from one weary person's shoulders to the next.

Instead of weariness, I think I will cling to thankfulness for the offer of rest. It doesn't mean I will give up the praying or extending compassion, just the burden of worry and of trying to be the "fixer." After all, there is only one Savior, and it's definitely not me. We can all let out a big sigh of relief on that!

On the String of a Blue Balloon

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 15:06:00 +0000

The flowers were vibrant, but the girl with the personality to match wasn't there to enjoy them. The high school choir sang beautifully, but the voice of the girl who should've had the solo was missing. The blue balloons drifted and danced against fluffy, white clouds. One strayed from the rest to go it's own way. The girl's dad said she must have been carrying that one, going her own way, doing her own thing as always. Tension was broken. People laughed through their tears. A final goodbye as the balloons disappeared from sight.

Oh dear girl, you were only 17. So beautiful and talented.   So much to live for. So loved. What kept you from seeing that? The children's rhyme says "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." It's so wrong. Who made that up, anyway? Broken bones heal. Words that are cruel or thoughtless or bullying can inflict wounds that last a lifetime. In your case, did they cut your lifetime short?

I went to your memorial service needing to make sure your mom was surviving. To give her a hug and maybe even try to shake her awake from what was feeling like a very bad nightmare. You see, your mom and I go back a long way. Roommates. Work colleagues. Double dates. We even became moms within just few months of each other, thanks to you and my Kaelie. It was fun the times we got to watch you girls play together, and then with your baby sister Julia and and Kaelie's baby sister Hannah. Four little girls with so much promise, so much to look forward to.

Let me tell you how proud I was of your mom at that service. I think you would be, too. You should've heard the letter that she wrote and had the pastor's wife read. It was beautiful, the way she described you, her precious girl. She acknowledged your pain as well as her own. But she did something else that to me was most extraordinary.   Instead of allowing herself the luxury of anger and bitterness toward anyone who may have inflicted those wounds that hurt you most, she extended grace. She made it clear that no post, text, or tweet was responsible, nor could they have saved you or stopped you. You, dear, determined child, are the only one who bore responsibility for your final action in this life, and so she let you bear it. As your dad so eloquently put it in his own letter, you were a girl on fire, who felt things so deeply and so passionately. But ultimately, it was that fire that consumed you.

Grace. The unmerited favor of God that you chose at your baptism not so long ago. The one thing that can give those who hurt you another chance to get it right.  The thing that encourages the rest of us to follow your pastor's advice to honor your memory by living better and loving better. The thing that I believe has so far kept your devastated family going because it has no doubt been showered on them through the loving acts and prayers of many, many people. The one thing that enabled your mom and dad to give hugs, wipe tears from the faces of hurting teenagers, and offer comfort to everyone else, like me, who was breaking down around them.

Grace. The one thing that I am certain allowed you, sweet girl, to be welcomed into the arms of Jesus even when, in your final act, you strayed from his plan and took matters into your own hands. Grace that is leading you home, perhaps swinging freely, happily, on the string of a blue balloon. Rest in peace, Jocelyn, forever in the arms of Grace.

Call Me Mrs. Wishy-Washy

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 15:44:00 +0000

In case you haven't noticed, it's election season folks. Blah, blah, blah! When I was a reporter I hated covering politics and elections. Kind of ironic since I minored in political science, I guess the joke's on me!

The last few years, election time has been worse than ever. I suppose it's in large part due to the social media age in which we now live. For example, with a simple click I will send this into the blogosphere for anyone to read. And Facebook! Oh my gosh, it's impossible to get away from it if you dare to scroll through your newsfeed. Some people like to post their every opinion on every subject and every candidate,  along with articles to support their opinions and bash the candidates they don't like. I'm not saying it's necessarily a bad thing, as long as those same people are also willing to get involved in the process, write or call their representatives, and go to the polls on election day. Oh yeah, and if they don't just assume that I share their views, or get angry with me if I don't.

The other day my daughter asked me if I was a democrat or republican. I told her that I am a moderately conservative/liberal independent. I honestly didn't know how else to describe myself.  Some might say that makes me wishy-washy. Whatever. It's just the only way I've been able to figure out how to go about the process. It frustrates me when people who know me and know how much my Christian faith means to me just assume that I must be conservative and a rebublican. On the flip side, it is just as frustrating when others assume that because I spent my career as a tv news reporter that I must be part of the "liberal media," and therefore a democrat.

Really? Must we all have a label? Isn't it possible that some of us do try to consider the issues and the candidates prayerfully and conscientiously, without being expected to jump on a party bandwagon?

And while I'm on this little rant, must we publicly bash other people for taking a stand for what they believe? I'm going to go out on a limb here on behalf of Kirk Cameron, the actor who was asked a direct question on national television the other day and answered it. He didn't ask to be asked about his stance on gay marraige, but when he was, he spoke his conscience.  He didn't launch a hate campaign against specific individuals or against anyone else who doesn't share his views. He was simply drawn into the public discourse on the issue by an interviewer. Now people who don't agree with him are trashing him and circulating petitions and doing everything they can to smear and discredit him. No matter how we feel about this or any other issue, part of what makes our nation great is the freedom to have public discourse at all. Shouldn't we be more about guarding and appreciating that freedom, rather than tearing down others who don't share our views? Can't we be open-minded enough to at least listen to what others have to say?  Might we even pray and ask God to help us consider all sides of the issues and lead us in our conversations and decisions? What are we so afraid of, anyway?

This election season, I resolve to just relax and pray my way through it.  I will try to live into what the apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans: "Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God." (Rom. 13:1-2) Because I trust that God is sovereign, no matter who is elected I will trust that that person is in office because God has ordained him or her to be there, and whether that person realizes it or not, he or she will be used by God to carry out HIS purposes. God's Word gives me a much more solid foundation on which to stand than a party line every could.

A Monumental Day...NOT!

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 17:39:00 +0000

Yesterday I heard an elderly gentleman from my church remark that he couldn't believe how fast 2012 is already whizzing by, that we're already into the second week of February. Then he looked at me with concern in his eyes and said "I think it's been a good while since I've talked to you. How are you getting along?"

By the look on his face and tone of his voice, I knew he was referring to my "condition." And that's when it dawned on me. January had come and gone and I hadn't even realized it! I mean, of course I knew January was over and we had moved full steam into February. But it's the first time in the four years since receiving my diagnosis of multiple sclerosis on January 23rd that the date had slipped by without me even giving it a thought. The date which was so monumental just four years ago had moved back to being a date on which I simply wished two special people in my life a happy birthday.

Ahh, God has been so faithful and good to me! Four years ago my life was turned upside down and I was left with a choice. I could dwell on it and let my days be all about me and my circumstances, or I could learn to truly step outside of myself and ask God to show me each day how I might be of use to Him. This blog chronicles many of those early days of my journey, and it's so amazing to me when I go back and read some of those posts to see and realize all that God has done in my life.

What I've learned is that our lives really aren't so much about us as they are about other people. I have complete trust and faith that the best life is the one that will come after my time on this earth. My days here are numbered just like everyone else's, but they are so much richer and more blessed when I commit them to the Lord for His purposes!

Does that mean every day is easy and wonderful? Of course not. Some of them downright stink. But I know where to find my joy, and it's not in my circumstances.

That's why when my elderly friend asked me so sincerely how I was getting along, as realization of the date dawned on me I was able to respond with the same sincerity, "I'm great!. Thanks for asking. I'm really great!"

Praise God, the One who brings you through what He brings you to!

O Christmas Tree

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 21:03:00 +0000

"What is the deal with this tree?!"

My husband was struggling to get the Christmas tree we had just chopped down into the stand and it just would not cooperate. That's when we noticed the crazy trunk. From the base to it's 7 foot tall tip, it was as bent and crooked as it could be. It's amazing we hadn't noticed it in the field, but all we had looked at was the shape of it's lovely branches. It took some doing, but Joey finally managed to force the tree into the stand, and was able to adjust it so that it stood perfectly upright.

As I began to decorate the tree, I studied its trunk more closely. Somehow with every bend it had managed to correct itself with an upward turn. In places it appeared to have overcorrected, bending a little too much in the opposite direction. But nearer the top it had straightened out more and more, so that the angel only had to sit slightly crooked.

As I continued hanging lights and ornaments, I saw similar growth patterns in my own life, and a Bible verse came to mind. "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)

I recalled how insistent I was as a teenager that I would attend a certain college, and then I didn't get accepted. So I went somewhere else and wasn't happy, still determined that I would get into my first choice the next year. Well, guess what? I didn't.

I did end up transferring, but to a school I had never even considered. It just kind of fell into place through a series of circumstances. Once there I loved it, and wished I had been there for my freshman year. Eventually I discovered my broadcasting major, again something I had never considered and that wasn't even offered at the school that had been my first choice.

Upon graduation, I decided on the cities I would go to in search of a job to launch my career. I put 1700 miles on my car driving to interviews, only to be rejected time and again. Finally, to appease my parents I sent my resume to a tv station in a tiny town I never would've considered had I not REALLY needed a job. Wouldn't you know it was the only place of the dozens I applied that made an offer? So off I went, again determining to bide my time until I could get where I wanted to be.

In the two years I spent at that little tv station I gained valuable experience, learning from people who were good at what they did and were willing to put up with my amateur mistakes and show me the ropes. And better still, in that tiny town I met the wonderful and amazing above-mentioned man, who, while forcing the above-mentioned tree into its stand caused me to reflect on all this!

Let me get to the point. You can be sure that all those changes to MY plans came with a lot of tears and anxiety. After all, I knew exactly what I wanted and had mapped out how and where I was going to get it. But never once did I ask God about HIS plans for my life, which turned out to be so much better than anything I could've dreamed up.

So back to the tree trunk. The way I saw them, every bend and twist reminded me of myself running off in my own directions, chasing after my own plans. I've heard it said that we're either growing or we're dying. Well, it's kind of hard to keep growing sideways. If that tree had kept growing in a crazy outward direction it eventually would've fallen over. Every bend required correction in the form of an upward turn.

As I look back on those events and other plans I made for myself, I realize the frustration and pain experienced when they didn't work out so well was a result of the Lord's correction, setting me back on course with HIS plan, pruning my branches, if you will. And those are the places I see true and meaningful growth, growth that is upward and stretches heavenward just like the tree, because it's been cultivated by the One who promised to prosper me and give me hope and a future.

I don't live with any regret over past failures. Rather, I chose to live with resolve to follow Proverbs 3:5-6: "Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight." If I can do that, I know that he will make my life beautiful in his sight, just like my Christmas tree looked to me!

Bless This Mess!

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 15:37:00 +0000

So, my day started out with a bang. Actually I guess it was more like a splat, the sound my daughter's foot no doubt made when it landed in the poop our elderly, senile, feline friend deposited outside her litter box. Then there was the smear my daughter's foot left across the carpet before she realized she had stepped in said cat poop. Oh joy!

The fun didn't stop there. I walked into the kitchen and realized some mail that came yesterday that I was really interested in looking at was no longer on the counter where I had left it. My hubby, in an effort to be helpful, had deposited it into the kitchen trash can, which I then had the pleasure of sifting through in order to retrieve said mail. More joy! All this before 7:00a.m., and after the whole family had overslept!

Some days counting our blessings and being joyful is truly a choice that must be consciously made. So today my mantra is "This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." After all, the sun is shining, the sky is blue, the fall colors are beautiful. It's gonna be a great day!

Call Me an Egg-head!

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Tue, 29 Mar 2011 01:33:00 +0000

This morning I woke up with my to-do list already running through my mind. Nevertheless, I was determined to make it a great day, and a successful one as far as my food plan is concerned. After I ushered everyone out the door, I surveyed the fridge and pantry and wondered what in the world I would eat for breakfast. I'm really trying to cut back on the carbs, and I realized that's about all I eat for breakfast.

Finally, I decided that since there were plenty of eggs in the fridge I would go ahead and boil six. That way I would have a ready-made breakfast for the next several days. I put them on the stove to boil and decided to let the multi-tasking begin.

First stop, the laundry room. I started the first load of the day and before I could make it out of the basement the computer beckoned. I sat down to do a quick check of my email. That led to sending three replies, and then reading a really long story that someone forwarded to me. I don't usually read those forwards, I get a million and who has the time? But this one actually caught my attention so I sat and read it to the end.

Next it was on to a check of my Facebook. I sent a couple of happy birthday wishes, responded to a message in my inbox, posted on a friend's wall, then spent some time just scrolling through my newsfeed.
I have no idea how much time passed. It was the smell that finally pulled me from the Facebook vortex.

"What on earth is that?," I wondered aloud. And that's when my stomach growled, reminding me that I had not eaten breakfast because it was still boiling on the stove!

I have never taken the stairs in my house so fast in my life! I raced to the kitchen to find smoke beginning to curl up from the pot, now completely dry with six rock-hard eggs adhering to the bottom! After I cooled them down in some cold water, I broke a couple open. Those bad boys were charred almost halfway through! You can just imagine the smell in my house! But don't, seriously, you really don't want to know!

Once again, the Holy Spirit decided to use this unfortunate incident to teach me a lesson. The number one item on my to-do list when I woke up this morning was to finish working on my Bible study. I'm a group leader so it was imperative to get it done. I had it all spread out on the kitchen table with plans to enjoy my eggs and juice while I worked on it. However, I let the computer take over my brain and suck me into the emailing/Facebook vortex. Now don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying that email and social networking sites are wrong. But they can be major distractions that keep us from the things that we really should be doing. For me, they ended up derailing my two most important things of the morning, my Bible study and my healthy eating plan! Not the way I wanted to start my day, or my week, for that matter.

Proverbs 4:25-27 says "Let your eyes look straight ahead, fix your gaze directly before you.
Make level paths for your feet and take only ways that are firm.
do not swerve to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil."

The sad fact is that I even spent some quality time in prayer before all this happened. I need to remember though, to daily ask the Lord to order my steps and help me keep my eyes fixed on him. On my own it's too easy to let the seemingly good things of the world distract me from the better things of the kingdom! Those are the times I can end up with egg on my face, instead of in my belly!

In Pursuit of Weakness

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 17:56:00 +0000

It just figures that I would choose one of the most challenging and emotionally topsy-turvy weeks ever to embark on this new journey of healthier eating and (hopefully) weight loss. When you are an emotional eater like I am, high-stress days usually mean high-intake of comfort foods and chocolate!

I won't go into details of the cause of the stress. That would take a book, not a blog post! The point is that at this point, I am feeling just about mentally and emotionally wrung-out! A big 'ol bowl of double fudge chocolate ice cream with hot fudge on top would do quite nicely right about now, thank you very much!

All I could do this morning was pray "Lord, help me be strong." And do you know what? I received an immediate response! How often does that happen?

It came in the form of a question:

"Do you really want to pray to be strong?"

"Um, what?"

Silence.

"Okaaay, there are other people who really need me to be strong right now."

Silence.

And then it dawned on me. "Oh Lord, help me to be weak. I need and want to be utterly and completely dependent on you, because it's only from that place of dependence that I find wisdom, peace, and rest. It's only from that place of dependence that I am able to be any good for anyone else. Thank you for reminding me of that. So yes, Lord, help me to be WEAK!"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I felt much calmer, just in knowing that the Sovereign Lord who created the heavens and set the earth on its foundations certainly could and would work in this situation. How gracious of Him to settle my spirit by whispering into my ear this morning, even teaching me how to pray!

So I guess it really is no coincidence at all that I started on this new personal journey during this most difficult and stressful week. It's not a journey that I can make on my own, but only by holding on to the hand of the One who promised to help me every step of the way.

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power my rest on me."
2 Corinthians 12:9

Goodbye Babylon

noreply@blogger.com (Tracy) — Wed, 23 Mar 2011 22:59:00 +0000

Let me start by saying that I am writing this post not because I want to, but because I have to. It's been swirling around in my brain for a week and will not let me go, so finally, here I sit, compelled to write. I'm pretty certain I know the reasons that I have to write this post. The first is for the accountability that comes from going public. The second is for the humbling, because it definitely is that. This isn't the kind of information that I would normally be revved up to share!

So what on earth am I talking about? Well, I am very excited to say that I have experienced a huge breakthrough that I know without a doubt is going to be life-changing. Some of you who stumble across this post will peruse it and say "okay, whatever." That's fine, I get that. But I believe that the third reason that I am compelled to write it is for the benefit of the ones who will read it and say "Oh how I needed these words. Thank you, God!"

Without further ado, here is my story:

Recently in Bible study we have been in the book of Isaiah learning about the exile of the Jews in Babyon. These people were violently swept from their homes and their nation and forced to live as slaves in capitivity for 70 long and painful years. It came about as a result of their continued disobedience and inattention to God, and was nothing of which they had not been repeatedly warned. Basically, they had turned their backs on God and the abundant life He had offered them in the promised land in order to go their own way and follow their worthless idols.

So all that got me thinking about the worthless idols in my own life, the things that keep me from living my life to the fullest and that get in the way of my relationship with the Lord. The list was long, I'm afraid. The biggest were time-stealers like tv, and Facebook. I even had to include my own family on the list. More often than not I will put them, their activities and their needs before everthing else, and time and attention to my relationship with Christ takes a back seat.

For me, however, I realized that the biggest and most destructive idol in my life has been food. My relationship with food has caused me to pack on way too many pounds and has probably contributed to health issues as well. You see, instead of running first to the Lord when I'm sad or angry, I have chosen to stuff those emotions down with food. Instead of celebrating first with the Lord when I'm happy or excited, I tend to boost those emotions even higher by celebrating with food (and family, and friends.) For most of my life, I have made food my primary source of comfort and joy, rather than seeking those things in and from the Lord as he desires. "I am the LORD, that is my name! I will not give my glory to another or my praise to idols." (Isaiah 42:8)

So it was with that understanding and realization churning through my mind and heart that I read the words of the LORD through Isaiah when he was announcing their freedom from captivity and the destruction of Babylon.

"Depart, depart, go out from there!
Touch no unclean thing!
Come out from it and be pure,
you who carry the vessels of the LORD.
But you will not leave in haste
or go in flight;
for the LORD with go before you,
the God of Israel will be your rear guard." (Isaiah 52: 11-12)

Upon reading those words, I suddenly felt freedom like none I had ever known. Let me translate how the words sounded to me as the LORD spoke them into my heart.

"Tracy, why are you still hanging out in Babylon? Your food addiction has held you captive long enough. Don't you get it that Jesus broke those chains of captivity for you long ago? You're just sittin' there in Babylon of your own free will!
Now come on out of there and don't look back. Lock the door behind you when you leave because you don't need to be going back there. Oh, and don't bring any desserts or heaping plates of cheesy, greasy Mexican food with you, or any of those other tasty treats that trip you up the most. Just trust me to provide what you need. You're my girl, my vessel whom I have called to teach and preach my Good News, and it's time to let me have ALL of you.
Don't worry, you don't have to run. But you do have to get moving and start exercising again. I have a plan for your life and I need you to take care of that temple (your body) so that I can fulfill that plan. One step at a time, one day at a time. I will lead the way if you will only let me.
Make sure to follow closely because I know before you make it back to the Promised Land there will be temptations to return to Babylon. It may not have been the abundant life there that I desire for you, but I understand that it was what you knew and you had become comfortable with living the lesser life, sad as it is to say. So I will also be bringing up the rear in this journey, so that if you do grow weary and try to turn around I will steer you back in the right direction."

Wow! Finally, the answer. Years of battling the scales, the poor body image and resulting damage to my self-esteem, constantly comparing myself to my "skinny" friends, avoiding old friends who knew me in my much skinnier life back in the day because it was easier to avoid the embarrassment, years of tearful prayers and crying out to God to "fix" me; it had all come to this. In a firm but gentle way, God showed me my heart as a puzzle in his hands. For three years my so-called mantra has been Psalm 51:10, "create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." This day, he opened my eyes to the puzzle piece that I was still grasping tightly in my own hands. It was "my issue" that I had chosen to wallow in in my Babylon, and now he was telling me to "come out from it and be pure!"

So I have started with babysteps. Thankfully, the Holy Spirit had already led me to give up sweets for Lent. That is usually a struggle, but so far this time it's not, and I am convinced it's because I now truly believe that God HAS broken those chains and I have said goodbye to Babylon. I'm also making healthier food choices, cutting out the snacks, drinking lots more water and getting back into walking. The next step (soon) will be to meet with my doctor or a nutritionist who can help me come up with a plan to follow.

I am so ready, my friends, to walk with the Lord towards a more pure and holy life, the abundant life that He wants for ALL His children. Will you walk with me? I don't necessarily mean by starting on a diet or plan for healthier living, as I have chosen to do. Surely there must be lots of street corners in Babylon besides the one where I had taken up residence. Maybe yours is the one called money or the pursuit of material pleasures and wealth, or perhaps it's your pride which has led to damaged relationships, including your relationship with the Lord. Could it be Facebook or the internet, sexual addictions or pornography? The list could go on and on. The point is we all have some kind of baggage in Babylon. Are you ready to leave it behind and hightail it out of there? Send me a comment and let me know. Let's embark on the journey together!