The Land of What If

She carried it because she couldn’t find a place to lay it down. 

It was heavy. This burden of “If” that she carried.  She had acquired it on her journey at the fork in the road. 

Had she chosen the wrong path? 

No, she was sure this was the path that was lit by the Lamp for her feet, but it had led her through a land that was much rockier than she thought it would be.

  The travel was slow and in her weariness, she had encountered this place-The Land of What If.  She knew she shouldn’t linger there, but some had said there would be things there that would prepare her for the road ahead, and so it seemed a sensible place to explore.

But now she knew.

  The Land of What If had nothing for her to carry with her but fear. And now this fearful ‘If’ clung to her like a heavy yoke that made it much harder to travel the path ahead.  She struggled to rid herself of it.  She longed to just lay it down, but there was nowhere to place it.

  There were companions along the way, traveling the same path.  She was relieved; maybe they would come beside her and help her carry her burden of ‘If’.  But they scoffed at the heaviness that weighed on her.  They carried them too and their backs were bent from doing it so long, but they refused to acknowledge the weight of their ‘If’. They didn’t believe in them –“No Ifs, Ands, or Buts” they had said. “We will not speak of it and it will not be.” But her ‘If’ was real and although they may not admit it, so was theirs.  

  So she traveled on finding no comfort there.  It bothered her. No matter what she did, it was always there keeping her up at night, slowing her down in her journey, making the road seem more torturous and scary than before.

 She was ready to give up.

 She just couldn’t go any further. As she began to give into the weight ,she looked down for a place to lay. That’s when she saw them, His pierced feet clothed in dusty sandals – the same dust that covered her on this path. 

Had He been walking this path with her as well? 

She had not seen Him, even though He said He would always be there.  She had felt alone on this path and so she thought she was.  But there He was.

 “Keep going’ He said.

“ I cannot, my burden is to heavy and I am afraid.”

“ Do not fear, I am with you always”

 She explained to Him that her ‘If’ was real and heavy and it made her very afraid to go on.

“ I know the plans I have for you” He said.  “They are plans that will prosper you, they will give you a hope and a future” He said “ Lay your burdens at my feet, I care for you, and I will carry them for you.” 

 She dropped them right there at His feet and in a heap of exhaustion she fell to her knees. Her strength was gone.  He placed His hand on her and said “You can do this because I will strengthen you with My strength, which is perfected in your weakness.”

 He took her hand and guided her along the rocky places. 

She could still see the ‘If’. It was there but somehow it seemed smaller as He covered it in His hands.  It seemed less scary to know and recognize that it could not move anywhere that His hand didn’t allow it to and as she walked, covered in His strength, she laughed at her future, undaunted by the path ahead.

Psalms 119:105 (NLT) “ Your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path”.

Isaiah 41:10 (NLT) “ Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.”

Jeremiah 29:11 (NLT) ^”For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”

1 Peter 5:7 (NLT) “ Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.”

Proverbs 31:25 (NLT) “She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.” Pin It

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Dollar Store Advent Calendar

This project started out as one of those cute mini-muffin tin advents you see on Pintrest.  Unfortunately, after making all my cute little number tags, I pulled out my mini-muffin tin, only to discover that it has only a dozen muffin cups –not the twenty-five that makes using a mini-muffin tin so perfect.   
Bummer.   
After searching for three stores, I discovered that the $10 dollar price tag for a new pan was a little over my budget, since I will be making two – one for each of my girls.   
Big Bummer. 
So, I did what I always do when I need to find a cheapo solution.  I hit the dollar store, hoping against hope that they had one.   
Nothing…Notta…Zilch…Humungous Bummer.   

But then I found these….

I know what your thinking.  They are the cutest little containers ever and yes, those are M&Ms on the label.  So, feeling inspired and now craving chocolate, I quickly loaded the cart with three packages and headed to the candy aisle for a little “shopping snack”. 

This is when it got a little crazy… 

I needed something to attach these cute little containers to, you know to keep them all together and organized.  So while popping M&Ms in mouth, I may or may not have lined these little babies up on EVERY flat tray or pan in the store.  Let me tell you there are very few things that will fit 24 of these exactly.   

Trust me, I know, and I have earned “The Crazy Dollar Store Lady” award to prove it.  But there was one pan (15”x12” tin cookie sheet ) and, low and behold, it came in a set of 2, which worked great for me.  Yippee! 

Now, I had a plan.  All I had to do was find 24 (x2) items to fit into my little containers.   

So, since I already had the crazy lady award, I took out a container and proceeded to try out EVERY little item in the store to see if they fit.  After a few hours I checked out and headed home excited to put together my little project.   

  Then, I decided maybe someone else might benefit from my craziness and I could save them from stealing my “award” and spending hours at the dollar store by giving a little tutorial.   

So here it is….

Take out your cutie-patootie containers and hot glue your number labels to them.  My number labels are 2 1/2 inch squares made from scrapbook paper.

 Next, line them up in your pan.  You should be able to fit four across and six down leaving a little tiny space to peel the lid of once they are glued down.

Now, if you have little, curious, Peekers, like me, you may want to tuck some tissue paper around the edges so that they can’t see through the clear plastic on the sides.  I simply cut a two-inch strip which I folded in half long-ways. I tucked and scrunched down the sides, using a butter knife, and gluing in place to create a sort of ruffle effect.

 

As you can see, you will have a little space left at the bottom of the pan. I tucked a little more tissue paper there. That is where you will place the number 25 (the big one).  I made mine with the same scrapbook paper and placed it on a longer tag.

Now, squeal with delight, and relish in the fact that all those people who thought you had lost your noodle at the dollar store, DO NOT have one of these right now! Then, get ready to put on the finishing touches.
Grab some ribbon and cut about a 7-inch piece (don't measure, just act like you know what you're doing and cut it).  Then, hot glue that baby right on the back, smack in the middle like this...

Now turn it over and fill it with all those treats that you so carefully selected. Then hang it up and your done!!

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The Place Where I Layed Still

 I drive by it everyday. 

 

 The place at the end of the street where He so   

 sweetly spoke to me in the middle of it all.     

 It was summer, and the kids were free to play outside as long as they stayed on our small little street.  They had gotten off to an early start that morning and then Ella had come running in the door to say that Claire was hurt and she needed help.  Ed went out first.  I remember throwing some clothes on (I wasn’t even dressed yet), making a mental note of where I had unpacked the Band-Aids and then I started out the door and down the steps to check on her.  At the end of the street, I could see my Claire on the ground, laying still.  My walk became a run as I made my way passed the two houses to the end of the street.  It took forever and as I watched my baby lying there, all I could do was whisper “Jesus”.   A crowd of neighbors had starting gathering and as we approached, I knelt down on the pavement. She was very still, her brand new glasses lay crooked across her little face and her eyes were closed.  I reached down and placed my hand on her and said “Claire, Mommy and Daddy are here.” She opened her eyes, but she remained still, frozen in place, As I searched to try to understand all that had just happened, a lady began to explain.   

  She had seen it.  She didn’t know Claire- not like her father and I know her, but she had been watching her when she fell.

SHE had seen her riding a bike.

 I KNEW this “riding bikes thing” was new for her.  

SHE had seen her fall while trying to manage a turn on the bike.

 I KNEW she was trying a new bike (mine, in fact)-bigger than the one she had ridden before

SHE had seen her lying on the ground shocked at the fall. 

I KNOW my Claire is afraid of falling and she sometimes takes a moment to recover.

Concerned by her fall and slow recovery, the lady had informed her that she might have broken something and not to move.  I sat there unsure what to do as the situation became clear. 

Claire had fallen.

Someone who didn’t even know her—really know her - had seen her fall. 

They had said she was broken.

She believed them.

They had said she should not move.

So she stayed still.

In my heart, I knew she was not broken.  She was just bruised, but very afraid now.  I wanted to tell her to just get up and she would be okay.  I hesitated not wanting to appear like an unconcerned parent in front of all who stood around us. 

Then I watched as her Father reached down to her and said “Claire, where does it hurt?”

 It was her knees – they were clearly skinned up by the pavement –more than she had ever experienced, but not beyond what could be healed by a little cleaning up and ointment.

He reached down and gently sat her up, reassuring her that she was okay.

He dealt with those “who were concerned” which now included   

paramedics and He thanked them for their concern but let them know  

that He would take care of it.

Then He turned his attention to her. 

He carried her in His arms and gently, ever so gently, cleaned her   

wounds. 

He applied his oil and he bandaged them up.

He reassured her that she was NOT broken.

    That she could still ride the “big bike”.

    That He would help her with the turns,

    and if she fell again, 

    He would be there to help her up. 

She is smiling again now.   

She is riding too.

Unafraid and reassured that she will not hurt beyond what can be healed 

and that He will not let her lay there

                                          ...in that place

                                                       ...in that fear of being broken.

 "He is the healer of the brokenhearted. He is the one who bandages their wounds." 
                                                                                              Psalm 147:3 (God's Word)

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Cold Sweats, Prilosec, and Jesus...

I’ve been working on these decorations for our upcoming Women’s Conference…

 

There are things that I am able to do in ministry that come easy – they are things that I love to do because it’s part of my personality – I like to be creative, I like to make things look pretty, fix things up – those are all qualities that fit within the scope of my personality type.  It’s great to know your talents and use them for God but it’s even greater to be used of God beyond your own personality traits….

There are things that God has opened the door for me to do that I CANNOT DO.  They are things that are way beyond my comfort zone- things that reach beyond who I am as a person and the only way that I can do it is if He does it through me.  It’s a vulnerable place to be and one that I think the enemy keeps many Christians from entering because “That’s just not in my personality”.  

 The myth that God calls us to live within our own personality is just that –a myth, a lie from the enemy to keep us from understanding the full measure of what God can accomplish through us. 

When we became a Christian, we became a NEW person.

      "This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a 

        new life has begun!" II Cor. 5:17

God called us to be LIKE JESUS.
      "So all of us who have had that veil removed can see and reflect the glory of the Lord. And the    

       Lord--who is the Spirit--makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious 

       image." II Cor. 3:18

 He said we would do what HE did and more.  

       "I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even  

        greater works, because I am going to be with the Father."  John 14:12

      

To live like Jesus requires us to step out beyond who we are or who we ever thought we could be and trust Him to use us to accomplish His great work.  It’s not comfortable, it’s sometimes scary, and it’s definitely humbling, but the truth is that I have never experienced as much joy doing the things that I can do compared to the joy that comes when I do the things I know that I cannot do.   

 This is one of them….

Next week at this time I will be doing something that I CANNOT do.  I am a quiet, shy, private person by nature, but next week I will be speaking in front of 350 + women  along with four other speakers who are way more talented than me. I can't tell you how many times I have walked by this flyer posted in our church lobby or seen it posted on FB and broken out in a cold sweat.

 The first time I ever really spoke was in a women’s Sunday school class with about 40 ladies.  I was scared silly, but it was an experience I will never forget because I recognized that the Holy Spirit took over and did what I couldn’t do.  Ladies were touched and lives were changed that day.  It really had nothing to do with me and everything to do with Him – and I know that for sure, because I would have NEVER done it if I was just operating in the scope of my own personality and comfort zone.  I have come to have a strange kind of love for speaking. It still scares me to death every,,, single... time, but there is something about going beyond who you are and being a vessel for Him that is so very exciting and rewarding. 

What if I had said no teaching that day because I wasn’t comfortable doing it?   

Hmm… I don’t think I would be the same person now.  

 I learned a huge lesson that day:  I never say no to an opportunity to do something for God simply because I’m not capable of doing it on my own. 

This doesn’t mean that I don’t get nervous or scared sometimes (because that’s being human) and sometimes I live on Prilosec, and I pray A LOT, but life is so much more rewarding when we learn to live in His strength and not our own. 

That being said, I humbly request your prayers this week…. 

   

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Freedom and the Stench of the Familiar

  I can remember that feeling of the wind blowing through my hair and the sheer thrill of knowing that if I was willing to pedal hard enough, I could go anywhere I wanted to go-anywhere, that is, within the boundaries my parents set for me.  At the ripe age of nine, I barely remember doing anything but bike riding.  While it seems like exercise to older folks, a bike is pure freedom-on-wheels in the hands of a child.

  Recently, we have relocated to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. It was a big move for our family, but we knew the Lord was leading us to this new place. 

  Since the move, my girls have experienced a lot of new freedoms, especially bike riding.  In Florida, the parsonage was not located in an area with sidewalks or a safe place to ride. So other than circling the church parking lot, at times when I could watch them, they were never able to ride.  Here, we live on a dead end street with very little traffic and lots of sidewalks.

They are riding constantly.  The picture is always the same. Claire leading the pack, while Ella works hard to keep up, steering her bike with one hand, and holding her silky draped around her with the other. 
 Silky has been a part of Ella’s life since she joined our family.  Actually, Silky is Silky II since Silky I mysteriously disappeared in a party store.  It took weeks to get Silky II to smell just right, but after a few washes and some love, Silky II made the cut. As she has grown up, Silky has been seen less and less frequently, serving only as a comfort at night.  Since we’ve moved however, Silky has become a constant companion, wrapped around Ella’s neck like a shawl, going everywhere she goes.  At first, I thought she just needed time to adjust to her new surroundings while keeping the familiar wrapped close by, but now that we are approaching six weeks here, I am beginning to wonder if we will need to coordinate bridesmaid’s dresses with Silky’s pink hue when the time comes.

 I am a little worried. 

  There are several reasons why the constant presence of Silky is becoming and issue.  

First, what once was a comforting recognizable aroma now STINKS!  This girl has taken the smell factor to the extreme and carrying Silky to all the places it shouldn’t be has caused it to smell.. bad. 

Secondly, it’s a constant worry to make sure Silky doesn’t get lost or left behind somewhere when we are out.  It is seriously hard enough to grocery shop with one eye on two kids while trying to keep an eye on a silky as well.  It’s distracting! 

Lastly, it holds her back. 

 I watch perched from our front porch deck as the girls ride down the street.  Ella is still lagging behind.  She is pedaling as hard as she can. She desperately wants to embrace her new freedom, but she can only steer with one hand, while holding on to the familiar, even though the familiar stinks.

What once was used to comfort her now enslaves her.

And as I look down from my porch I cannot help but feel sad for her.

  She is my child, and I want her to experience the freedom that I have allowed her.  I want her to know the joy that comes from that freedom. I want her to let go of the familiar so she can ride free with both hands on the handlebars. 

And then, that still, small Voice asks the same of me.

 “My child, are YOU willing to let go of the familiar in order to experience a new freedom in Me?”

I have held onto the familiar until it STINKS.

I have been so afraid of losing the familiar that it has distracted me from doing what I am called to do.

I have let the familiar hold me back, even enslave me, and keep me from experiencing new freedoms that He has allowed for me.

^” IN [this] freedom Christ has made us free [and completely liberated us]; stand fast then, and do not be hampered and held ensnared and submit again to a yoke of slavery [which you have once put off].” Galatians 5:1 (AMP)

And so, I am grabbing the handlebars with both hands.  I am letting go of the familiar and riding straight into the unknown and it feels good to be free!

I'm linking up with Beholding Glory today on Faith Filled Friday. Pin It

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FEAR - It's for the Birds

I could not have been at a more relaxing, stress-relieving place.  We all have somewhere we go to let it all go and for me that place is the beach.  There is something about just sitting there soaking up the rays, ocean breezes hitting my face, and the sound of crashing waves that just helps me to breathe deeper as if I’ve been holding my breath and am now coming up for air for the first time in a long time. I had spent the afternoon playing with my girls, jumping waves in the ocean and building princess sand castles.  As my husband stepped in to keep a watchful eye on them, I laid back in my lounge chair to close my eyes and just relax for a few minutes.  It wasn’t long though before I felt one of my children come back over to me, most children feel the need to do that whenever they catch mom resting!  Trying to be patient as they brushed against my leg, I kept my eyes closed hoping they would get distracted again and go play. But as they sat down on my leg, I opened my eyes to attend to them.  However upon opening my eyes I realized my children were happily playing on the shore and what was now trying to rest on my leg was not my child but a pigeon! 

I had no idea that my rapidly approaching 40-year-old body could still do a high kick but I did it-

--and I have PLENTY of witnesses.

As I sat there feeling so very overexposed and trying to gain my composure back, I wondered why that bird chose me.   Of all the people and places on the beach it could have landed, why me?  For heaven’s sake, the people beside me where even eating Chick-fil-a –what bird doesn’t go for the food?

I have never really liked birds- In fact, I’m a little fearful of them.

Not in a debilitating way or anything- I would just prefer that they keep to their distance and I will keep mine.

I know some people who love birds and would have actually found this incident exciting, maybe even stayed real still, so they could take a picture and post it on their Facebook. 

So why do I feel the way I do about birds? 

Over the years, I’ve had many unhealthy encounters with them not on a Fabio level or anything, but still unhealthy nonetheless. I began to realize that my opinion of them has been formed by those incidents and not necessarily what is actually true about them…

Someone recently asked me what my fears were.  When I asked why, they replied that it was because when encountered with incidents that brought out those fears, I would react to them out of my fear and not necessarily see the truth in that situation and that would in turn affect those around me, including her, and she wanted to be aware of those things so she could understand my reactions. 

Her brutally honest question hit me right between the eyes - it’s true.

I shared with you my recent journey in the last post. Today I want to share something that has and still is changing my life completely.  It all has to do with what we fear and our perspective on those things we fear. Recently, I met with a friend of mine, who is also a Pastors wife, Deanna Shrodes. As I shared (okay, I blubbered) about some incidents I was trying to deal with.  She shared this with me, and I have asked her permission to share it with you. You can go here and read this post. it is one of a great series on her blog.  To say this truth has rocked my world would be an understatement and I cannot thank her enough for taking the time to share it with me. 

Constantly living in and reacting to our fears can be exhausting. If you are like me and find yourself feeling spiritually tired, maybe you could take some time to consider what you’re afraid of and replace those lies with the truth of God’s Word.  The enemy knows what you fear.  If we form the wrong ideas about those things from the start – he has an open door to use whenever he needs to bring you down and distract you from being who God called you to be.  
  We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ.  2 Corinthians 10:5 (MSG)

No, I don’t think it was a mistake that a pigeon passed up Chick-fil-a to sit on my leg instead, but next time I will not react the same way. You may even see the picture on my Facebook page!

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A Warning to the Weary

 Today I am sitting on my back porch writing.  It’s been awhile, but now that I’m here, I just don’t want to leave.  I realize how badly I have needed this – just to sit and reflect for a little while –no bible studying (even though that’s important), no ministry stuff (even though that good), not even much praying going on, other than a few thoughts that come to mind (even though that vital).  I’ve just been sitting here and allowing God to reassure me that He’s here too - with me. 

  We are in a very busy season of life right now, especially in our ministry and at the same time, in our personal life, my husband has been battling a very serious illness.  I will be the first to admit I haven’t been juggling well.  

 I am so very tired.  

 It’s a tired that goes beyond needing sleep, or more caffeine or even a few days off.  I’ve tried all of the above. It is beyond the physical- my spirit is tired. 

  

 Ever been there?

If you not shouting an Amen right now, let me give you a few warning signs that seem to creep up from nowhere when you are spiritually tired:

1. You feel overwhelmed with the responsibilities of life
2. You find yourself angry with other people for not “working” as much as you are.
3. You find yourself battling feelings of depression/anxiety whenever you are not concentrating on your work/ministry.
4. You feel taken advantage of by those you are serving/working for.
5. You feel alone and unloved, even when surround by people who love you.

Scary stuff when you see it in writing, huh?

 These are just a few – I’m sure there are more. I once read of weary Pastor who said he knew he was in trouble when he found himself reading the obituaries and envying the people he was reading about.

 Spiritual weariness is dangerous ground – it’s a warning, my friend.  It’s time to stop for a moment and consider what your spirit is missing, choked out by the circumstances of life.

  I don’t know exactly where this post is headed-to be honest- I never do, but I think I feel a series coming on here.  Please don’t take this as professional advice – I am just a pastor’s wife sharing my experiences and what I’ve learned from them.  And I am praying that if you are walking where I am, you will find encouragement here as we walk together.  We need each other, especially when we feel like that last thing we want to do is put any effort into another relationship.  You are not alone and God never meant for you to walk this journey alone.  Recently, God has placed beautiful ladies in my path that could relate exactly to my experiences, some of them Pastors wives who are walking or have walked in the same places I seem to find myself walking.  They have not condemned me for honestly sharing my feelings – that were not exactly spiritual.  They offered me encouragement, support, and understanding. It’s nice to be assured that you’re not crazy sometimes, even while you are having a very public emotional breakdown in the middle of Panera Bread Co! (You know who you are and I love you!!)

  So, over the next few posts, I will share what God’s been showing me through this place, the good, the not so good, and the just plain ugly of it too. If you find yourself on this same path, I would love for you to join me…feel free to share your comments. Let’s walk this journey together.     

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Forgiveness

  I felt a cold sweat sweep over me as she walked through the doors of the church.  How long had it been – five, maybe six years?  Yet, still at the very sight of her, the sting of her offense radiated through me.  Why was she here? Had she come to gloat and bring back all the hurt she had once been a part of.  All through service, I was on edge, pleading with God to just let me get though it, so I could go home and lick my old wounds that had now been reopened.  We had almost made it out the door when she stopped and asked to speak with us. I crumbled inside, while trying to keep an open composure as we sat down together. 

Then she began to cry.

  As the tears ran down her face, she confessed all that we knew she had done and some things that we weren’t even aware of.  She asked us to forgive her. 

My heart sank.

  I thought that I had, but judging from my attitude at her presence, it was apparent that I had not.  It was very easy to bury the hurtful memories away and move on. I told myself that moving on meant that I had forgiven.  However, what I felt at the moment she entered the room was anything but forgiveness.

Forgiveness is important because Jesus taught that we would not be forgiven unless we forgive.  I know I should.  I want to. But HOW do we forgive?  How do you tread though the ocean of hurt you are drowning in and make your way to the shore of forgiveness?

Matthew 18:21-22 (KJV)
²¹ Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?
²² Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.

Forgiveness is a verb, not an emotion.  We choose to forgive.  Everyday we must choose to walk in forgiveness eventually, feelings will follow, but first it must be a choice.  When asked how many times we are to forgive, Jesus said we are to choose to forgive 70x7.  He knew that forgiveness would take time. That it would be a daily process, so he encouraged us not to give up but to keep choosing daily to walk in forgiveness. How many times will it take until your feelings follow –who knows?  But I bet you won’t get to 490 days.

In Matthew 5:44 there are three instructions given that help you know you are walking in forgiveness. 

Matthew 5:44 (KJV)
⁴⁴ But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;

  Love your enemies-

  Seems like an impossible thing to do.  How do you feel love for someone that hurts you and wouldn’t loving them be like saying whatever they did was not wrong?  The love spoken of here is not the same kind of love that comes naturally.  It’s not the same love you feel for your children or someone who loves you back.  Without getting too deep, it is simply a benevolent love - a love that is decidedly given.  It is a love that is given by which we wish well for a person, but cannot approve of their conduct.  It is a love that causes us to have compassion for their weaknesses.  It is love that causes us to speak kindly of them and to them and to return good for evil as Romans 2:17 reminds us to do.

 Bless them that curse you –

  The word bless here means “to speak well of” or “speak well to” -Vine’s Expository Dictionary.  We speak only of those things that we can commend in them.  If there’s nothing that we can commend, then we speak nothing about them at all.

Pray for them that despitefully use you –

  Translated this means those that injure you, unjustly accuse you, pursue or follow after you and oppress.  Hmm, how and what do you pray for someone like that?  I can think of some prayers that I would like to pray but they wouldn’t necessarily fall into line with loving and blessing!  If I’m honest,  I admit that I have found myself pleading with God to bring justice and then pleading with God to have mercy on those that I know have been disobedient because I know that God is just. I am conflicted.  Why? Because I am concerned with what doesn’t concern me.  I must let go and leave room for God to do what He will do.  I must do what He wants me to do.  Pray for them with a heart that understands that God wants to use them (what they have done) to do something new in me.   As I allow these things to mold me into what He wants me to be, I can accept all that has been and I can pray this prayer:

Bless my enemies, O Lord. Even I bless them and do not curse them.
Enemies have driven me into your embrace more than friends have.
Enemies have loosed me from earth more than friends have…
Enemies have made me a hunted animal, finding safer shelter than an unhunted animal does.

I found safest sanctuary in You…may too my enemies-made-grace.
I found greatest grace in You… may my enemies-made-grace find Your generous grace alive and radical in me.
I found fullest forgiveness in You… may my enemies-made-grace find faith and freedom in You and Your forgiveness working surprising ways in me.

The longer I walk with you, Lord, I find I have no enemies: only your gift of chisels etching me deep.
Bless my enemies, O Lord. Even I bless them and do not curse them.

(This prayer is taken from http://www.incourage.me/2011/05/when-youve-been-wounded-cheated-disappointed-heartbroken.html  an awesome devotional website for women) Pin It

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His Grace, My Weakness, and a Whole Lot of Sand

I watch as he swaggers over and in a brawny voice says, “Need some help diggin’ that hole?”

I had escaped to the beach for a few precious hours with my girls.  My big girl was completely enthralled in digging a large hole and instructing her little sister to fill it with water. 

  I could have sworn he was wearing chaps and a Stetson, but after blinking my eyes a few times, I realize it is just a pair of Cars swim trunks and a whole lot of sand.

As he approaches, amazingly, my usually bashful little girl looks up at him, grins, and scoots over for him to start digging.  The 'damsel in distress' act continues as he scoots in showing off his digging skills.  At some point, he decides to take his macho display to the next level by punching the barrier they have created around the hole to expose the weak places.  For a moment, my girls stop and hold their breath.  Unfortunately for him, the barriers holds strong, he comes down a few notches and resorts back to digging.

 This goes on for a while and whenever an awkward silence falls, little sister is there to coach them through it with all the charm of Chuck Woolery (the host of Love Connection, for those of you who were babies in the ‘80’s) with comments like:

“Her name is Claire and she enjoys reading, writing in her journal, and playing with Lego Friends. Now, how ‘bout you tell us your name?”

They move to the water and as he swims beyond the water- level boundary that I have set for them. I am pleasantly surprised that they hold back and stay within the no-deeper-than-you-belly button limit. As they watch him swim away, my big girl runs back up to me on the beach and exclaims “ Mom, I think he likes me, like L-O-V-E!”.  She then runs back to join him, as he makes his way back within their boundaries.

 Eventually, “Chuck” makes her way back to the shore, satisfied that she has made an adequate ‘love connection’ and wistfully sighs, saying “Look at those two - so happy together.  They’ll probably get married”.  At this, I am finally able to get my two cents in and deliver a nice, gentle, but healthy dose of reality. 

And then I am struck by my own dose of reality, only, not so gently.

This is a glimpse into my future and the future is not so far away.  My girls are growing up.  The time that I have left to really impact them and fill them with the Word is growing shorter day by day.

 

  I am suddenly glad I wore my super large, incognito sunglasses, as they fill with tears.  

  It is in these times that I feel the effects of my weaknesses as a parent. I question whether I am doing enough to raise them to be godly women.  I cringe as I remember the times I have failed them and missed opportunities to teach them. While it has always been my deepest desire to “train up my children”, the reality is that balancing family life and ministry is hard. It is a constant juggling act.

  Though I try to smile on the outside, inwardly, I cringe when I hear someone say how great it is that I can be a Pastor’s wife and my schedule allows me to be so available to my children.  Ministry life is a 24/7 job (lifestyle). And while I consider it an honor and know that it is what I am called to do, the truth is that the sacrifices that this life requires of my children and our family have been great.  Sometimes, the cost has overwhelmed me with guilt.

   At those times, He reminds me that I must trust in His GRACE.  I must trust in His grace to cover my weakness as a parent. I must trust in His grace to cover all of those times when the responsibilities of ministry have left me unavailable to my children. I must trust in His grace when, despite my efforts to shield them, they have been exposed to the “ugliness” that sometimes happens in church, that no child should ever have to know about or be affected by.

His GRACE is sufficient.

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

The Greek word for sufficient used here is ar-keh'-o.

According to Strong's Greek & Hebrew Dictionary, it means to be enough. But it is also akin to the word ah'ee-ro which refers to raising a barrier.

His grace is enough to raise a barrier around my weak areas. 

Wherever I fall short, His grace come in and strengthens those places in order to keep them strong and protected.

How AMAZING is that GRACE?!! 

  We all have weaknesses. We can’t do it all.  The good news is the barrier of His grace covers us. We can rest assured that when the enemy swaggers in to show off his punching skills and expose your weakness, His grace has made a barrier strong enough to withstand whatever punch he may throw.  So take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and rest in His GRACE. Pin It

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Poo in the Ice Cream Truck

If we are friends on Facebook, you may have already read this, but I decided to post it here anyway. For those of you who haven't read it there ( I would love to be friends on Facebook), I will warn you that it contains a "potty word" that you might find repulsive-and I will apologize in advance for that. There is a reason for using it, and since I became a mom, I find I am less sensitive to those kind of words. They are just a necessary part of our everyday language around here!

 

We try to regularly meet with our children’s pastor to go over upcoming calendar events.  Since they live on the other side of town, and we have four kids between us, we decided to meet at the food court at a local mall, and grab some Chic-fil-a.   That way the kids could play in the play area while we had our meeting. 

  Upon arrival, our children’s pastors wife, knowing I can be a little bit of a germaphobe, said “Are you alright with them playing here –does it bother you?” Trying to overcome these tendencies, I tried to blow it off and calmly replied “Na, it doesn’t bother me –I mean they’ve already been at school all day- they can’t get much dirtier than that, right?”  We ate our dinner and quickly got on with our meeting while the kids played.  I was pretty impressed with myself, enjoying the newfound freedom of releasing my germ fears and not giving thought to the germ fest my kids were happily participating in. 

  We were chatting away when all of the sudden out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ella running towards me, Claire spurring her on with tattle-tale eyes, (You know those eyes -they take on that look when they have something really legitimate to tattle about).  Ella arrived first, with a strained, dumbfounded look, but before she could say anything Claire caught up and blurted out “Ella got her new shirt dirty”. Ella, standing between her father and I, and knowing the cat was out of the bag, lifted her arm to reveal a large brown spot on the arm of her sleeve. 

 Grabbing her wrist to keep her arm extended, so as to not come in contact with anyone or anything, I exclaimed, “What is it?” (using my heebie-jeebie voice).

To which her father replied “I don’t know, smell it!”

“I cannot smell it, you smell it!” I challenged, and being the gentleman that he is, he bravel,y however carefully, and slowly leaned in to take a whiff while we watched, the world halting to a stop around us, to wait for the results.  Although it seemed this took place in slow motion, it was only a matter of milliseconds before the brown spot revealed its truly offensive nature and my husband loudly exclaimed “Ohh! It’s POO!!”  And just in case all those around didn’t have their meals interrupted by hearing that exclamation, I quite loudly replied “ It’s POO! It’s POO! What do we do? What do we do?!”

  Sounding very much like a Dr. Seuss book reading now, I began instinctively ripping the offensive smelling shirt off, and then realized that I had probably scarred poor Ella for life as she was now standing, shocked and shirtless, in the middle of the food court.

  Our children’s pastor’s wife quickly stepped in with her son’s spare sweatshirt and then darted off to inspect our other kids for any signs of poo. Meanwhile, I set off on a course to find the source of the poo. Hearing Claire say she was in the ice cream truck, I headed in the direction of the coin-operated vehicles. 

  At that very moment, I turned to see a father sitting his daughter in the ice cream truck. Placing his quarter in, he motioned to Ella to hop aboard and ride along.  Ella, apparently undaunted by the poo at the thought of getting a free ride, quickly made her way on to the ice cream truck at which point I hear myself yell “NO ELLA!!” 

  The man gesturing to me said, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I don’t mind if she rides along.”

 I quickly replied “No you don’t understand, there’s poo (whispering now like it’s a bad word) in the ice cream truck.” He looked at me puzzled, his brain not quite catching up with my words, and so I reiterated gesturing now “poo in the ice cream truck” and then for emphasis a little louder I repeated “poo!” At this, his brain quickly kicked in, his body responding by swiping his quarter and daughter in one scoop, thanking me profusely, as if I had just saved him from making the biggest mistake he had ever made in all his three to four years of fatherhood.  One crisis averted, I stood there trying to think what to do next when I heard our children’s pastors wife say, “Shouldn’t we find someone to clean it?”  Yes! Yes, that would resolve this once and for all.

  I turned to find a unsuspecting cleaning lady wiping a table nearby.  Approaching her, I said “Can you help me out? There is poo(whispering the offensive word once again) in the ice cream truck.”  Apparently not having lived in this country long and being only vaguely familiar with the English language, it appeared that the cleaning lady was not understanding me and so once again I reiterated “Poo in the ice cream truck” “ Ahh, ice cream!” she replied excitedly.  “No, POO” I said. 

  Wishing I had paid a little more attention in Spanish class; I motioned for to follow me so that I could point out the evidence myself.  That was when I realized that “poo” is not a universal term and I had failed in my attempts to make her understand the offensive nature of this mess.  I watched, as she moved her face closer and closer to inspect the evidence and that is when my gag reflex kicked in.  I realized that to stay and see this job through any further would only cause a larger mess and I resolved to leave it in her capable hands. I walked away inhaling deeply, once at a reasonable distance, and I began to reflect on these events.

  As a playground patron, there are several ways to handle, a “poo sighting”: 

Some will simply upon discovery, choose to ignore the poo.  They like the ice cream truck and like, Ella, why should a little poo stop them from enjoying a free ride.  As long as the poo doesn’t affect them, who cares? 

  Some upon discovering the poo, would choose to sit back and watch the poo be discovered by others.  They might even find this quite entertaining to see the reactions of others as they realize they have come in contact with the offensive mess. What’s the harm in that, as long as they are not involved them-selves? It could even be quite entertaining!  

 Still there are others, like myself, that believe we still have a community responsibility to expose poo when found, even though sometimes loudly and to the chagrin of those enjoying a meal around us, we a have a no tolerance policy when it comes to poo and we will go to whatever length necessary to prevent others from being soiled by it and alerting those in charge so that it can be handled appropriately. 

 Hmmm. Could there be a heavenly meaning to this crazy experience? I think so, (I sure hope so –I’d hate to think I lived through this one for nothing!)  

  How do we as Christians handle our own encounters with "poo"?  

Are we willing to take a stand for for what is right no matter what the cost?  

Are we willing to stick our neck out and do what it takes to expose it even if it means "missing out on a free ride in the ice cream truck" in order to prevent others from being affected by the it?  

If we choose to deal with it, it won't be pleasant and it usually requires some persistence to get the job done, but I believe it's a responsibility we must take. Pin It

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The Author

I’ve been on vacation this week and I totally intended to spend most of it sleeping. 

But something happened…

I started reading The Hunger Games.

Now instead of sleeping, I have spent my vacation reading well into the wee hours of the morning completely engrossed in the lives of these fictional characters. 

By the first chapter, I knew I was hooked. It only took a day and a half to make it through the whole book. We were traveling by car, so I thought I would just finish it, and then have the rest of my vacation to rest.  The problem is that reading this book is like eating potato chips – you can’t just eat one.  And the author gladly obliges by providing, not one, but two additional books in this series. Just to make sure you pick up the next book, she ends the previous one with a nice cliffhanger that leaves you wondering what will happen next, frantically searching Amazon.com for the next book and counting the seconds it takes to download it on your Kindle.  Oh, Suzanne Collins you are good – you are also responsible for the bags under my eyes –but you are good!

  Every good author knows how to use this human curiosity to keep his/her reader engaged.  By nature we are all somewhat curious, but our level of curiosity, can differ individually.  Mine is off the charts. I need to know how the story ends.  I need to know what happens next, and when I don’t know what happens next, it drives me crazy. I know I can’t blame it all on human nature, I may or may not have a slight control issue here but I can’t rest until I know.  It’s been an issue that God and I have been working on for a long time- apparently I am a slow learner.  You see, we have a deal worked out where I let go and He takes care of what happens next – I don’t have to know, I just have to trust that He knows and He is handling it. Then He lets me know when it’s the right time for me to know.  It’s a pretty good deal – the best one out there.  Looking back it’s always worked out to my benefit. But sometimes I forget.  I get worried, frustrated, and afraid because I don’t know what’s going to happen next and then I remember that He does.  How do I really know that He does?  Because He is the Author and He is writing my story.  I am just the reader, reading by faith, as He writes on the pages of my life.

Hebrews 12:2

"Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God." Pin It

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Seasons Change

Chick-fil-A at 12 Noon.  I sit quietly eating my waffle fries.  I am on the quiet side of the restaurant. You know, the side of the restaurant where all the working lunch breakers hover to avoid the greasy-fingered toddlers darting back and forth between the glass enclosed cage playground and the table where their mother resides happy to get one moment of respite. I watch one such mother as she attempts to finish a meal with her two little toddlers. While trying to stay engaged and patient, the sheer exhaustion of keeping up with two little ones day after day resonates on her face and I remember that feeling. I also remember sitting on her side, clad in my sweats, hopefully free of spit-up or other baby body fluids, and looking at the quiet side filled with women who were actually able to shave that morning and coordinate their jewelry to go with their clothing.  Some days, it seemed as if I would never get to eat on the quiet side.

And now…… here I sit….and surprisingly….. I am filled with envy. 

I miss the noisy side.  

I’m entering a new season in life and a lot of changes are taking place.

-         My baby went to Kindergarten and that changed my daily routine.

-         My big girl discovered that she is within a few sizes of wearing my 

          shoe size and that means I will never own a pair of my own shoes 

          again (until she outgrows me).

-         I turn 40 this year and I won’t even go into details about the 

          physical changes that brings! 

At the same time, this year has already brought new friends, new ministry opportunities, and new goals to pursue.

 

 In the book, Same Kind of Different as Me, one of the characters, Denver, makes a statement that “nothin ever really ends that something new don’t begin”. Every new season signifies the end of something else.  Change is tough sometimes.  As women, we face many new seasons in life, but oftentimes adjusting to a new season is difficult because it always means that something has ended, changed, or died in order to bring us to that place and we miss those things.

-         I miss having my babies at home with me.

-         I am going to miss my shoes.

-         I miss my younger body that I used to think was fat and now kill 

          myself at the gym to try to be that “fat” again!

It’s easy to get caught up in what was then and miss out on what is now.  I don’t want to do that anymore.  I want to embrace new seasons of my life (even the flabby ones!) and live out the purpose God has for each one to the fullest.

  Mary, the mother of Jesus, is one of the few women in the Bible, we actually  

  get to watch throughout many seasons of life.

 

-We sense her timid wonder as she as she receives news that she is 

honored and  

highly favored and she humbly steps forward.

-We bear her pains as she bravely gives birth to the Savior in the least 

likely of settings.

-We sense her urgency as she flees to Egypt, away from everything she has known, in order to protect the child entrusted to her.

-We can relate to the worry at the loss of her child, as she searches for days only to find Him in the temple and she steps aside reminded that He is called to a

higher purpose.

-We wonder as she witnesses her Son perform his first miracle in order to provide for her need. 

-We step back with her as her Son’s ministry grows and she becomes a follower of Christ.

-Our heart breaks with hers as she watches the Son she bore; bear her sins and the sins of the world on the cross.

-And we marvel at the completeness she must feel, as her life comes full circle and the woman who first witnessed the birth of the Savior now witnesses the birth of His church.

And through every season, we see that Mary remained “His faithful servant”.

She humbled herself and was willing to gracefully step forward, step aside, and step back – whatever was needed to fulfill her purpose in each season of her life.

 

 I want to walk in that grace and humbly accept each new season with a servant’s heart, ready to faithfully walk out His purpose.  It is easier said than done! Mary leaves us with a great example-still I wonder if SHE would gracefully give up HER shoes!

 

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