The Lost Post

Photo by Nicole Honeywill on Unsplash

Last Saturday morning I thought I had the perfect window to write a post for this blog.

I had actually started it a couple of days before, and knew this topic would be relatable.

I sat down at my desk in my kitchen and began to type. The ideas seemed to be flowing and I was easily able to track down the quotes and scriptures I wanted to use. Soon, I realized that it was taking longer than I had anticipated - a lot longer...

It didn't take long, however, to feel my patience wavering with the seemingly endless string of innocent distractions and interruptions. A certain 5 year old kept wanting me to see the progress she was making in her attempt to clean her own room. Another child, this one 10, kept me informed on her plans to play next door with her BFF. Then occasionally the teen would seem to aimlessly wander into my space with a question or two that she, if she were honest with herself, already knew the answer to.

Finally, as I was trying to reread and edit the piece before hitting "post," I heard whistling.  Growing up, I can remember my dad walking around the house whistling all the time, but as I married woman I can't remember the last time I heard my husband whistle. Without thinking I found myself asking him, "Why are you whistling?!"

He shrugged his shoulders and responded, "Because I can?" I know and fully trust that he was not in any way trying to sabotage my writing. He is very, very supportive of this space - but the whistling was the proverbial straw that broke this camel's back.

In an act of desperation to finish, I picked up my laptop and retreated to my bedroom. As I closed my door, I reprimanded myself for not going to Starbucks or Panera or anywhere to write. I finished proofing the product of my last couple plus hours and hit "preview" to see what you would see on the blog. An error message appeared. As I tried to figure out what was happening, the same error message appeared a couple more times. Fearing what would be the inevitable, I hit "save." I had never lost a paper or a report or a post before . . .

There is a first for everything . . .

In the week that has passed, I have wrestled with losing my work, my thoughts, my time and my effort. I have nothing to show for it and I honestly mourned a little over it.

Maybe God didn't want me to post it? Maybe Satan didn't want me to post it? Maybe I should rewrite it? Maybe I shouldn't?

Maybe I will - one day, but today isn't that day.

As I have prayed over the whole debacle, I have realized that my lost blog post has brought to the forefront an ongoing, reoccurring struggle of mine. It's more than just being able to "sabbath," to set aside time to intentionally rest, reflect and recharge in the Spirit, in the body and in the mind - but I have a definite need and desire to be productive, to leave a mark, to have something to show for my time.

During the school year - which because of my job, is also my "work year," I procrastinate projects to the summer months. This May I actually wrote out a list of all these things I wanted to do with my summer - clean out the basement, clean out the garage, paint my bedroom, paint the playroom, re-pot some houseplants, have lunch dates with friends, read fiction books, spend quality time with my children.

With the end of June and the beginning of July descending upon us, I am very aware of quickly my summer is slipping away. There are SO many things I am wanting to accomplish and I am growing more aware that some things just won't get done. Last week when the blog didn't get posted I felt that I lost more than my words. The loss of an entire morning was seriously depressing.

The Holy Spirit has gently pointed out that I have a pronoun problem.

I never wanted this blog to be about me - but about Him. Maybe my motivations were off as I wrote that lost post. The heaviness surrounding its loss revealed many feelings of ownership and pride.

My prayer for this summer is that it would be a season where I had the time and could intentionally seek Him. After all, that has been a theme for in my Sunday school class for teens over the last 6 weeks.

But if I am giving Him my summer, then why is the stubborn wallpaper border I am removing from my bedroom walls so frustrating? It is taking so long, I have not opened the first can of paint yet! Again, my feelings and reactions reveal something about my heart. Not that I shouldn't try to paint my bedroom, but my attitude about the work has left me questioning: Have I really given my time and attention purposefully back to Him? Am I letting Him guide my steps and order my plans?

"Me."
"Myself."
"My."
"I."

He has used the lost post to show me that He IS answering my prayer for this summer.

I truly want it to be that I would seek Him first and trust that He would add all the things second.

Yet, when my post was lost, I couldn't just accept it and move on. I complained and felt crummy. I let my feelings cascade into a place of failure - because I had "wasted" my time and my energy. . . .

Maybe I was only supposed to process those feelings and write those words for myself. I couldn't look at it that way at the time. But with time, comes perspective...

Maybe the post was lost so I would re-examine the why I am doing the things I am doing this summer, so I can re-prioritize my to-do list, so I can accept that, like my house, my heart is still and will continue to be, a work in progress too.

Each day this summer is a gift. My girls will never be these ages again. August will all-too-quickly arrive and the busy routine will return. My prayer is that I will hold MY plans loosely so I can experience the blessings HE is gracing me with today.

I can now definitely and definitively say that I see His grace in the lost post.

Sanctification and NKOTB

Last night was a blast. Honestly, it was the most fun I have had in a long time and it came at the perfect time. May is crazy, busy with so much to do and to keep up with. The break was needed - dinner with a good friend, the drive to Nashville and a concert full of memories -old ones and new ones meshing together to make it a night we would not soon forget.

Appropriately named "The Mixed Tape Tour" filled Bridgestone Arena with thousands of my peers. We came in droves from all over the mid-state to relive our tweens and teens with the best boy band ever - New Kids on the Block and their guests - Tiffany, Debbie Gibson, Salt n Peppa, and Naughty by Nature.

They gave a great show with high energy and loud acoustics. The start time was about the same time most of the crowd would usually be winding down after we've put our kids to bed and tidied up the dinner dishes.  Personally, I head to the shower about that time to begin to unwind- but last night we were just getting started. Honestly,  I was so into the music and the show, I didn't find myself starting to yawn until my friend and I emerged from the arena into the cool, spring night, air.

On the way back to Clarksville, we shared our impressions of the evening and kept telling the other that it had been "so very fun." Honestly we were at exit 40 on 24 before the ringing in our ears started to subside and were no longer having to shout at the other to be heard. The process it took our ears to adjust was just the first of several reminders that we aren't as young as we like to think we are. As the miles slipped by, we talked about how some of the stars had aged REALLY well and some of the others - not so much!

From our seats we could watch the "Boys," now most definitely men - all in their mid to late 40s, dance and sing looking very much like they did when we first saw them in tour over 30 years ago. Their dance moves were spot on, resembling a cardio workout that would overwhelm the both of us.

BUT, when the camera would zoom in for a close up shot, it was clear that they weren't the same guys I first saw in concert at Riverfront Stadium in Cincinnati. The Reds no longer play in that stadium because it no longer exists and hasn't for many, many baseball seasons.

Guys do age more gracefully, and while I would love to boast of Debbie's curves, she and Tiffany both seemed to dress the part of the teen idols they had been 30 years ago. Maybe that was intentional? Not dressing "their age" to try to allow all of us in the audience to time travel at least in our minds to when we were all wearing those hem lines and hairstyles?

Songs and lyrics that I had not thought of or heard in years, maybe decades, flooded back to the tip of my tongue when the first few notes blasted into the arena. Suddenly all the strangers around me were like friends as we were united by the music of our youth.

The tunes weren't just those of the featured bands. Other music from the same time frame was played and the thousands in attendance sang in one accord. Even if the musical genre was different from the boy band sound, we all still knew the words and tunes. The evening was truly like singing along with a favorite mixtape from our middle school years.

Even one of the singers, Donnie Wahlburg to be exact, questioned aloud into the mic, "How do you follow that?!" when the entire audience had sung in unison and in tune one of the songs of another band. Honestly, it reminded me of a worship experience when the leader bows away from the microphone and the congregation continues to sing the chorus without his voice in the forefront.

There were other echos of spiritual things - to see that many people gathered behind and unified in song gave me glimpses of heaven, what it will be like to worship the only One truly worthy of worship. The fact we are creatures created to worship could not have been disputed in how the crowd erupted when "The Boys in the Band" took the stage.

Yet, for me, there was something a little more personal to take away from the night's experiences. I was reminded that I was no longer 13 or 14 and I am okay with that. I may have a cardiologist and an orthopedist among my growing list of health providers that end in "-ist." But all I need to do is look in the mirror to know that I am not physically the same.

I would like to think that I have aged pretty well on the outside, but I also know and thank God that I have aged on the inside too. A lot has happened to and around me in the last 30 years that God has actively used to shape and mold me. His Word tells me that He will finish the work He began in me and, because of that promise, I trust that I look a lot more like Jesus now than I did way back then.

Some of the lyrics we sang last night were a little more racy than I remember. Maybe then I was just naive and didn't really know, or want to know, what I was singing. However, now, that ignorance is gone and I can't deny that I completely know what all the lyrics are insinuating - or outright saying. I found a "mom voice" asking inside my head, "How would you feel if your daughter was singing this song around the house?" At the very least, I know for sure she and I would have a long conversation about a thing or two.

It's good to look back. It's good to see how far we've come. It's good to remember good times. It is good to reflect on God's good grace, how He has provided and been faithful.

Last night was good for all of those reasons too.

Does anyone know when the tour is coming back to Nashville? As my childhood fave, Joey McIntyre, pointed out, Mick Jagger is still performing in his 70s so we should still have another 30 or so years to hear "The Right Stuff." I guess we will just have to take it "Step by Step" and be "Hanging Tough" while we wait. My friend and I are already committed to each other to go next time!

Unexpected Grace

Here is my "Unexpected Grace." 

Normally, like 9.5 times out of 10, I enter and exit our house through the garage. In all our comings and goings, it feels like I do that at least 20 times a day. So it is not unusual for me to go a few days without actually taking the few steps off our small porch and down the brick pathway to the driveway.

It is usual for me however, to see Wally off out the front door and to swing the front door open to allow sunlight to fill the entry through the closed storm door. This afternoon, as I did so, I noticed something on the front walk right in front of the steps.

Small and white and thin, I had to take a closer look.

In my amazement I realized it was a petunia. Somehow, someway, the small but sturdy flower had grown up between the bricks.

I had not planted it there. I have not yet bought my petunias from Lowe's. Every spring, around Mother's Day, I purchase the small plants already blooming to fill my porch pots and put a few around the geraniums that I buy too. I want to have the green thumb and the patience to plant my flowers from seeds, but I can't seem to control those little boogers very well, so I opt to exert my control over my flowers where and how I can.

 But . . . this little guy seemed to come out of nowhere.

I called for my oldest daughter to come see. She obeyed, but failed to understand what I was so excited about. When Wally came home, he walked right passed it, probably narrowly missing it with his man feet, and humored me when I drug him back outside to show him the unlikely bloom. My middle daughter noticed it right away and seemed to connect with my awe from where the tiny flower had originated, but didn't really appreciate how this little annual was acting all perennial.

I shared with my good friend Ms. Maxine about this little flower when she called with a work related question. I told her I couldn't figure out where the petunia had come from and how it had managed to thrive in such an unlikely place. Without hesitation, she said, "Well, by God's grace - that's how."

Instantly, I knew she was right. As I pondered the grace of God that would grow an unexpected flower in an unexpected place, I realized that in a way, His grace was extending far beyond growing a plant to create a little excitement in my Monday. He was revealing so much more to me.

In both my home and work lives, May is a crazy, busy month, rivaling December with all its responsibilities and obligations. Recitals, award ceremonies, field days, a birthday, staff evaluations, parent involved programs, teacher appreciation gifts . . . There is a lot going on.

It is easy to become quickly overwhelmed and extremely weary less than a full week into the month. When do I have time to connect with God? How can I fill my cup with Him - especially when I know that I need Him the most?

That little flower today was like God showing me that He is in the middle of all the crazy. He can be found. In the simplicity of a flower, if I open my eyes to appreciate that He has not left me but more than that - He has deliberately shown me that if I have eyes to see and a spirit to appreciate - He is still revealing Himself to me. He is more than meeting my needs. He is answering my prayers and is continually revealing Himself to me.

His Word tells me that I will find Him when I seek Him. He is faithful to allow me to find Him. Wasn't this the lesson I had tried to teach the teens in Sunday morning Bible study only yesterday? Today, I found Him in a petunia growing between the bricks of my front walk.

I want to contemplate this small, amazing grace and appreciate what God has done.

I want my eyes to see where He is working, and I don't want to be too busy that I miss it or worse yet step on it in my ignorance.

I want to value these moments of grace, but I know that has to start with recognizing them as they come.

I may not be in control. I may not know how everything is going to come together. But, God is in control and He knows how to develop beauty around and in me that I cannot begin to fathom.

God, these next few weeks are insanely busy. I know that I will only be able to appreciate these big moments and take care of all that needs to be done with the help of Your hand. Thank You for the small petunia with all it's deeper demonstration of grace. I sure didn't deserve it, yet You are extremely faithful to answer my requests of You to show me more of You. Thank You for the assurance that just as You grew a small flower between the bricks, You will continue to meet my needs for my growth too.  .  . even in this particular busy and unlikely season, You are most definitely still at work above and below the surface.

Facing Fears By Holding Hands

I could tell from her cry that the fear was as sincere as it could be. Mommas know the differences in their kids' cries. It starts when they're young - there is the hungry cry, the tired cry, the change-my-diaper cry. . . As the baby gets older and is better able to communicate, some of the cries stop altogether, but there are a few tears that linger - the hurt cry, the angry cry and the scared cry.

At five and a half, Eliza had not cried the scared cry- not like this - in a long, long time. I recognized it instantly though and my heart hurt for her heart. I got on her level and did my best to help teach her how to address this very real, very valid fear.

"Look at me Eliza. What do you know to be true? Look at me. Let's think this through. Look at me. Look at me. The hippo isn't real. Look at me. It's just a robot. It can't get you. It won't get you. Look at me. I am right here. You aren't alone. Look at me. I won't let it get you because it can't get you."

Her sobs slowed and she slowly began to repeat the truths after me - "The hippo isn't real. Mommy is here. It's just a robot." We hugged and I took her hand as we proceeded into the restaurant to look at the aquarium of Finding Nemo type fishies.

Parenting that day outside of the Rainforest Cafe of the Opry Mills Mall, was definitely a moment where I felt the weight of my responsibility as a parent and, also was reminded about my role as a child of God as well.

Two of my three daughters have been deathly afraid of the life-sized animatronic hippopotamus outside of this particular restaurant. We've even nicknamed the whole mall, The Hippo Mall. On one level, it seems something silly to be scared about, but from their small vantage point in a time of their life where they are trying to ascertain reality from fantasy - it is a legitimate some thing to fear.

Eliza had been dreading that moment when we would arrive in THAT corner of the mall. Her feelings were so overwhelming, she could not rationally think through what she knew to be true. She could not talk herself off the ledge.  Her cry was one of desperation and despair.

As her parent, I know that she is old enough to handle this kind of thing - if she knows how. As her parent, I know that is my responsibility to teach her how to face this fear. As her parent, I know that teaching her to handle this fear gives me an opportunity to teach her how to face other fears, bigger ones, scarier ones, ones that won't be so easy to conquer.

So, I taught her to focus on the things she knew to be true. By teaching her to speak truths aloud, she can hear her own voice reminding her heart of what her brain already knows. That silly hippo no longer has a hold over her. His power is lessoned as her faith is strengthened.

Walking away with her little hand still grasping mine, I felt the nudge of the Holy Spirit.

This is why I read the Bible daily.
This is why I should memorize more scripture.
This is why I need to intentionally preach the gospel to myself.

I had studied a long time ago the inverse proportional relationship between faith and fear. When one increases, the other decreases. The more faith you have, the less fear and vice versa. If my faith increases, my fear will decrease. . .

When I find myself afraid, I need to do the very things I taught Eliza to do in the midst of that busy Nashville shopping mall. . . .

Look at Him.  - Just as she struggled to take her eyes off the thing causing her fear and refocus on her loving parent, I know I struggle too. I can't seem to take my eyes off my circumstances - that they will get worse or get me while I stop to look to God. Yet, He gently, consistently and patiently calls me to look at Him.

What do you know to be true?  - My God is bigger, My God is stronger, My God is higher than any other. (Do you know that chorus too?) He loves me. He has good plans for me. He will never leave me or forsake me. As I claim these truths, He shifts my perspective. What seemed so large, so overwhelming and so frightening no longer seems so daunting. He is given the rightful, dominate place and position over me and my fears.

Just as I reminded Eliza that I loved her and was there to take care of her - our God loves and cares for His children in the same way.

A few of the most fear-filled moments in my life were the hours I spent birthing our three loves. The Holy Spirit never failed to bring truth to the forefront of my mind as I dealt with painful contractions. The specific passages were ones I had memorized years before, but focusing on their timeless truth helped me to overcome my fears.

Despite His continual faithfulness in circumstances big and small, I still so easily become irrational and, at times, inconsolable over things that should not scare me. Satan knows my deepest insecurities and unashamedly exploits them.

His grace intervenes. Praise Him!

I need to be reminded of His presence in my darkest places and I need to know His truth reigns over all my feeble attempts of bravery and bravado. The Holy Spirit whispers, reminding me to look at Him, to reflect on what I know to be true.  As I speak the promises of God aloud, my heart hears the truth my brain knows and I am encouraged and empowered. My faith increases and my fear decreases.

Just as Eliza and I moved on, hand-in-hand, so will I. As faith, slowly and surely displaces my fears, I can walk confidently, holding the hand of my God who understands and controls what I cannot.


Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplash

What's Next?

Alright. What's next?

The things that have to be done are done.

The house is pretty clean for once. All 2 and half bathrooms are clean. The laundry is caught up. The girls are doing well in school. There is no crisis at work. My marriage is in a good place.

The calendar is full of the average, ordinary events, but nothing big or demanding is written on any of the squares.

The projects that have been pushed to someday, seem approachable and doable.

Life has a way of coming in and out like the tide. The waves never stop, but with certain phases of the moon, the water seems calmer, nicer and even cleaner. There are definitely phases of storms with all their uncertainty of what could happen next - how high the water might come and what destruction might be left in its path.

Right now though, things are good. I am content. We have found a normal and it isn't crazy. By God's grace, this phase of life is definitely "doable" and that kinda scares me . . .

It leaves me asking Him, "What's next?"

In my devotions and Bible studies, I have been reading over and over again how God's grace isn't always good from our perspective, how I should embrace trials and tribulations as one of His followers, and how if Jesus was a man of sorrows I can expect opportunities to emulate Him in sorrowful times of my own.

One of the take-aways in the Sunday school lesson this morning, was how God's protection, provision and presence goes with us - even if going puts in the fiery furnace of Shadrach, Meshach and Adednego. These guys stood firm on their solid knowledge of their God and told the king that even if God didn't save them from the fire, He was still God and still worth dying for.

I know God uses the calm periods in-between life's storms to prepare us for what's ahead. He teaches us the truths we need while we are in the light, so He can develop them in the dark when it is hard to see, hard to trust, and hard to go on.

So, I find myself questioning and thinking, "What's next?"

Is some bad news coming with the next ring of the phone? Is there a hard situation on the horizon that I need to be poised to work through? Is that pain that won't leave my knee a thing? Should I make a doctor's appointment?

Or has God placed me in this current phase because He is wanting something more for me or something else from me?  Is there something I am missing that I should be doing? Is there a relationship I could be working on? A friend to serve? A ministry to support? To start?

I don't know the answer to the question, "What's next?" But I know He knows and that is enough.

Ruth Chou Simmons of Gracelaced often says, "You don't have to be blooming to be growing." Maybe that is exactly where God has me right now. Maybe He is preparing my heart for hard days ahead. Maybe He is prepping me to take on a new project. Maybe He just wants me to be content with Him and not be looking for whatever's next.

So, I will press on. I will read my Bible and pray. I will worship and press into Him. I will love on my family and serve my people.

And, in the meantime, I might actually get my hall bathroom painted!

Photo by Larm Rmah on Unsplash

Redeeming Valentine's Day

It was the first time we had hired a babysitter. It was about that time of the afternoon when we needed to start to get ready to go out. But, we knew something wasn't right. Our oldest was three months shy of her first birthday and she wasn't quite herself. The baby thermometer confirmed our suspicions. She had a fever and our Valentine's Day plans were now kaput.

Wally could tell I was disappointed. He knows my thing with expectations. He also knew I couldn't leave my baby. I don't remember if there were tears involved, but he jumped into action, calling my favorite Italian restaurant and ordering our "go-to" dishes for carry out instead.

While he was gone to pick up our dinner, I caught his enthusiasm for our plan B and set about to surprise him with a beautifully set table. The seldom, if-ever-before-used china and crystal were set on the good cloth tablecloth awaiting his return. We plated the steak, chicken and pasta from the styrofoam take-out containers and sat down to candlelight and soft music.

Riley rested contentedly in her bouncy seat and we had our Valentine's date. No, it wasn't what we had planned or anticipated, but it was wonderful. We celebrated that God had given us each other and the sweet, little one who cooed from the floor. We talked about how nice it was to be home and not fighting the crowded restaurant with long lines and chaotic atmosphere.

I believe it was that Valentine's Day we decided to redeem the holiday.

The fourteenth of February can be so polarizing and stressful. It makes some feel lonely and others feel let down. Card and chocolate manufacturers compete for our money. While jewelers, florists and perfume companies do the same. If you aren't "with" somebody, you wonder what is wrong with you. If you are "with" someone, you wonder if your gift is sending the "right" message or is the "right" size. In our over-sexed culture, romance has taken on new meanings. Without a biblical worldview,  people will be let down believing that this distorted definition of love is all there is. It is easy to become cynical and skeptical. Honestly, I can't blame anyone for discarding the whole holiday if this is what they are celebrating.

On the Valentine's Day described above, we had no idea that God would bless us with two more daughters to steward their hearts. We encourage Disney princess movies and Jane Austin novels. They witness kisses and embraces between their parents and know we have date nights and anniversary get-a-ways. They know we pray for their future spouses and that we long for God to bless them with strong biblical marriages to strong Christian men.  But . . . we pray for much more than that for them . . .

. . . We pray for them to intimately know the God who intimately knows them AND loves them with an amazing love beyond their comprehension.

We decided on that Valentine's night sixteen years ago to incorporate our kids into our Valentine's Day plans. We would eat a GOOD meal full of our favorites, either gathered from various restaurants or prepared in our own kitchen. We would break out the china and use the silver-plate. We would use this over-commercialized holiday to intentionally teach our girls about the love that is described in 1 Corinthians 13.

Boys will only let girls down. God did not design anyone person to complete any other person. That longing and desire that my daughters will one day have can ONLY be fulfilled completely in the love that God provides. Any other way will only lead to stressful relationships and disappointment. ONLY God can love them they way He created them to be loved. I want them to know this love.

Romance is not dead. Sure, chivalry might be, but true self-sacrificing, promise-keeping, faithful devotion, always-being-there commitment can ONLY be found in the love that God loves us with. No matter how wonderful he is, he will one day, somehow disappoint them and let them down. God alone will always be there for them. I want them to know this love.

No one can blame the spouse that bails on the marriage when their partner has broken their vows and been unfaithful. But, God forgives our indiscretions and paid the debt of our continued unfaithfulness. He knows our worst thoughts, wrong motivations and our out-right willful sins yet continues to be lovingly faithful to us. He doesn't overlook our short-comings but ONLY He can transform our offenses into His righteousness through the death of His Son. I want them to know this love.

This love that never fails will never let us down. This love is worth celebrating with the good china and rich food. This love should be remembered and talked about and given recognition. Our family chooses to do this on Valentine's Day.

My girls know I am crazy "in" love with their father. They know how handsome I find him and how devoted he is to me as well. We would all agree that one of our greatest blessings is the love that he and I share. I will not diminish it, but I will say that as great and as special as it is - our romantic love pales in comparison to the love that God has lavishly, continually, bestowed upon us.

We will exchange small gifts and cards. As their first Valentine, Wally will get the girls modest presents too, showing them his love for them in a tiny tangible way. He models for them something far greater than how they should expect a man to treat them someday. He is modeling for them everyday how their Heavenly Father loves them.

This intentionality has led me to use the seemingly endless stream of diamond, perfume and edible arrangement commercials to cultivate prayers of thanksgiving. By His grace alone, I am the recipient of the most amazing love. This is the love that I am choosing to celebrate this week.

I posted this tonight, so you might be challenged to do the same - redeem Valentine's Day. Use this secular holiday to commemorate and celebrate the sacred love that God has, is and will continue to give us.

A "Way" In A Manger

The advertisement on the back of our insurance company's monthly magazine is fantastic. I had never heard of the company, but they definitely got my attention.

Across the top of their ad was this statement, printed this way:

"aWAY in a manger

was born on the first Christmas night."

Under that was a picture of a manger on the right and in the sun set picture of the left can be found the three crosses of Calvary. 

Then along the bottom of the picture reads:

"There has been only one Christmas, the rest are anniversaries." 

I haven't been able to get this thought, this image out of my head since. My pastor mentioned the ad from the pulpit on Sunday morning. It made an impression on him too. The Christmas hymn, "Away In A Manger" has taken on a new meaning I won't soon forget. 

But as I've pondered it, I have also reflected how Jesus said He was THE way, the truth and the life. (John 14:6 - emphasis mine)

The ladies and I that meet for Bible Study on the last Friday of the month examined the names of Christ in relation to advent just this past Friday. (Check out this great resource - Unwrapping the Names of Jesus) We looked at that verse from John, but focused on how He called Himself "The Truth." Just as He isn't "a" truth, He is THE truth. 

There isn't another way to God. There isn't another truth to find. There isn't another true life out there to live or obtain. 

All other ways to God will fail. All other thoughts on Truth are Satan's attempts to distort Jesus. All other lives that are lived without Him are mere shadows and facades of what they were intended to be. 

Jesus was, is and will always be THE WAY that was born in a manger.  

Two Thoughts on Thanksgiving

I can't let today go by without putting my two cents out there on this holiday.

FIRST -
Let's be intentional about Who we are thanking on thanksgiving.

This day is not considered a religious or sacred holiday. American - yes. Motivated by faith - sadly no.

But the origins of the first thanksgiving were filled with celebrating the goodness of the God that had taken care of and provided for the pilgrims. It wasn't a "high church" holiday and they probably weren't concerned with starting an annual tradition. They were simply and intentionally thanking GOD.

Our public school teachers are not worried about the separation of church and state when they color copied turkeys or ask their students to write essays with the topic of what they are thankful for.

But when the atheist or the average non-Christ follower is thankful on Thanksgiving, who are they thanking?

As I watched "Dancing with The Stars Juniors" on Sunday night, I couldn't help but wonder who the kids were thanking when they were interviewed. The theme of the night was "thanksgiving" and they were to tell (and dance in honor of) who they were thankful for. But who were they thanking?

On Mother's Day we show appreciation to our moms, Father's Day, our dads. We rightfully have Veteran's Day to thank our Vets and Memorial Day to show appreciation for the soldiers who never made it home.

We don't pick our parents, our nation of origin, our health or our IQ. As Christians, we know and need to acknowledge that it all comes from God.

We NEED a day where we stop and say "thank You" to the God who has given and sustains and upholds it all through His Son. Thanksgiving is the perfect time to simply and intentionally thank HIM for all He has given us, is currently providing for us and promises to bless us with in the future.

SECOND -

My second thought on this holiday is a natural out pouring of the first . . .

Some may say that Christmas decorations before the turkey dinner are premature and outta place. At least get the dishes washed and put away before dragging out the tinsel and the tree.

There was a time that I would have agreed whole-heartedly with that train of thought. Not anymore.

Our decorations were put up and out last weekend. Yes, I packed away the pumpkins and set out all my snowman friends. The trees are decorated the nativity sets are displayed.

Yes, there is less stress to our holiday season. The house decorating is crossed off the ever-growing "to-do" list. We had fun placing ornaments and now we are getting to enjoy the fruits of our labor a little longer in a season that seems to go by much too quickly....

But now, there is much more intention for me in the decorating before Thanksgiving Day.

I cannot think of a better way to begin celebrating the coming of Christ than in thanksgiving. With the house dressed for the festivities of the season, I am reminded everywhere I look of the most amazing gift God gave me -Jesus and I am SO thankful.

I want to be thankful all Christmas season long and into the New Year as well. This is the holiday spirit to me, a spirit of thankfulness and thanksgiving of everything it means to have Immanuel, God with us.

The same God I am thanking on Thanksgiving is the God whose birth we celebrate at Christmas.

With all the gatherings and parties - at work, at school, for work, with this side of the family and then with that side - it's all about and for and through Him anyway . . . It's only logical to decorate before we carve the turkey and begin a celebration that lasts 6 weeks at least.

Let Thanksgiving be the kickoff party for all the festivities to come with Christ as the central focus of it all. And if that is the goal then of course the Christmas decorations SHOULD be done in the middle of November.

When I started this post, I offered these thoughts as my "two cents." I am not sure they are worth that much to you, but I felt that this is part of the whole purpose behind blogging - to share what I think about whatever. Well, these are just my two thoughts on Thanksgiving....

God's Anniversary Present to Us

I don't want to forget a thing about this past weekend.

It was absolutely perfect and a perfect reminder of just how good our God is.

Lemme explain . . .

Twenty years ago when we married, Wally and I decided that we would spend our 20th anniversary where we were blessed to honeymoon. Well, real life happened and a return trip to Maui was not in the cards this year.

But we couldn't let our December anniversary date slip into the holiday fog of obligations and responsibilities, only to be procrastinated into a later celebration that may or may not happen - not this year, not for our 20th anniversary . . .

So months ago we began to plan and anticipate a weekend away from home, daughters and distractions. I suggested we do something we had always wanted to do, but never seemed to be able to make a priority . . . We would visit Neyland Stadium and cheer on the Tennessee Vols.

Wally made the hotel reservations and bought the tickets. I packed the girls' bags and made the arrangements to spend the nights with their friends.

From the time we left the county every little detail seemed to just fall into place. At every turn we saw God's goodness and His grace. The traffic was easy. The room was nice. The conversation between us flowed.

We ate delicious food at a couple of neat Knoxville places, sampling the dishes in front of the other without having to cut up anyone else's food or coax them into taking one more bite.

Walking onto campus we followed University of Tennessee's quarterback's parents to "The Vol Walk" where we cheered the football players' and coaches' arrival to the stadium. We watched the band descend on the stadium and found where The Vol Navy was docked or anchored in the river under the  bluest sky we had seen in weeks.

When we made our way to our ticketed spots we found that "our" seats just "happened" to include the cushioned and backed stadium seats. We took off our coats and soaked up the heat of the sun for the entire first half.

Yes, the second half was a lot cooler but our guys were winning and somehow the cold didn't seem so cold. We stayed for the band to play "The Tennessee Waltz" to the players after their upset win over a ranked rival team from the state north of ours.

As we left, the fans were still chanting and cheering. Our voices were a little hoarse, but neither of us minded. We walked into downtown Knoxville and found we did not have to wait for a table at this cool, hip, tapas and tacos place.

More than once over the course of our time together, we just kept marveling at how God seemed to be blessing our little trip will lots of little extras that seemed to just be that - little extra blessings.

Why would God do that? Why would He bless us with all these seemingly insignificant "extras" all weekend long?

He is still good, and most definitely still God, if we wait for a table or don't have nice soft seats for our bums. Eternity is not altered by our enjoyment of His weather or how tasty the chicken biscuit was at breakfast.

However all weekend long, we both chose to acknowledge God as the Giver of all these good gifts. From the families that took care of our children to the unexpected win of our favorite team, we both were intentional to thank God for His provisions. He seemed to do immeasurable more than we had asked or imagined. (Eph. 3:20)

I firmly believe that God delights in giving us good things. Just as we delight in seeing our kids enjoy the gifts we give them, God loves to see us enjoy the blessings He gives us.

I firmly believe that there is no such thing as luck. Wally and I weren't lucky on our trip. We were blessed over and over again.

I firmly hope that God was glorified over and over again as we acknowledged each blessing a long the way - that He was delighted in us as we delighted in Him.

Since returning, I have been asked several times about our trip. I honestly can't imagine it going any better. I could not have written a better time. My expectations were exceeded by my God who gifted us with the best anniversary gift.

That's my God - an amazing gift giver who is even greater than the greatest gifts He gives.

He showed me in countless ways that He loves us, pursues us and does good things for us.

I know we don't deserve this attention from Him much less His attention to details in our lives, yet He goes above and beyond to see to all of the littlest things. If I open my eyes, I can see where He is at work everyday doing countless things to show me that love. I just had to get away to see it this past weekend . . .

Yes, I had an amazing time with my amazing husband. We experienced a lot and had the best time. We made some great memories - but I want to make sure I don't forget the role God played in it all. That's the memory I want to hold to the longest . . .

Mindfully Eating

Gluten-free, Dairy-free, Nut-free . . . Low fat, fat free . . . Protein, Carbs, Antioxidants . . .

Lately, as I am mindfully, intentionally trying to make "a million little decisions," (see my last post) I find myself reading more and more nutritional labels on just about everything. I even find myself paying attention to the calorie count on menus in restaurants.

The idea of "going on a diet" has never been appealing to me. I mean, does it really appeal to anyone?! If you tell me I can't eat something, that something becomes the only thing I want. Besides, diets just don't seem practical for long-term, real-life living.

So, for me, I am trying to approach my food decisions with the idea of moderation. Sodas and sweets but smaller portions and only so much. Bread and pasta but less of it. Small protein-packed snacks often because my husband and daughters can tell you I am not at all pretty or the least bit kind when I am "hangry."

Saturday, for example, I knew my husband and I would have a date night. Dinner would be out and without kids. I decided to eat a smarter breakfast and then a salad for lunch. At dinner I didn't think twice when we ordered cheesy naan with our Indian food entrees.

Food - what I eat, how and when I eat it - has now consistently become something that requires much more thought and planning and consideration. I would even say that this kind of intentionality has become habitual.

I was contemplating this new "hobby" of mine when I came across this quote on Instagram about Bible reading:

"This means taking in his words at a more reflective and enjoyable (you might even say 'leisurely') pace - rather than rushing through to cover as much ground as possible. I remind myself that the goal is to find food for my soul . . . not check reading plan boxes and just avail my mind of additional biblical data. Call it 'eating-mindfully' . . . whatever you call it, finding a slower pace goes hand in hand with faithfully gathering a day's portion." -David Mathis, (Desiring God, 9-2-18)

This reminded me of the Israelites that were to only gather one day's portion of manna as they were wandering in the desert. In the book of Deuteronomy, Moses explains that the reason for the manna and its portion restrictions, were to teach God's people to know that man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. (Duet. 8:3)

Like the Israelites, I need a daily portion and I need it to LIVE. What kind of portion am I surviving on?

Living on this side of the cross and at this point in HIStory, we have the Word of God conveniently wrapped and packaged for us in all kinds of ways. However, with all its ease and accessibility, I take it for granted and still not "eat" it wisely. I believe we still need to read the labels, do some research and make sure we are getting quality stuff when we study God's Word. 

Just because the packaging is pretty or the "Christian" you know on Facebook has given her endorsement, it may not be solid in it's theology. Anything out there professing to be Godly needs to measured against the Word of God itself - we can't settle for anything else. 

AND - confession time- I need to make sure when I am taking in God's Word that I am studying it on a level that will challenge me. I need to be chewing on a passage that is hard for me to understand or difficult for me to apply. I need this solid food to grow. 

Didn't Paul write about believers needing more than milk? I like milk. I am used to milk. It's a comfort food for me and makes me feel good - especially with hot, fresh from the oven chocolate-chip cookies! 

The question for me is how am I approaching God's Word? Is my Bible reading only motivated by my desire to scratch something else off my to-do list? Am I only reading it to prep for Bible study I am teaching? Or am I reading it, searching in it, for what it is that God wants to speak to my soul today?

Not having that kind of Bible reading experience you want? Join me in my prayer that God will open our eyes to see and consume His Word the way He intends for us. I believe His Word in John where He tells us we don't have because we don't ask AND that if we seek Him we will find Him. 

Why do I believe these things? I read it -over and over again - in His Word until it finally sinks in and I am able to digest in a way that continues to do my heart good . . . 

Besides if I am going to use so much brain power and time focused on the physical food I am putting into my physical body, I think it is time to devote some additional brain power and time to focus on what I am feeding my soul. How about you?

"A Million Little Decisions"

Looking back, of course I was standing in the buffet line, loading my plate with casseroles and desserts, when she asked me how my husband felt about the baby. She said, "He must be so excited!" I looked at her more than a little confused. My "baby" was four. Whose baby had she seen Wally with? From my reaction, she quickly covered her mistake with the statement, "I don't know where I heard you were expecting."

I still didn't get it.

At the time, I believed that she had heard a rumor somewhere and not that she assumed from my weight that I as pregnant.

At the time, I was pretty ignorant. Sure, I knew my body shape had changed and that the scales were reading heavier than they ever had, BUT, I had a whole list of excuses:
 -My body had simply changed after birthing three children.
-"They" weren't making clothes true to size anymore.
-Weight gain is a common side effect of my medication.
-It's hormonal.
-My bathroom scale is inaccurate.

At this time, I can look back at this list and see the absurdity in it. There is enough truth to them that the lies of each were easy to believe. The weight gain hadn't happened over night and neither had my disconnect with my self-image. In my head, I thought looked one way, but the reality was different.

I was beginning to not like how I looked in ANY picture and I found myself trying to avoid being photographed. My favorite jeans were no longer comfortable. I didn't like how I looked in anything I tried on in dressing room and I would refuse to try on anything above a "certain" number.

In my ignorance I assumed that my health issues were unrelated, but when my cardiologist explained that I would need to remain on my beta-blocker for, well, perhaps for the rest of my life, I had to ask him what I could do to not need that drug.  After all, at not quite 42 and in overall good health, this seemed a bit drastic. He was kind. He never said I was overweight. He didn't put me on a diet or give me brochures about cholesterol. He did point out that losing some weight would give my heart a break and then -maybe, I wouldn't need the prescription.

As we left the office all the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place - the lady at the buffet, the tight jeans, the way I looked in the family Easter portrait. The truth of the doctor's words slowly exposed the reasons I had used to be the excuses they were.

I needed to lose weight.

I needed to lose it the right way for the right reasons in the right timing.

I didn't want to send the wrong message to my impressionable daughters. I didn't want my expectations to be unrealistic. I didn't want to obsess over a number on the scale.

Prayerfully, God led me to examine and evaluate little decisions each and every day.

His Word tells me not to worry about tomorrow, but to focus on the gift of THIS day. I don't know what will happen in the next 24 hours, nor can I change what happened in the last 24 - but I can take each day, each decision as it comes.

His Word promises that the Holy Spirt will strengthen and guide me and provide a way to stand up under temptation.

So, through His help and over the last  5 months, I have drastically cut carbs and soda. I have made moderate exercise a priority and just tried to be intentional about what I eat, when I eat and how I eat. By His grace, I have lost some weight, my clothes fit better and people have noticed.

I have prayed about writing about this on here because I have not wanted to draw attention to this part of my journey, but God has definitely used it to speak truth to me in some ways I think He is wanting me to share -

Like my weight gain, sin creeps up on us all. It doesn't hit us all at once but begins to take its toll on our lives and well-being. We can make excuses and sweep it under the rug until one day we don't like what we see when we look in the mirror. We don't know how we got that way or what we really need to do about it - until we are confronted with the truth.

My Dr. Myers plainly presented me with the truth. His role in this is similar to the Holy Spirit's. To be honest the self-evaluation that follows is hard. None of us want to accept that kind of truth, taking ownership of how we've fallen and seeing what we've become.

While God's forgiveness is complete with our sincere repentance, the journey back to a healthy relationship with Him is often hard and time consuming. It is made up of lots and lots of small decisions each and every day - to pray or not, to read His Word or not, to obey in this situation or not, to respond in a Christ-honoring way or not, to consume this media, to spend this time on tech, to look for Him, to let Him be Lord . . .

When the effort is made, when we are faithful in the small things over time, the old, sinful self melts away and the hearts of flesh He is creating in us beats ever stronger. His presence in our lives is more intimately felt as we grow as His disciples.

The small things are important. Each decision we make either draws us closer or pulls us away from where we need to be. Are we losing ground? Are we gaining weight? Are we shedding sin? Are we building spiritual muscle?

This is how we "do" life with Him. This is how we abide. It's in the "million little decisions" we make each day. All those little things slowly and surely add up to big differences - a life of faith lived out in real ways.

My prayer is that we will train and run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Hebrews 12:1-2)

Disney Cast Members In Real Life

She was 20 years and from New Zealand. I asked her how her parents felt about her being so far away and she kinda laughed. "Well, they were concerned about the hurricane. I didn't even know about the hurricane!"

My new friend, Christyana, was managing the Fast Pass Kiosk of the Frozen Sing-a-Long Show at Disney's Hollywood Studios.

We were there early for the 7:30 show, the last show of the day, and I began our short conversation by commenting on her accent.

The Disney Parks are staffed by countless people varying in ages and backgrounds from literally all around the globe. They are all called "Cast Members" whether they dress up as a mouse or clean the bathrooms. Their name tags are a simple oval shape with their name and hometown. And they are literally EVERYWHERE.

Disney is known for their immaculately clean parks and excellent customer service - all accomplished by Cast Members.

As a guest in the park it would be extremely easy to take these people and their jobs for granted. They are rushed by, overlooked and often ignored. They deal with grumpy, sweaty, people who often feel entitled because of the price they may have paid for admittance. Yet, they ALL seem to smile and speak in pleasant tones even when explaining why your child cannot climb on the landscaping.

In the last year, we had a good friend spend not one but two semesters working a ride in Pandora of the Animal Kingdom Park. Cast Members took on a new meaning to us as we visited Walt Disney World over fall break. We had listened to her stories and had asked her a bazillion questions, learning how often Cast Members just longed to be acknowledged as people too.

While on past trips we had always tried to be nice to Cast Members, this trip we were intentional to look Cast Members in the eyes, to say a genuine "thank you" and, when we could, strike up a conversation. . .

That's how I met Christyana. She wasn't just a show kiosk attendant. She IS a person with a background and a story and a soul. She is one of nearly 60,000 that may work there during a peak season.

But there is only one Christyana. God made her, loves her, sent His Son to die for her and wants a relationship with her - just like every other Cast Member - and every other "incidental" person that I share the road with, stand in line at the grocery with and sit with in the dentist's waiting room.

Knowing in my heart that God is sovereign and that nothing happens accidentally, my intentionality at Disney NEEDS to carry over to my everyday life here at home too.

I often tell the teens in my Sunday school class that it isn't accidental that they sit where they do in their classes. Even if their teacher allowed them to choose their seat, God put them there with those kids and that teacher for His purpose.

If I hold to His control over ever incident and nothing is coincidental, then that truth carries over in other places too.  

The chances I will ever see or speak to Christyana again aren't great. I didn't speak to her about Jesus. I know nothing about her faith - but I do know about mine.

My faith doesn't allow me to blow past and not engage those around me and it compels me to speak up, reaching out to acknowledge the humanity and Imago Dei, the image of God, He intentionally placed in us all.

My prayer is that as I do engage people in conversation that the Holy Spirit will move and speak and use these encounters to draw others to Himself.

My calling is to be obedient to that compulsion, trusting that God knows the heart and the past of the individual I am engaged with and that He will take care of all the rest - whatever it needs to be. I just need to see others the way He does and obey.

My husband, Wally, and I have said since our first joint visit to Disney World ten years ago that when we "retired" we would move to Orlando and get jobs as Cast Members. Loving the discount and being assured that our girls would bring their families to visit were two of the perks we listed as reasons for this plan. Another reason would be to set up an intentional ministry to Cast Members. Maybe they would come from all over the globe thinking that they were coming to work at "The Happiest Place on Earth," but maybe, God in His sovereignty would have them coming there to meet Him. Maybe God would use us to reach them.

Maybe there are Cast Members here in our every day life that God wants to reach through us now.

Lord, open my eyes to see the people "in the background" of my life. Help me to see them the way that you do. Find me obedient to the prompting of Your Spirt and use me however You will to do whatever You would have me to do. 

Thoughts and Feelings

I got off the phone and could feel the lump in my throat rising. The hot tears began to sting my eyes. I did not want to cry.

My head knew that God was in control, He would provide and His timing was always perfect. But my tears revealed the reality of what had happened in my heart.

I had slowly but ever-so-surely in my inmost being taken back control of what I would have professed with my mouth that I had given to God, claimed was His and thought I had entrusted to Him.

In the grand scheme of life, the situation was far from life-threatening or even life-altering, but the tears that spilled down my cheeks and my cracking voice revealed so much more. Their presence revealed my true lack of faith and how I had begun trusting in my own abilities at some point. At some point my sinful pride had entered into the equation and the unexpected phone call was God's gracious way of waking me up to its presence.

He could have allowed me to go on that way - thinking that I had everything under control and I was handling things oh-so-well and I was providing. But He didn't. He intervened. He exposed my sin.

The exposure was private. He didn't want to shame me publicly. He DID want to wake me to the unintentional place I was in. He loves like that - not wanting me to remain in the darkness but to use the light to show me where He is working. (Had I proceeded in the way I was and not acknowledged my sin, HIs next "wake-up call" to me may have been more public. He loves me THAT much. He will do the hard things.)

That day my tears of frustration melted into tears of embarrassment and then tears of confession.

Unknowingly, I had accepted and adopted these sinful tendencies. My mind still knew all the "right" words and thoughts, but my heart was far from actually believing and walking in them. My emotions that Friday afternoon were the barometer that God used to show me how far my heart had wandered from what I thought . . .

His restoration was sweet and His reconciliation to Himself was simply good.

In the days that followed, I was able to rest. He gently told my soul, "This is mine. I have always had it. I will take care of it."  I was able to leave it in His more-than-capable hands. He continued to be faithful. I turned my attention to my family. He blessed our time together and allowed me to go through the week without worry.

It's been two weeks today since I got that phone call. This issue is not resolved, but He is providing. My prayer life and my perspective are changed. My faith is growing. He is more than sufficient. And I am learning even more about abiding in Him . . .

Writing In Pencil

I guess it was somewhere toward the end of elementary school when it happened. Pencils were no longer cool to write with. Teachers WANTED final copies of important assignments done in ink and pencils were regulated to math only.

Even the plain black and ordinary blue inks seemed vibrant next to the dull graphite on the page. As a girl, I loved the gel pens of every imaginable color and even now, I find myself drawn to their beautiful colors and bright packaging.

However, in the last few months something has changed. The pendulum has swung back to the good old number 2s.  I have found that the old, standby is incredibly valuable to me and my sanity. It has been a gradual and unintentional shift, but I have definitely made a change.

Instead of reaching for my favorite ink pen - and I do have a nice one my momma bought me for Christmas, I find myself reaching for the matching mechanical pencil.

Why? The answer is amazingly simple - the eraser.

Last year, when I couldn't find a planner or agenda to meet my needs, I resorted to making my own bullet journal. I found it practical to meet our family's crazy scheduling needs and my own desire to keep everything I needed to keep us organized in one place.

When I first looked up bullet journalling ideas on Pinterest I quickly decided to set my bar pretty low for creativity and style. There are some pretty elaborate and easily overwhelming ideas to immolate on its endless boards of pins and posts. My journal would HAVE to been practical to work for me and I would HAVE to make sure my expectations would be realistic.

I didn't create a scrapbook type archive, but from a small, Walmart-bought, spiral notebook I found a place to write my to-do lists, keep a calendar, and make records of bills paid, notes written and Christmas gifts bought.

But, I found myself hesitant to write within the simple pages in ink. What if plans changed? What if I didn't allow enough room? What if the ink bled through to the next page?

So, I reached for the pencil.

Knowing I could erase, I felt more free to be more creative. If I didn't like it, I could erase it and start over. Also, I found if plans changed, because, let's face it they do - I could erase the entry and move it.

Life rarely goes like I plan. My plans often change or are changed for me. Putting them in pencil somehow makes them less set and makes it less traumatic when they alter. It gives me a way to hold my agenda and expectations more loosely.

Because the journal is my calendar and "command center," I carry it with me pretty much everywhere. As a result, so does a pencil. There are times now where I can't find a pen, but I have my trusty pencil.

One Sunday, while listening to the sermon I wanted to make a note in my Bible. It was one of those times that I couldn't find my pen, so I reached for the pencil. Again, it was liberating to write on the thin page in pencil. I erased and moved my note. Now, I find myself making more and more of these little pencil insights in my Bible.

I realize that our perfect God doesn't make mistakes. He has no need for an eraser. That fact is one of the reasons that I praise Him. His Word tells me that He has already written all my days in His book before one of them ever came to be. That is another fact that I praise Him for. Because of His perfection, He could write those days for me in a Sharpie marker.

As I write in pencil in my bullet journal and my Bible, I am student, a disciple of His learning how number my days that I might gain a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:12). At least in my mind, as I write in pencil, I am more flexible to let the Lord direct my steps (Psalm 37:23). His plans and ways are higher than mine anyway (Isaiah 55:9), so shouldn't I make all plans in pencil to begin with? I want Him to have the freedom to change my plans. Writing them in pencil keeps me from holding my plans so tightly.

While my weekly to-do list is not grand, I want God free to dictate how I spend my afternoon. Seeing my plans written in pencil, I can easily slide something from today to tomorrow or even next week. I am able to better prioritize what really needs to be done to what doesn't. I have found windows of opportunity to simply be still and know He is God all because I have passed over the pen for a pencil.

It is in these everyday decisions and activities that the Holy Spirit and I are building a lifetime of faithful obedience. My pencil has become a tool in this process of sanctification and it is working right now for me.

It's a simple change but it has had huge implications for how I look at my days, myself and my God.

The Middle

"Rejoice in the Lord always, 

Again I will say, rejoice."

Philippians 4:4

I always assumed that this verse was found in Psalms. I mean it sounds like a Psalm. It sounds like something David would have written and sung and danced while singing.

But, instead, this passage is attributed to Paul. He wrote it to the believers in Philippi, believers facing immense persecution for their faith, who would have found this exhortation hard to swallow. 

While I cannot relate to their persecution, I do know how hard this verse is to obey . . . 

Rejoicing in the Lord is easy when everyone is healthy and happy, when things are going well and turning out how I had imagined and envisioned. Expectations are being met. Life and God are both good. 

However, "always" means "always" and life isn't always good - even though God is. I should still be able to rejoice when life is busy, when it is stressful, uncertain and not-at-all like I want it to be. Why? Because even when life isn't, He still is - good.

When the "bad" things happen and I find myself in the midst of negative life circumstances, I have learned that Paul's instructions to rejoice are invaluable. I NEED to worship, to turn my attention from my situation and from my feelings to the One I know to be Lord over them- all my feelings as well as all my situations. 

But, the hardest place for me to "rejoice always" is in the middle. Praise and worship comes easy for me in life's highs. It is my go-to for survival in life's lows. Yet, we don't seem to live day-to-day in either extreme. Most of my life anyway is somewhere in the middle. 

The middle is the mundane, the everyday, the routine. The middle is the endless piles of clothes and dishes. The middle is the way my almost 5 year old messes her room up as soon as we clean it up. 

The middle is where my contentment is lost and I begin to wonder if what I do really matters. 

The middle is where Satan attacks my weakest points and causes me to doubt. Questions creep from the farthest reaches of my mind, clouding my view with insecurities and fears. What is my purpose? Who really cares? Why should I care?

Then come the comparisons. If I am honest this "envy parade" seems endless and is a constant struggle. I wish I was doing what she is. Why won't God use me like that? If only, my house were a little bigger or my wallet a little fatter or my waist a little smaller - then I could do more, have more, be more  - All for God and His purposes - of course!

Yet, that is when my focus couldn't be farther from Him and His purposes. My eyes have fallen from His throne, His glory and His goodness to my agenda, my purposes and my definition of success. 

This is the place, the middle, where it is the hardest for me to rejoice always. 

I read this quote online a little while back and it has stuck with me:

"Cease endlessly striving for what you want to do and learn to love must by done."

-Goethe

I don't think this German philosopher would hold to my theology of God, Christ and His church, but his words here are definitely wise and worth taking into consideration. - As a Christ-follower, my life is no longer about me and what I want to do, even if the things I want to do are things I want to do for Him. I have surrendered my life to Him, making Him my Lord and relinquishing all rights to myself.

Each day I should rejoice with the knowledge that He goes before me, is with me and guards me from behind. Here, especially in the middle is where He grows my faith to appreciate the highs and endure the lows.

Yes, these "middle" days are filled with lots of loads of what "must be done." However, if I fight this mental battle by capturing the thoughts that are contrary and sinful, and if I choose to rejoice always - the battle will be won and I will come to appreciate and even love the things that must be done.

How am I sure of this victory? Christ's death and resurrection assures the ultimate victory over my sinful ways. As He works in me and I work in Him, God gives me the switch and the ability to flip it. What I have to do becomes what I get to do.

I can appreciate the laundry because He has opened my eyes to realize that each sock represents an incredible blessing - a person who enriches my life, whom I love and who may not always be there. I can pray protection over the foot it will cover - that those little feet may be careful where they go. That chore loses it's power to sway my attitude and to shrink my vision of God.

Gratitude replaces discontentment. Comparison gives way to appreciation. Fears subside into growing faith.

When I rejoice in the Lord always, especially here in the middle, my focus stays fixed on God. He dictates my perspective and leaves me longing to stay in His presence.

And as David did say in the Psalms that is a pretty good place to be:

"You make known to me the path of life; 

in your presence there is fullness of joy;

at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."

Psalm 16:11

A Good Weekend.

It's 8:30 pm on Labor Day.

I didn't do much on this three-day weekend. Well, I did get a few things accomplished. I am pretty much ready to drop off 80+ items for a local consignment sale. The laundry is caught up. I deep cleaned my kitchen. With Wally's help, my floors are cleaner than they were this morning. I played "Memory" and "Monopoly Empire" with my daughters.

Yet, as I reflect on the last three days, I can't help but think I could've done more. Maybe I should've done more. I have yet to see if there are old costumes in the dress-up box that could be consigned. I am sure that if I sorted the clothes in the hamper, I could run a load yet tonight. And I didn't even try to clean the oven.

I get on Facebook and Instagram. There I see the memories my friends made with their kids over the long, holiday weekend. Soon I find myself thinking maybe we should have taken the girls somewhere and done something with them.

Or, maybe we could've tackled one of those projects we never seem to get around to getting done because we tell ourselves we don't have the time. If I had better thought through this weekend, if I had planned more, then maybe the bathrooms could've been painted or the mulch laid or the basement cleaned out.

It doesn't take much for my mind to spiral into a black hole of regret when I really don't have anything to regret. Whether I am comparing my life to the social media image of "everyone" else or fighting my own unrealistic expectations of myself - my thought life can be a weary place to reside, where the glass is rarely half full and always seems to be half empty.

Can anyone else relate to the striving? The feelings of inadequacy? To the idea of enough?

Overall, I have had a really GOOD weekend. I have been productive. I have rested. I have worshipped. I have played. I have exercised. I have planned for the week ahead. Yet, I am not content . . . I want more . . .

Success is only elusive if we are the ones defining it. If we allow God's definition of success to pervade our thoughts and permeate our motivations, we will find contentment.

He calls us to "be still." He tells us that His "load is easy" and His "burden is light." Yet, I struggle to live that way -still with an easy load and light burdens.

I read this on Instagram recently and it really hit home:

"We want formulas for victory, but God is forever reminding us the He alone delivers, and His greatest purpose in us isn't for our success, but our surrender." ~Ruth Chow Simmons

I SO want to take each day and receive it as the gift from God that it is, -to be faithful in it with the relationships and responsibilities that God has laid in my hands that day - not worrying about precedents that might be set for tomorrow or what tomorrow itself might hold. It is a definite balancing act and the tension is real.

But if I believe that the day and what it holds has passed through God's providential hands, then when the sun sets on it, I must have the faith that His grace will cover what I did and didn't do. If I did what I did "as for the Lord," living in surrender to Him, then no matter the outcome, it would be successful - maybe not by my standards, but by His.

As a mom, heck, as an adult - there are a lot of things that I do in a day that I will simply have to get up and re-do tomorrow. As long as the Lord-tarries and we live in this fallen place, it is easy to become weary in what seems like the mundane and even meaningless.

I want to find success in feelings of accomplishment. But my goal should not be in the doing or in the getting "it" done.  Instead my goal should be stepping aside and allowing God to assign the value for my days, then I am guaranteed success - for His purpose and plans are never thwarted. The day is no longer about me and what do with it, but rather what He does through my surrender of it.

My expectations and plans are what I need to surrender. This is the place where He can then redeem my 24 hours and do more than I could have ever asked for or imagined. From this perspective, I can rest tonight. I can be assured that my weekend was indeed good. I can get up tomorrow ready to do it all again.

I can rest because God has finished all the work on my behalf. God rested on the 7th day because His work of creating the heavens and the earth was done. Jesus sits on the right-hand of the throne of God, because His work is accomplished. Then, why do I keep struggling, questioning and doubting if I measure up? Because my focus is on myself, on others, on anything other than God.

So tonight, I wrap up this post and find an hour and a half has passed. It's been good for me to reflect on what God has shown me and grown me this weekend. No, we didn't invite that couple over for fellowship. But, God has shown me His grace and given me a sense of sufficiency that what He did with this weekend was good.

It was a good weekend.

A House Vs. A Home

They're working on the inside of the house across the street.

They have memories of it from growing up in it, bringing their children and grandchildren to it, but now their visits are only bitter-sweet.

The sweet man who watched the street from his seat on the front porch joined his wife in the throne room of heaven this summer. His cane would rest on his lap as he noticed the comings and goings of all the neighbors.

We met him not long after we moved in. When we chatted he spoke fondly of his youth growing up near the Mississippi River, he chatted about his years working toward retirement at Trane and he would grow a little misty-eyed remembering his wife.

He didn't share too much about his faith, but it was strong. No longer driving himself, he always had rides arranged to get him to and from his church both on Sundays and Wednesdays. He noticed the summer that college students' cars lined the road between our house and his. He let me know he thought it was "pretty great" that those kids were coming over for Bible study.

His meals were brought by the Swan's truck and every delivery he got, he ordered a box of ice cream bars for my girls. Honestly, he bought them faster than we could eat them. He's been gone now over a month and there are still at least 3 boxes in our freezer. I never could find the words to ask him to stop because I knew he delighted in the few minutes our daughters spent with him as he would shuffle to his freezer for their sweet treat. I learned at his visitation that we weren't the only ones he bestowed this honor of receiving his generosity in this way. He couldn't drive, but he still found ways to give.

Now, when I open the freezer and notice the boxes, I cannot help but smile.

I still look for him sitting there on the porch as I make my daily jaunt to the mailbox at the end of my drive. I miss him waving at me and the girls as he watched us come and go from school to lessons to church to home to wherever else we may have been headed. I liked the fact that he was always there. He would just call periodically to check on us.

Soon, I am sure a relator will stake a sign in the yard. In our housing market, I know it won't be long until someone else calls his house home. I pray for good neighbors. I pray that if the new owners don't know the Lord, that the Lord would use us to help them become acquainted with Him.

But, as far as I am concerned, that house will always be Mr. McNantz's. I rejoice that he is no longer lonely and has been reunited with his bride. His physical pain has ended. His faith has been made sight.

When my mind wonders to thoughts of this dear man, I take courage knowing that - the house across the street may be empty for now, but I know our neighbor is most-definitely home.

The house, neighborhood, city, state and country I proudly claim and call "home" really isn't either. My home is where Mr. McNantz is now. His empty house is also a good reminder to me of the temporary status of my citizenship of this world and that the promises of what is to come is real.

Who knew that I could gain insight from the empty house across the street? Thank you God for the sweet lessons and gentle reminders in the smallest of things. . .