Accolade and Applause

Why does our flesh crave attention so much?  Why is pride such a stumbling block?  Why do we cry out to be seen and heard?  Haven't we all at some point in our lives been star struck?  Haven't we all wanted to be like someone else?  Haven't we all wanted to be known?  Why do we post all those pictures and videos of ourselves on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram?  Are we seeking notoriety of some sort?  What drives us to work hard at our craft or talent?  Why do we label those who don't crave the spotlight as odd, weird or eccentric?

I know that at some point in my life I have been guilty of all of the above.  I have had false hope in myself and my abilities on way too many occasions.  Too often I have taken the credit for something that I alone could never do.  Honestly,  though I would like to, I can't even take credit for anything good in my girls.  While 3 of them grew in my womb, I was not the one who formed them.  If I have ever offered them any good advice or have given them good instruction, even that came from God.  So while it's easy for me to rob God of His glory, in the end I must admit that there is nothing good in me unless by His will He put it there.

God makes us.  God gifts us.  All talent, wisdom and strength come from Him.  We are His creation for His pleasure.  We may work really hard to develop our talents, but in doing that, are we working for His glory or our own?  Are we using the talents He has supplied in us for His cause or our own?   "A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven." John 3:27.  Too many of us believe the lie that our lives belong to us to do with as we choose.  We live in the here and now and give no thought to our eternal purpose.  This does not just apply to the lost either.  There are many who are serving in the church all over the world who struggle with the same issue.

I don't have the answers to all the questions I've asked and probably never will in my time on earth.   I guess I don't really need to know all the answers as long as I know THE ONE who has all the answers.  Today I'm asking God to help me to serve with humility and grace and to cast out arrogance and pride.  I need Him to remind me at every moment to whom I belong.  I want Him to fill me with adoration of who He is in me and then let the "me" fade away so that all that is left to be seen is HIM!  Maybe it's time to sit courageously quiet on the back row and be the odd, weird or eccentric one.

"He must increase, but I must decrease."  John 3:30

Coming Fast and Passing Slow

Life sometimes takes us by storm.  It blows in on us like the West Texas sandstorm that barraged us this week with 60 mph winds that ripped off roofs, downed lines and trees and covered highways and houses (yes houses) with blowing tumbleweeds.  It often leaves behind a mess to deal with just like my garage that was full of leaves that blew in and sand that made its way into every window and door of our home.  I swept up the leaves, vacuumed up the dirt and washed the car.  While the dust is still settling from that storm I know that as we enter the month of March, there is a promise of more wind on the horizon.  Very soon I will need to once again, sweep up the leaves, wash the car and vacuum up the dust and dirt.  It's just what we do around here this time of year.  What takes nature minutes to do, takes us days to clean up.  I find that life is a lot like that lately.  It comes too fast and it passes too slow.

"Mom, I'm pregnant."  In the time it took to Melanie to breathe those words out, life as I knew it changed.  My thoughts raced ahead as I chased after them futilely trying to just be in the moment.  Sometimes the words "do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself", totally escape my mind.  I start trying to solve all the problems before they even take form.  The information of new life on the way came at me fast but the 9 months it actually takes that life to arrive is SO slow.

"May I marry your daughter?"  That one question took Thomas mere seconds to ask but once again life as I knew it has changed.  Thomas and Lauren will be marrying in what we consider a relatively short amount of time to plan a wedding.  After the proposal we shifted into an unknown gear that I'm sure is only available on the space shuttle.  Securing the church, the reception venue, and the date became an urgent task.  The dress is ordered and as it turns out in the nick of time.  We've viewed wedding invitations and discussed music.  We've worked on menus, talked to photographers and discussed  flowers and decorations.  It's an exciting time but I know that once the initial flurry slows it will pass slow as we wait for the day.

Dad has cancer.  Oh no!  Not the "C" word again.  Our lives were rocked 14 years ago with my diagnosis.  Hearing those words sort of makes everything shift into slow motion.  If you've ever walked that path you know exactly what I mean.  You wait for the diagnosis, you wait for the next appointment, you wait for the next test, you wait for surgery, you wait for the sickness to subside, you wait to feel better, you wait, and wait and wait.  Your life changes in an instant.  Gary's dad's news came at us fast but the treatment and recovery will pass slow for us all.

Yes, life comes at us fast.  Sometimes it brings joy and excitement and sometimes it brings anxiety and fear of the unknown.  I am thankful that I walk by faith and not by sight.  I am thankful that God goes before us and will never leave us nor forsake us.  I am thankful for a God who sees me and loves me and will tend to my every need.  I'm thankful that I have the courage to face tomorrow because my savior lives!  Let the storm howl and the dust choke out the sunlight.  Let the moments that change my life flash with the speed of lightening and rage with untold fury.  Let each day tick by slowly as I seek His will and sweep away the doubt and fear.  Come at me fast and pass slow.  With dust pan in hand, I'm standing on the ROCK!

I have set the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.  

                                                                                                                               Psalm 16:8

My inspiration and loves!

Lauren Elizabeth, Crystal, Lindsay, Emily, Melanie, Lauren Beth

Listen

Anyone with children can tell you that there are those moments that just completely exasperate you.
Questions like, "Did you pick up your room like I asked you to do?", "Did you brush your teeth?" and
"Where are your shoes that I asked you three times to put on?" are met with a roll of the eyes or an, "I forgot.", or the ever popular, "I didn't hear you.".   How about when they not only roll their eyes but also stomp off grumbling.  You stand there looking at them wondering why they can't just listen and obey.  What is it that makes them just tune you out?

When Melanie was young I was at my wits end.  She never listened to me.  She required numerous requests to get her to do even the smallest of tasks.  She was such a cute and happy little girl but she never paid attention to anything I said.  After her older sister Crystal was diagnosed with dyslexia, I worried that Melanie may also have it.  She was having some problems in PreK completing tasks.  Dreading what they would find, I courageously had Melanie tested.  I wasn't sure I was up to the extra stress and tears of another child with a learning disability.  She was diagnosed with "audio discrepancy".  This is a big name for what is the inability to focus on more than one task at a time.  She was unable to process more than one request and if she was watching TV or engaged in something else I could just forget about her hearing anything I said.  That's right moms and dads, there is actually a name for some of those annoyingly disobedient brats, uhmmm I mean precious little children who never seem to obey the first time.  So after some therapy to retrain her processing and for me to learn how to make my requests so they were heard and understood my wits were saved.

Now, snap forward with me to present day.  The tables have turned and now it's me driving someone close to their wits end.
"What do you mean we are going out of town this week?!"
"You have a meeting tonight?"
"We have dinner plans tomorrow?" I spout out my questions with astonished tone and disbelief.  My questions are met with the same answers once again from my oh so patient and loving husband.
"Honey, I told you that."
"Yes, we discussed it."
"You know you never listen to me."
I would like to claim that I have audio discrepancy myself but I'm not sure he would buy it.  Do you think you can get it when you are an adult?  No, I must sadly concede to the fact that I just do not pay attention sometimes when he is talking to me.  Yes, poor Gary is quiet witless now thanks to me.

It's not that I don't want to listen to him.  I do hear him but I just don't really listen to all that he has to say.  Frankly, he goes into WAY too much detail sometimes for me.  For instance, I ask, "How was your golf game today Babe?"  He answers eager to share ALL about it, "On hole one I shot a par.  On hole two I hit my driver a little left and out about 20 yards from the green.  Chipped that up with my wedge and then putted in for a birdie.  I was out of bounds on hole 6 but managed to save par." And so it goes for most of the 18 holes.  How does he remember all those details?  Good grief, I just wanted to know what his blooming score was.  Spare me all the intricate details please.  All I really "listen" to is the final score most of the time anyway.

Sadly I often find my relationship with God to be the same.  I know His voice.  I want to listen.  I really, really do.  I want to know what He expects from me and what His next plan for me is.  Some days I find myself a bit too busy with my own agenda and what I am already doing than to really be still and listen to what He has planned for me.  Somedays I hear him but I'm not really listening to the details.  Thankfully, like Gary, God is very patient with me and my inattentive ways.  He loves me more than I can begin to imagine.  He keeps pressing in with the details of my life regardless of my need for a hearing aid.  He longs to lead me through every day if I will listen and obey. He longs to do for me more than I can ever hope or imagine.

So forgive me Father for our one-sided conversations and please help me to be a more attentive listener!
Oh, and if you would be so kind as to help me later today while I listen to Gary's details of today's golf game, well, that would be great!  Amen

"My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me."  John 10:27

Is it Really Enough?

Do you always engage when you are singing praise songs?  Do you really listen to the words and take them to heart every time you are singing them?  Do you really mean those words?  I would like to think that I do, but the truth is, I don't always.  Sometimes I sing along just because I like the tune or I've sung it a hundred times and I simply like singing it.  Honestly, sometimes I'm not truly worshipping when I'm singing at church.  Yes, I'm letting the cat out of the bag.  Sometimes  I am just a clanging gong in the Lord's ear and it has little to do with my aging vocal ability.  My mind often wonders and I don't always take to heart the words that I'm proclaiming at the top of my lungs.  


Another confession...I like to raise my hands when I'm praising.  Label me charismatic if that's not your thing.  It's fine by me.  Yes, I'm one of "THOSE people".  There were times when you couldn't have pried my hands from the back of the pew in front of me let alone get me to lift them in praise.  I've matured a bit since then and learned that we all praise differently.  I can't see me playing the tambourine anytime soon but I did do a great deal of dancing in Africa and Guatemala when I went to church there.  Maybe it was just a bit of the old saying, "When in Rome".  Truth be told though, I kinda liked it!  I've decided there is nothing wrong with being exuberant when we praise.   


Last month I was struck by a phrase in a praise song.   This particular time I was truly engaged in the words of the songs I was singing.  The overwhelming theme of two of the songs was God's love for us.  I'm singing along to a song I know I've sung at least 100 times and fully agreeing with every word out of my mouth when all the sudden, I felt a deep sense of sadness.  I'm joyfully proclaiming that the riches of Your love will always be enough, when I become painfully aware that not everyone can sing those words and mean them.  I'm also aware that there have been many times in my own life when those words were not true for me either.  


Is it really enough?  We sing about God's love being all we need but do we live our lives every day as though we truly believe what our lips are professing?  What about when we are alone or lonely?  What about when we have been cast out or abandoned?  What about when we feel utter desperation or fear?  What about when we feel defeated or cheated?  What about when we feel wronged?  What about when we get a diagnosis that shakes us to the core?  Do we believe with all our heart in those moments that God's love is enough?


We may not always believe it but it is true.  God's love is enough!  It can break through any barrier and through the blackest night.  It can cover over a multitude of sins.  It gives us hope when we have none.  In God's love we find our freedom.  We find courage to believe.  In God's love we even find the courage to believe that His love is enough.  


The bible says love never fails.  This means, it never stops, it is never insufficient, it never disappoints, it is never undependable, and it never falls short.  That sounds like it's enough for me!  


Gosh, I'm in the mood now to go do some praising.  If only I had a tambourine!  Hmm....














  

Pick Me

Crystal 

When my oldest daughter Crystal was 6 years old she was selected to have the lead role in the annual dance recital at a studio where she took dance.  There was no audition for the part.  She happened to be the proper age, cute as a bug and a good little dancer.  She was always in class on time, with proper attire and worked hard to learn new steps.  As a mommy I can tell you that I was very excited for this opportunity for her to shine.  Or was it really about her at all?

As a parent don't we always want our children to shine?  We want them to be the star.   To be the best at whatever sport they choose.  To be picked first on the red rover team.  Somehow this seems to make us look much cooler as their parent.  It is much the same as being picked ourselves.  We cheer loudly from the stands when they score the point or make the block or spell the word correctly.  We want everyone to know they belong to us.  "Yes, they are great because of the genes I contributed!" silently rolls around in our heads.

From the time we are young we have this inborn desire to not be left out. We want to be picked.  We want to be chosen to be on the team.  We want to be the one who scores the winning point.  We want the lead role.  We want to be the star.  Evidence of this desire seems to explains the YouTube explosion, the popularity of American Idol and also the hundreds of reality TV shows.  Don't we all secretly want to be a star, if only for a moment?

Do you ever wish that God would pick you to do something amazing like the saints from the bible?  Do you ever wish you were like Moses or Paul?  Or how about being chosen to be the mother of the Christ?  I must confess that sometimes when I'm reading the bible I wish I was picked to do something great.  Now my thoughts are of course based on my own selfish desire to "just be picked".  When I really stop to consider what that means I'm not so sure I'm quite as willing to raise my hand.

Those picked for what we consider the "big jobs", suffered!  They suffered in ways that my mind can not even begin to comprehend.  Moses was picked.  He wondered around in the desert for 40 years kicking sand with a group of ungrateful comrades.  Mary was picked but had to watch her son suffer being brutally beaten and then executed.  Or how about John the Baptist who was picked before birth and was later beheaded.  Then there were all the apostles who were picked but were also, drug by horses, stoned, clubbed, thrown off buildings, shot with arrows, boiled in oil, thrown into prisons, exiled and numerous other forms of torture and execution.  Being picked by God isn't quiet as glamourous as being picked to be the next American Idol.  Sometimes being picked means being worthy of suffering.

"All this is evidence that God's judgment is right, and as a result you will be counted worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you are suffering."  2 Thessalonians 1:5


Like 6 year old Crystal, they did not audition for the part.  They were simply picked by God and were faithful to fulfill the role that He prepared for them even though it brought them hardship.  In reality we all have been picked by God.  We were born to serve God and to do good works.  No role is too small in His kingdom.  Whether we are the most notable saint is of little importance to God as long as we are faithful in the role He has chosen for us.

"For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."  Ephesians 2:10


So although I may never be remembered for what I consider the "big jobs",  may I be found faithful and courageous in fulfilling the works that God has picked me for and may I remember that in God's eyes I am great!

"Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist;  yet whoever is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he."  Matthew 11:11

What's With Men

This really is not a thought provoking post but simply me observing men and their behavior.  I've been surrounded by girls for years and now that I'm spending more time with son-in-laws and boyfriends I find myself a bit baffled.

This past weekend we attended a wedding in Ft. Worth.  Lauren Elizabeth was doing wedding stuff with the wedding party so Thomas, her boyfriend, was hanging out with Gary and I.  We were going to meet our youngest 2 girls and a friend for lunch and as usual they were running a bit late so we headed on over to the restaurant and waited for them to arrive.  The guys were sitting there talking about sports and spouting out facts from numerous games, players and seasons.  Now these facts were not confined to just one sport.  They seemed to know a little bit of what I deem as useless knowledge about golf, basketball, baseball and football.  I sat there wishing the girls would hurry so we could discuss something more interesting and I wouldn't be so bored.  Then I started thinking about all the times Gary has patiently sat and listened to us chatter about things he could care less about and was just happy to spend time with us.  So I told myself to just sit there quietly and be happy for him to have a guy around for a change.

What is it about men that allows their brains to retain these facts from the time they are young boys.  Why do they care who has the all time record for batting?  And why is it that they all seem to know it?  Just when I think one of them will be stumped, I'm amazed.  If one of them doesn't know or remember the year something happened, they start collaborating and somehow, through the process of elimination, they figure it all out and then can even tell you what field they played on and what time of day it was!  As if that isn't enough, Gary can tell you every club he hit on every hole and where it landed after a round of golf.  I can't even keep track of how many strokes I had per hole.  How do they do this?

I hang out with Gary and his guy friends a lot.  I'm attaching a video I made after one of our trips to my mom's place in Cloudcroft, New Mexico where they were doing a bit of maintenance work for her.  After the mishap you will see in the video Gary's only concern was as to whether or not he needed stitches because we needed to leave immediately if he did so we would not be late for our tee time.  Who thinks like that?  Men are just odd!

So maybe I don't really want to know the answer to my queries.  I am not sure my courage is to that level yet.  So I will just watch and listen and stay amazed by these odd but wonderful guys in my life.

Gone But Not Forgotten

Dust Devil

On March 27, 2009 I posted the blog which I have added below.  I was just beginning to experiment with blogging.   The site isn't available anymore but I am able to access my old blogs.  The day I wrote this my emotions were swirling like a plastic grocery bag caught up in a West Texas dust devil.  (For those of you on the other side of the globe, the photo on the right is to help clarify "dust devil")  Thanks to some wonderful counseling from my sweet friend Jay I made it through a really tough few weeks.  The words below are all still true but they don't sting nearly as much today as they did then.





My Daddy died last Sunday.  The memories are bitter sweet.  As a little girl I couldn’t have loved my daddy more. As a teenager there was disappointment.  As a young woman a glimmer of hope which was shadowed again with more disappointment.  Now I’m 50 and I loved my daddy and I will miss him but I’m left with feelings that I don’t know what to do with.  He loved BIG.  He was human and he failed at much just like the rest of us.  He loved the Lord and for that I am grateful.  I know I will see him in heaven.  In death as in life he left me wanting just a little more of him for me.  I miss my daddy but then I have missed him for most of my life.  Unanswered questions but God knows and I trust in His healing power which I carry within me. 

The healing power of God is a mighty thing.  Yes time helps to ease the pain of loss but God is the "Great Physician" and he alone can heal all our hurts.  I carried around hurt for a long time and locked it away so carefully that even I had forgotten where I had placed it.  When my daddy was gone the box opened and the hurt and anger came spilling out.  God took all of that away and now all that remains is love.  Love for a man who tried his best.  Love for the man that God chose to be my daddy.   Love for a God who ALWAYS gets it right.

Scarred for Life

I have a new scar.  I had two skin cancers removed from my face and now I have a one and a quarter inch scar next to my nose.  From tiny puncture wounds, chicken pox marks, and stitched up eyebrows, to the classic split chin, some scars are visible for all to see even though they fade a bit with time.  Maybe you have emotional scars which are very real but more easily disguised.  Seen and unseen they are the remnant reminders of wounds from our past.  Do you have a favorite scar?  Like the characters from the movie "Jaws", we roll up our sleeves and pant legs to display them and tell the often gruesome details of how we acquired them.  We wear some of our visible ones like a badge of honor and the not so visible ones we often conceal with guilt and shame.  The question, "How did you get that scar?", opens the door for us to share a moment of our history which has left us with a constant reminder.

My first scar of memory is on my right knee.  I acquired it at a rodeo when I fell on a nail sticking up out of a wooden step.  I can not remember the actual occurrence very well, but I do remember the sterile emergency room and the septic smells.  I remember the can they put under my knee to catch the soapy water they used to wash the gash.  Oh, and lots of tears!  That scar is still very visible today.  I also have a scar on my forehead from a biking incident where my brother was giving me a ride and I fell off.  I have no memory of this at all but I've been told my brother carried me unconscious into the beauty shop where my mom was getting her weekly hairdo and she took me to the emergency room in curlers and cape.  A small star shaped scar on my upper lip was the result of a pillow fight with my other brother.  He swung a bit too high and knocked the shade off the ceiling light which hit the wall and showered me with glass.  Many more scars have left their mark on my body through the years including several surgical scars.  Some are hidden by hair or clothing but each one is a reminder that I survived a small or large crisis when they were formed.

What about the scars that you can't see at all?  These scars are often left by abuse, neglect, betrayal, abandonment, or deception.  It could be as simple as an unkind remark or a word of discouragement that is never forgotten to being abused by someone we trusted.  Maybe divorce shattered our life as a child or as an adult.  Maybe someone we loved betrayed us.  The pain is sometimes worse and longer lasting when these scars are formed.  They may happen in an instant or over days, weeks, months and years.  They may be of our own making or inflicted upon us by another.  Regardless of how the wound was made it left a scar that is just as real although not visible.

Scarred for life!  We've all heard those words at some point in time.  They often carry with them a negative connotation.  For me they are simply a reminder that I'm alive and I have survived.  I survived the swing set falling on my head.  I survived accidents.  I survived abuse.  I survived divorce as a child and as an adult.  I survived cancer.  I survived surgeries.  I survived losses.  I survived betrayals.  I bear the scars but I survived.

It takes strength and courage to survive all the wounds that life inflicts.  My survival is not a source of pride or a badge of honor, for my survival was not accomplished alone.  Alone I am weak.  My strength comes from the one who was truly "Scarred for Life."  Jesus was scarred for my life.  His wounds are the wounds that truly heal and give eternal life to us all.  Those life giving scars give us all hope. "Hope for tomorrow and strength for today", as the old hymn goes.

As I fret over this newest scar on my face hoping it will continue to fade,  I pray that I will allow it to be a constant reminder to me that the maker of the universe loves me enough to be scarred for my life!


"He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities;  the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed."         Isaiah 53:5

The Battle Within

I'm far from a poet but I wrote this the other day and I'm following up my post from earlier in the week with it.  So for all you literary types or English professionals you will have to overlook any rhythm missteps.  I just write it down as it comes to me and it isn't always pretty!  My senior English teacher, Miss Morgan would roll over if she saw some of the stuff I've posted.  So apologies to her.  She did try her best to educate me.

The battle is raging though my eyes cannot see
My mind keeps on screaming, "Let me be free!"
Flee from my memory and remind me no more
Stop standing and waiting crouched at my door


Long ago demons I thought were at rest
The struggle is frequent and unrelenting at best
They stir up my memories and mess with my mind
They spin me in circles and leave my eyes blind


Like a heavy black fog they creep into my dreams
Though I try to call out they silence my screams
They lurk in the scents and the tunes of my past
They cling and they claw with a grip that's so vast


So once again in full armor I struggle to stand
I draw out my sword and with bible in hand
I face down my enemy and retreat no more
I press ever forward and shout from my door


"That is not who I am or forever will be.
That is simply the old and the worst part of me!
God Cleansed me and gave me a robe of pure white.
His grace gives me freedom to fight the good fight."

Conjuring Up Fear

I wish that as a child I had understood that God was always with me.  I was told that God was everywhere but all that meant to me was that he knew if I was being bad because he could see me no matter where I was or what I was doing.  Got to love that guilt placed on me and countless other children in catechism classes.  My big confession each week before communion was that I fought with my sister.  The priest finally got so tired of hearing the same thing week after week that he told my parents my sister and I could skip confessing that one so that other people could have a turn.  Seems the penance for that infraction was to spend some time on your knees in a corner.  I'm not so sure my time counted though since I vaguely remember the whole time I was on my knees I was praying for my sister to be nicer!

When I was little I was terrified of the dark.  I was afraid of vampires long before they were cool and werewolves before they had six pack abs.   I was afraid of ghosts, devils, dogs that barked at me, whatever might be under the bed waiting to attack me and the mean old lady that sat on her porch between me and my friend's house down the street.  I hated to be alone.  It was of no comfort to me that God was everywhere.  My experiences with fear helped me to be much more understanding when our girls faced childhood fears of their own.

When Melanie was little she was always afraid to go anywhere by herself.  She never wanted to ask the lady at the cash register for change or make a trip to the bathroom by herself.  Thankfully Melanie had her cousin Ellen, who was a bit more bold, to go most everywhere with her all the way into adulthood.  Her sisters got a little tired of her overactive imagination but Ellen was her rock and let her stand in her shadow all the way to countless bathrooms and to face down the scary people waiting to take her order at the ice cream counter.  Melanie is a bit more bold today but definitely not an extrovert.

Now Lindsay was another story.  Lindsay is the middle child of the second set of three girls.  Lindsay was afraid to go to bed and her prayer each night for years was, "God bless everyone in the whole world except bad men and the devil. Amen."  She use to build a pillow and stuffed animal wall all around herself each night with precision.  I called it her fortress.  She would sleep snuggly in her little cushy cocoon while whoever slept with her complained that all her animals were taking up the whole bed.  The night light never seemed to be enough and she always wanted another light on.  This was also met with sibling complaints of having to sleep in the daylight.  I think that sometimes nights seemed eternal for Lindsay.  She was always the last to go to sleep and I truly did feel her pain.  Today she is still the last one to go to sleep.  Some habits are hard to break!

Today I try to deal with my fear in a more proactive way instead of cowering under the covers.  A popular Christian song has a phrase in it taken from Romans 8:31, "And if our God is for us, nothing can ever stop us and if our God is with us, nothing can stand against".  I love that line of the song.  What a powerful truth and freedom is in those few words.  Not even the worst fears we can conjure up can stand against God and that is comforting for me since I can conjure up some pretty scary stuff.  I've grown to realize that most of the battle is in my mind so it is important for me to fill my mind with the truth of God's word so that I can draw that double edged sword of His word whenever the need arises.

Here is a little something to sharpen your sword...
"The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you;  he will never leave you nor forsake you.  Do not be afraid;  Do not be discouraged."  Deuteronomy 31:8

Oh Those Funny Phases

Melanie 1987

     When my youngest daughter Melanie was 3, she was captured by a photographer one evening and her picture ended up on the front page of the local newspaper.  Sounds cute and fun doesn't it?  Well, it just so happened that during this period of her life she had a thing for her cowboy boots.  She wore them with everything.  This day she was sporting them with her cute little shorts outfit and no they did not match!!  Not only that but they were on the wrong feet and her hair was a mess. (mostly due to a phase of cutting her own bangs to the scaIp)  I know, I know what could be worse!  Amazing how she still looked precious and no one seemed to think I was a terrible mother.
     Little did I know at the time that this was the first of several of Melanie's quirky fashion statements.  The next one came along when she was around 5 or 6 years old.  She would spend the day dressed in an old maroon nightgown that had been her grandmother's and some size 4 high heels that had been her great grandmother's.  Anytime we needed to go somewhere I would have to get her to change and as soon as we got home she was back in her "special" gown.  I'm not sure how long this lasted but it seemed like forever.
     Next came the roller blade stage.  The downstairs of our house had mexican tile and the stairs were carpeted.  She wore roller blades from dawn till dusk and she would run up and down the stairs in them and hit the tiles full speed ahead.  Those days it was sort of like living in a roller derby rink.  I know, I know, I should've banned them in the house but we choose our battles and after all she WAS the baby.
     If you ever saw the movie "Mr. Mom" you will remember the flannel shirt scene where Mrs. Mom tells Mr. Mom that his shirt needs to go into the dry cleaner hall of fame.  Well, our little Melanie had one of those shirts too.  Her sister Lauren was way into fashion at an early age and I think she still shudders when she thinks of that flannel shirt.  Melanie was more into comfort and she loved her flannel shirt.  I'm pretty sure she wore it 4 out of 7 days a week for close to a year.  I know, I know I could've just hid it but then who could bear to see the panic on her face if she couldn't find it.  Okay, I admit that in all these phases I guess I just didn't have the courage to make her unhappy over something that I was sure would pass with time.  Lucky for us that no permanent damage was done because today she seldom wears flannel and I haven't seen her in roller blades in years but she does still have some cowboy boots she wears on occasion.  

Looking for Lions

Deuce Jordan is ready for bed!

     
Speaking of present day... Guess who's little man wears his cowboy boots every day?  Guess who's little man insists on wearing his belt even with his pajamas?  Guess who's little man wears a dirty, beat up black felt cowboy hat everywhere they go?  I bet you   can guess who is sitting back and enjoying the show!     
    
 I love the way God loves us!  He can bring laughter to our lives from what seemed to be a bit of a struggle.  He lets us remember it with humor and not the frustration we felt at the time.  I'm sure He gets frustrated with our phases too but for some reason I kinda suspect that he looks back on some of it with laughter.  If it's all the same to Him though, I hope He never blogs about any of my phases.  We can laugh about those together someday in private, thank you very much! 

Man verses Malls

     Like much of the rest of the nation, we were hit pretty hard the past few weeks with frigid, icy, conditions.  Gary and I made a planned trip to the Dallas area and got to spend some time with two of our girls.  The roads were so bad that Emily didn't have school and Lauren was working from home so we were actually able to get to see them a bit more than usual.  We braved the roads with some other obviously not so timid drivers and headed to the only logical place to hang out.  THE MALL!  I'm sure Gary would've had some other suggestions for us but after dealing with 7 women for years now, he knows that he would be outnumbered and outvoted.
     Gary has become a master of the shopping malls, shopping centers and outlets around Texas.  He can get us to one pretty much anywhere in the state with expert precision and can even remember exactly where our favorite stores are located once we arrive.  He patiently paces around, stands outside, carries our bags, visits the massage chairs when available and texts us asking, "R u really still in the same store? Where r we eating?  Meet me in 10?".
     Now this has pretty much been our routine for years but I seemed to notice a slight change up this past trip.  Lauren and Emily's boyfriends came along.  Uh oh!  The teams were now even at 3 and 3.  The scene was set for a shakeup.  Normally our dinner conversations revolve around whatever the girls have been doing lately or which store we are visiting next, what items we need to still purchase, and whether we want to go back and get that really cute pair of shoes or keep looking.  Pretty much the only sports we discuss is our shopping game plan.  This night however, there was a ball loose on the fashion runway.  In the middle of a very animated discussion between Emily and Lauren about how the people on "The Bachelor" get to keep their entire wardrobe and how much they are allotted for shopping, Thomas throws a "Hail Mary" pass with, "So who do you think is going to win the Super Bowl?"  LOOKOUT!!!   Emily trips over the loose ball on the runway and loses control of the conversation.  Could this be the beginning of the end of our domineering reign over all things female?  Did someone just seriously mention something unrelated to fashion?  As if in slow motion I watched Blake block the girls as Gary caught Thomas's pass and I laughed on the sidelines and commented on Thomas's very well timed conversion tactic.  His grin said it all.
     Now Gary wasn't too crazy about the idea of the his girls starting to have men in their lives other than him, but my guess is that he is beginning to see that it might not be so bad after all.  I'm also guessing we are going to be carrying our own shopping bags more often in the future.  For the time being though, I'm thankful that I  have a great husband and they have a wonderful daddy who loves us enough to courageously battle the crowds of any mall, fight for the closest parking spots and bravely go where no man should go alone!
    

The Strange Change - A Mother Story

My mom went out last night with a friend.  Now you might be thinking, "Well isn't that nice."  Just let me say that her going out started an evening of head spinning emotions for my sister, my husband and I.
I'll begin by telling you a bit about my mom so you can understand the situation fully.  Mom is 84 years old and lives by herself in a tiny little town in New Mexico.  She drives to another town about 40 minutes away every Thursday to get her hair done and do her weekly shopping.  This has been her routine for many years.  Mom learned to drive as an adult and while not the greatest driver in the world she is a cautious driver and does very well, umm unless you count when she drove into the cement blockade in front of her local Town and Country one morning.  That's another story.

Mom gets up every morning around 4 AM and starts her daily routine of cleaning or working in her yard, maybe cooking or baking something for an ailing friend, and then going to the Senior Center to eat lunch with her friends.  In the afternoon she may go play games with her friends, take someone to the doctor or just piddle around her house and then catch the evening news.  She is usually ready for bed by 7 PM at the latest and always falls asleep watching one of her shows on TV.

On Thursdays I generally call her in the late afternoon or evening to see how her trip to the beauty shop went.  Now I do realize they are called "salons" nowadays but to Mom it is and always will be the "beauty shop".  Last night I went to my granddaughter's soccer game so I didn't call until around 7:30 PM to check in with her.  No answer.  Thinking she might be in the bath I wait 30 minutes and call again.  Still no answer so I leave a message stating that I'm wondering where she is and to call me when she gets in.  I hang up and call her cell phone which I have finally convinced her to leave on when she is away from the house.  I don't even bother to leave a message there because although I have showed her numerous times how to retrieve the messages, she still can't seem to do it.  I'm mildly worried at this point but not alarmed.  I call both phones every 30 minutes for the next 3 hours.  Around 9 PM I texted my sister to see if she spoke with her and knew something I didn't concerning her whereabouts.  She doesn't.  Now we are both worrying and I've involved my husband also who is a bit upset with her for making us all worry.   By 10:15 PM my sister and I are frantically searching for phone numbers of friends and neighbors.  She was on the internet and I was digging through drawers.  Finally she decides to get in the car and drive to New Mexico.  I'm still digging and my husband continues the internet search with any name  I can think of.  At last we locate a number and I phone her friend.   She of course hasn't spoke with her all day and knowing how my mom loves to go to bed early and hates the cold, she says she will make some calls and head over to her house and call me back.  I call my sister and tell her to wait a few minutes before she leaves town.   The friend calls back in 5 minutes and has located her.  Seems she and her neighbor are at the Senior Center listening to a country western band.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????  My mom is out on the town and has missed her curfew that I have self appointed her and she has not even had the courtesy to call me and ask my permission to be out late.
Furthermore, why did she not have that cell phone we bought her handy?  She should have at least let me know she made it home from the beauty shop.  Here I am pacing the floors thinking she could be lying in a ditch or unconscious somewhere and she's out partying with her friends.  Boy is she in trouble when she gets home!

Whoa there Donna.  Take a deep breath and relax.  She is OK.  Did she not offer you grace on a few occasions when you wrecked your car, came in a bit late, forgot to call and tell her you were going to a friends after school?

The phone rings a little before 11 PM and a timid little voice starts making all the excuses she can think of.  She feels bad for worrying us and I agree that the loud music probably made it impossible to hear her phone that was stuffed inside her purse.  "No Mother, it's not broken it works fine you just didn't hear it."
I listen patiently as she tells me how her friend begged her to get dressed and go with her.  (Yeah that's a good one I've used before.)   Oh and the ever classic, "I was with her and didn't have a way home.  I told her I wanted to leave an hour ago."  (Whatever!)

My daughter Crystal with her Nannie Retta

Wait a minute.  At what point in my life did I stop being the child and become the parent of my mom.  Was all that child raising just practice for this time of life.  Watching your parents age is a difficult thing.    I'm sure it is strange for my mom to watch me begin to age also.  She is convinced that I have more wrinkles than her and that she is healthier than I ever thought about being.  She could be right on both counts.  I'm blessed to still have her in my life and if she worries me sometime then I will count that a blessing too.  I didn't have the heart to scold her when it came down to it last night but I'm thinking she won't be doing that again.  I could be wrong.  I seem to remember thinking my daughters wouldn't do stuff again either.  LORD give me courage!!!

You Don't Know What You're Asking

For the past few weeks I have been digging through old photos and family history.  I have traced part of my family back to the year 1000.  Let me tell you right now that when you go digging through the past you better be prepared for a few surprises.  Some surprises are fun and some I would just as soon have never known.  One of my ancestors escorted Jeanne d'Arc (Joan of Arc) into town when her army arrived in 1428.  How cool is that?  There were Kings guards, noblemen, mayors, one was the founder of the Templars, duelers and some accused of theft, looting, extortion, rape, arson and murder but were later pardoned by the king.  My family actually ended up in the United States after one ancestor was forced to leave France after an "unfortunate duel and disastrous affairs" in 1789.  Not so cool!  Well...the dueling part sounds sort of cool.

My Grandfather on left in 1914.

I woke early on January 12, 2011 with family history on my mind.  I began praying for my family.  Now often when I pray silently my mind tends to wonder a bit.  But in this moment I was very focused and I was making my appeal to the Lord and then as if He were sitting right there listening He replied "You don't know what you're asking.".

I admit I was a bit confused and surprised by the quick response.  I started going through my list of questions to make sure my prayers weren't being hindered by my worldly view.  Was I asking the impossible?  No, the bible tells me nothing is impossible for God.  Was I being selfish in my request?  I honestly don't think so.  Would it change the course of my family history? Yes.  Would lives be changed for the good in the long run.  Absolutely.  So what do you do in this situation?  What do you do when you ask God for something and you don't get the response you had hoped for?

I've spent some time thinking about it and have come to the conclusion that for me, in this particular instance, God was telling me that He could do it but that I wouldn't be able to bear it.  Since He has promised not to give me more than I can bear, I will take comfort in knowing that He knows what is best for me.  I will ask God to help me pray in accordance with His will so that I  know that my prayers will be answered.  I will remember what my pastor Patrick Payton said in 2002, "Prayer is where my arguments for my will and my choices begin to cease and where I adjust and surrender to the purposes and plans of God.".  I will refine my request until it lines up with God's will.

I love that I can courageously go before the throne of grace and continue to plead my case to a loving Father who will tell me no when it's for my good and encourage me to dig deeper within myself to reconcile the answer.  No matter what the history records say, my Father is God.  I am His treasured child and when I depart this world and my records are entered for future generations, I pray that no matter what else is said of me, that what will stand out is that I was a Christ Follower and that my descendants true heritage lies in heaven.

Maintaining Regrets

Regrets.  We all have them.   We regret not spending more time with a loved one who has died.  We regret yelling at our spouse or our children.  We regret telling that lie or maybe we just regret not buying that cute pair of shoes the other day that would've matched the pants we are wearing today.  Life is full of regrets.  Some are a learning experience.  Some are sad and some are just downright annoying when they keep reminding us of our shortcomings.  So what do you do with all those regrets?  

Although maybe not so humorous at the time, I have one regret that makes me smile and sometimes laugh.  I regret not checking on Crystal and her cousin a little sooner the Sunday afternoon they completely covered themselves and the entire bathroom with powder.  Two little ghostly white 4 year olds stood in a cloud of powder surrounded by powdery tiles, tub, toilet, carpet and sink, peering at me with the only things not white in the room, two little brown eyes and two little blue eyes.  This regret was short lived but one that helped me to remember to check on them a little more frequently.  This one definitely falls in the learning experience category.  I also regret not snapping a picture of the scene which I would've scanned and included here for your amusement.


When is comes right down to it, I think many regrets are born out of sin.  Things we did that we wish we hadn't done or things that we didn't do out of selfishness that we wish we had done.  Things we have long ago repented of and asked forgiveness for but we can't quiet rid ourselves from the memory of them.  This thought hit home for me while listening to the song, "How He Loves" by David Crowder.  
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCunuL58odQ
A line from the song says, "I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way He loves us.  Oh how He loves us. How He loves us oh."  Is that what I've been doing?  Do I carefully maintain my regrets?  Do I allow them to distract me from the fact that I'm a forgiven child of God.  Do I hold on to them instead of living in freedom from them?  


With 6 girls you can bet that they all have things that they wish they had said or not said and done or not done.  As their mom/stepmom, I would never consider reminding them of those things.  I would never want them to continue to hang on to anything that might cause them pain.  I love them all too much to want them to hurt.  Doesn't the same thing apply to all of us.  God our Father would never want us to maintain our regrets and continue to hang on to them.  He loves us too much for that!  


It's hard to let them go.  It's hard to forget them but maybe the point isn't to forget them but just to learn from them.  I've found that it takes courage to trust someone enough to believe that they will not hold your regrets against you but sometimes it takes more courage to not hold them against yourself.  Love each other deeply because love covers over a multitude of sins. 1 Peter 4:8  


Maybe I should live in grace and maintain my sanity instead of my regrets!

The Wicked Stepmom

Lauren and Katie

When I was a little girl, "Cinderella" was one of my all time favorite children's stories.  I watched the Rodgers and Hammerstein version of it on TV and danced around singing the songs and imagining myself wearing the beautiful dress with all the dazzling sparkles.   Oh how grand it would be to be a princess!  ("In my own little corner, in my own little room, I can be whatever I want to be.") I'm rather amazed at this moment that I still remember the words to that song!  Go figure!  Childhood dreams seemed to disappear as I reached adolescence and were replace by more realistic aspirations. Maybe I'd just be a teacher.  After all, there isn't much of a demand for a princess in Texas anymore.  In all my dreaming and aspiring I am absolutely certain that I never once wanted to be the wicked stepmother in the story.  As fate would have it, all the princess jobs were taken and it was my lot in life to become, you guessed it, the stepmother.  


Now I've never considered myself wicked, but I use to worry about what my reaction would be when I heard the dreaded words, "You're not my mother!". If they ever thought it, they never said it and I'm eternally thankful to 3 step daughters that I never had to find out.  There are some things in life that we don't need reminded of as a step parent.  


When my step daughters were young I use to pray all the time that I would be a good step mom and that I would love them like they deserved to be loved.  For some people this may come naturally.  For me, it was a source of anxiety and self doubt.  Was I being fair?  Would I make the same decision if this was my own child?  Am I showing them enough love?  Did I spend enough time with them when they were here?  Could I ever possibly love them as much as I love my own daughters?  The list was long.  It's so much easier to fuss at your own children and then forget about it.  When you fuss at your step children you tend to keep thinking about it and trying to justify your position.  

A couple of Jokers!

My oldest step daughter Lauren Elizabeth turned 21 this year.  For her birthday Gary and I took her and her friend, Katie, to Las Vegas.  We had a great time and they loved the shopping, eating, site seeing, shows and yes, even a few slots.  It was a fun trip and we all had a blast.  


The girls flight left earlier than ours so I told them goodbye the night before and Gary got up and made sure they were headed to the airport on time.  We caught our flight a few hours later and they called to let us know they had landed.  They had a 2 hour drive from the airport back to college.  We got home and unpacked and then we got the call that no parent wants to ever get.  The girls were involved in an accident on the highway and were being transported by ambulance to a hospital in Austin.


A million questions racing through my mind all at once.  Some things too horrible to even verbalize.  Lauren's mom was already on the way to Austin.  We were debating what to do.
No flights out until morning and the drive would take us 6 hours.  The details were sketchy at best and we were unsure of their injuries.  I suggested calling the hospital and seeing if we could talk to someone in the emergency room.  When we got hold of the E.R. nurse the girls were still being evaluated and they said we could talk with Lauren if we called back in 15-20 minutes.  I retreated to my room and prayed.  When we finally got to talk to Lauren it was evident that she was very medicated.  She had no memory of what happened and still doesn't to this day.  We were told that she had non life threatening injuries and would be moved to a room when one was available.  Since we weren't Katie's parents we couldn't be told about her condition.  


11 o'clock at night with no hopes of seeing your child until the next morning is not when you want to hear that they are moving her to CCU because she has a possible brain injury.
I couldn't quit crying.  I wanted to be there to hold her and tell her it was all going to be OK.  Was she scared?  How much pain was she in?  Did she wonder where we were?  Did I kiss her goodbye the night before she left?  Suddenly the last haunting question that had plagued me for years was answered.  I do love her as much as I love my own girls.  It hurt just as bad as if she were my own flesh and blood.  I couldn't have been any more upset or any more worried.  She is a part of me even if I didn't give birth to her.


Lauren had a bruised liver brain and lungs, a cut on the back of her head, a broken pelvis and numerous other bruises and scrapes.  Katie required surgery to repair her broken arm and she also had a cut on the back of her head and numerous bruises and scrapes.  From the looks of the car it was nothing short of a miracle they survived.  Their seats appeared to be a cocoon where angels kept watch as the rest of the car smashed in around them.  The contents of their luggage exploded all around the countryside and Lauren's bible was found beside the passenger side door.  It was retrieved by the tow truck driver who did his best to gather all the belongings for the families of the victims.  He was surprised to learn that the occupants of the car were alive.  When Katie's dad asked him if he believed in God, he handed over the bible and said, "I do now."  


Being a stepmom takes courage.  Courage to love when you think you can't and courage to believe that God will supply what you lack.  Courage to let their mom be their mom and to find your place in their lives.  I'm thankful for a God who loves me enough to show me in the midst of such turmoil that He answered my prayer somewhere along the way and has now removed my doubt.  Isn't that just like HIM?

Becoming a More Beautiful You

My daughters Melanie and Lauren on the trip

Last summer my daughter Lauren saw some pictures posted by some missionary friends of ours and called me saying, "Mom, we have to go and help these people!"  So began the planning of my 4th trip to Guatemala.  Through those pictures God planted a desire in her heart.  A desire to go and share the love of Christ with them and hopefully meet some of their needs.  That was what she was able to tell the group of cold, wet dump site workers and dwellers that we encountered on a rainy day a few weeks ago in Chimaltenango, Guatemala.  


The first morning we were able to go to worship time at Gerizim school which is run by the Reynolds through His Appointed Time Ministry.  If you have never worshipped with a bunch of elementary school children who have little or nothing as far as comforts in their lives, it's something that I just could not explain to you here in words.  The raindrops were falling as we gathered outside under a covering and praised God for this blessed moment in time.

Maryorie with the Team
Our Team sponsors her financially at the school

Some of the children praying

Praying for one another.

By the time we left the school the gentle rain was turning into more of a downpour.
I can only tell you that it was by the grace of God that we even made it to the dump that day.  It was pouring rain and the dirt roads looked more like muddy rivers on the way up the  mountain.  Each time I was sure we would not make it through the next bad looking area somehow the wheels just kept on bouncing us closer to our destination.  We had prayed fervently for the rain to subside before we left the school but it soon became apparent that God was making sure we were serious about this portion of our mission.  Would we let the rain deter us or were we "all in"?  Well, I looked at the team and it was clear that these ladies were indeed ALL IN!!  They waded through the water and floating trash to a makeshift shelter where they endured heavy smoke and flies in order to share a message and our purpose.  They stood in the rain and distributed food, first aid kits and other items that we had acquired through financial donations.  A few of the young guys there seemed distracted and were laughing during some of the lesson.  When asked what they were giggling about they replied, "It's like Christmas!"  So what looked at first to be a lack of interest turned out to be an inability to contain their excitement.  In retrospect of this part of the mission I'm not sure how much of an impact we made on them, but I know that they made an indention on our hearts that will always be there.  To see them smile in the face of their adversity if only for a moment made the whole trip worthwhile.  Our time there was short but rewarding.

Buzzards

Dwelling

And more trash

Day two was our most planned for day.  This day was to be spent with a group of 10-16 year old young girls who we invited to come up to the Restoration Center where we were staying.  The city of Chimaltenango is known for its prostitution houses.  From the first time I went there I had a desire to reach out to young girls and hopefully touch this high risk group with the love of Christ.  So the day was titled "Becoming a More Beautiful You."

2 of our little beauties!

This day was sort of a Queen Esther day complete with a banquet for the girls.  First they did crafts and had their hair cut and fixed.  Their nails were polished and they were crowned with tiaras.  Now I can tell you that none of these beautiful girls needed any beauty treatments but neither did all the pretty girls rounded up for the king in the book of Esther.  The girls learned that being beautiful wasn't really about their outward beauty and that if they believed Jesus is King and they are daughters of God then they were indeed already a princess and that their actions should reflect that.  We had so much fun spoiling them and showering them with little gifts.  It was another day etched in our hearts and minds forever.

Sisters

Haircuts

The Team with all the girls.

Studying in their new bibles

Doing some crafts

Now day 3 fell on Sunday.  We were honored to be asked to give some testimonies in a local church that morning.  What a special time for us.  That afternoon we distributed food to some of the neediest people in the church and left bibles and other things for the pastor to dispense as he saw fit.  We also had supper served to these families and they heard more testimonies from our group.  They were a joy to worship with.  

Melanie gets a hug from a grateful family!

Some of the people enjoying their meal.

After months of planning and organizing the trip was coming to an end.  We accomplished all that was set before us but this hopefully is not where the story ends.  We may never know the lives that God chooses to change because we are obedient to His call.  I do know of 12 lives that will forever be changed though.  9 wonderful ladies and 2 daughters who said yes when I asked if they wanted to go on a mission to Guatemala.  What a wonderful display of courage as 11 brave souls trusted me to lead them to a 3rd world country and back without even the slightest hesitation.  Well honestly I guess they trusted God to get us there and back and I just went along to be bossy!