The Dance of the Devoted Daughter

Why being a stay at home mom (SAHM) is the hardest thing I've ever done

2010-05-24T10:49:00.003-05:00

I've been a SAHM for the last 8 years. While I've held some part time jobs in that time, they were all tailored to being available to kids. It is the hardest thing I've ever done. Here's why:

Noise. I really like quiet and kids aren't quiet. Even those few precious moments a day when they are asleep aren't truly quiet. Someone is up and down to go the bathroom. Someone has music playing and I have one that talks in her sleep.

Constancy. There are no breaks in the day when you are keeping up with three kids. Someone needs something almost all the time. Usually, all three need something at one time. My three year old can invent trouble in the blink of an eye and requires constant supervision. I would like a scheduled break in the day...30 minutes to eat, or even 5 minutes to go the bathroom all by myself.

Immediacy. I am someone who is slow to make a decision. Not always because I am hesitant or fearful but usually because I play everything through in my mind before I decide which way to go. When I decide what to eat for breakfast, it is because I have already planned lunch and dinner in my head. Kids do not allow that luxury. If someone is dangling upside from the fort, 6 feet off the ground, they need correction and help getting down immediately. When someone is strangling someone else with the wii-mote, instant reactions are required.

Competing information. There are a lot of people out there who think they know the one way to raise a child. And I've probably read their book. But the truth is that each of my kids is really different and requires a slightly different approach. One child is entirely motivated by a desire to please. Another could care less about pleasing us as long as she has physical affection. We are still trying to figure out what motivates the little one. But the point is all of those theories are really different about how to raise your kids and they often are in opposition to each other.

Playing. I'm a really serious person, admittedly too serious. I'm not good at playing. I wasn't even good at playing when I was a kid. Coming up with fun and being fun all the time wear me out. I'd really much rather read a book than play a game. I'd rather work in my garden than draw with sidewalk chalk. I find it exhausting to force myself into play.

Significance. I believe that raising my kids is really important. In fact, I believe that it is so important that it brings out my need to be perfect. I want to do it right. I love these kids so deeply that I desperatly want to raise them to be the amazing people that I see in them. While I struggle along, I worry about messing them up or doing something wrong. My perfectionism can be paralyzing at times when I am so afraid of doing the wrong thing that I do nothing at all.

Being a SAHM is certainly the most challenging thing I have ever done in my life. It requires skills that I don't possess and strengths that mystify me.

What about you? What is challenging to you about parenting?

Missional Church

2010-01-19T10:16:00.003-06:00

For the last 3 years, I have participated in conversation regarding the "Missional" church idea. At it's core, missional church is about engaging the world around the church for the intentional purpose of service. Missional church says that the church can no longer hide behind its walls or bury its head in the proverbial sand.

While I agree wholeheartedly that the church should be about engaging the world, I have long felt like some part of this idea didn't sit well with me. When you are part of a frenzy of new ideas and building momentum, it is hard to stop and name the misgiving. But, after 5 months of being introduced to and encouraged to practice contemplative prayer, those concerns have finally crystallized into words.

We are missing the heart.

Missional church, as I've seen it presented and defended, is all about action. It is motivated by our guilt at having ignored this call of Jesus for so long.

The heart of missional church should be that we have sat and listened to the heart of God and therefore been moved by God's love for the hurting and marginalized of our world. In other words, we have to formed to be like God in order to be motivated to bring God into the hurting people around us.

Too much of the missional conversation is all or nothing. "Your church is only missional if all you do minister to the poor." That sounds like Good Will to me, not the church. "Your church will die in 20 years of less if you don't go missional." Where in scripture do we encounter the idea tha that we are to live and react out of fear? Pendulum swing theology never fully captures the life of Christ being lived out in human beings. Instead, it reveals our deepest fear of fully surrendering the mysterious sovereignty of the One we claim to worship.

The truly missional church has spent time being formed into the image of Christ by being near the heart of God so that they are compelled by love and mercy to reach out to hurting people.

Have faith! God has sustained the church, in spite of it's many failings, for these many years in order to continue the mission of Redemption. I don't anticipate that nature changing any time soon.

Prayer for Christmas

2009-12-03T08:12:00.004-06:00

O Season of Light

Shine down on us

Reminding us of the Source of Light

Warming us with love.

O Season of Light

Shine among us

Reminding us of the Power of Light

Drawing us toward unity.

O Season of Light

Shine from within us

Reminding us of the Intimacy of Light

Driving out our darkness.

O Season of Light

Attract us with beauty

Blind us with tangible love

Engulf us with hope.

Remember

2009-10-06T10:08:00.004-05:00

Three years ago yesterday, I gave birth to our third child, a boy. He was and still is, precious! Bright, sweet, and empathetic. His favorite thing to do is sing with his daddy and that leaves my heart skipping a beat every Sunday morning. Caysson loves books, computers, and taking things apart. He can't live without his sisters' attention and will injure them to get it! He is a three year old boy and very good at it.

But three years ago yesterday, also began a difficult journey for me. Six weeks after Caysson was born, I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. Any credible physician will tell you that depression isn't caused by a single event but by pressure that builds over years and years to be triggered by an event. While I function every day and love my kids, I am still wrestling with the many pressures that exploded in the turmoil of hormones after giving birth.

I write this today as a declaration that I choose life: full, abundant, joyful life. Choosing life means that I choose to leave poisonous things out and welcome in life-giving activity. It means that I decide every day, many times in a day, this over that.

Choose life!

Hope

2009-09-14T13:41:00.002-05:00

I do not buy into the whole positive thinking mindset. In fact, I find most of it annoying. I am a realistic kind of person and I don't see how thinking better thoughts about a situation will change it. I think in color and I assign this kind of thinking a garish yellow. You know, the kind of color that burns itself into your eyeballs and gives you a headache.

So, when I was asked to spend some time thinking about hope as a Christian virtue, I really struggled. I couldn't seem to separate hope from positive thinking. I wasn't even sure that hope was a biblical concept, (Okay, now I can remember where that is...Galatians, James and a few other hundred places) and in the moment wasn't sure if hope should be pursued.

Now, I'm a step back from having the idea introduced again and wonder why my hope is so atrophied. Here are just a few quotes that have me thinking about and puzzling over this idea of hope:

"Hope is a positive and potent human faculty that must be distinguished from its dangerous sister, expectation, which steals us from the present and pushes us down the path of disappointment when things don't go our way."

"What oxygen is to the lungs, such is hope to the meaning of life."

"Everything that is done in the world is done by hope."

What about you? Does hope come easily for you? Or do you fight to be hopeful? What color is hope to you?

Remembering

2009-09-11T09:34:00.003-05:00

This is a day to remember. As a nation, we remember the lives that were lost. As individuals, we remember our involvement in that tragic day.

8 years ago, today, I woke up at 3am with a knot in my stomach. I was 8 weeks pregnant and headed to the doctor to look for a heartbeat at 9am. Just two short months before, I had miscarried at this point. I remember trying to pray but really just putting words to my worry as I laid in bed. I fell back asleep around 5:30am and woke with a start at 7:30. The doctors office was at least a 45 minute drive in Houston rush hour so I started racing around to get ready.

Chad and I were both so nervous that morning. We rushed around to get ready to leave- never turning on a radio or the TV. I tried to swallow some breakfast as we walked to the car. It hit my nervous stomach like a brick. As Chad was pulling out of the driveway, he turned on the radio, hoping to hear a traffic report soon.

Our favorite Christian radio station in Houston was KSBJ. As a song was just beginning, the announcer cut in with news of the first tower being struck in New York City. We looked at each other in shock. We kept listening and heard that an airliner had hit the tower. About the time that news came out, we were driving past Bush International Airport. Traffic would stop as planes came over the highway and resume again when the skies were clear.

When the news broke that the second tower had been hit, I remember telling Chad to pull over because I was going to throw up. Before we reached the doctor's office, the Pentagon was hit as well.

The doctor's office was full of nervous looking people huddled around a radio, as there was no TV in the room. The nurse called us back and prepped me for a sonogram. Outside the room, I could hear the nurses talking about evacuating the medical center for fear of it being hit.

While the news was horrible, it was still surreal. We hadn't seen any of it. We had only heard. Hearing was terrible but not real yet. I was still very focused on the sonogram at hand.

We learned that day that Raemey Joy was on her way into the world. Her tiny little heart beat strong in that sonogram. She was coming! She was growing and alive!

September 11, 2001 was a terrible day in the history of our country. But in my life, it was the day that life began as a mother.

It as a day of hope in the midst of tragedy.

And that is what remembering should be about: hope.

New Roads

2009-09-02T16:05:00.003-05:00

I'm someone who gets bored easily. Daily routine is nice for about a week and then I am ready for something new. I need menus, workouts, expectations, and schedules to change a lot. Knowing exactly what is going to happen and when it is going to happen leaves me feeling fuzzy headed with totally met expectations.

Now, don't get me wrong: I want to be the one who sees the need for and initiates change. I also want to be in charge of how it happens!

In that light, I have chosen two new paths lately. First, I have begun the awesome task of serving as a leader for our church's women's ministry. This involves the chance to dream with some amazing women about what it would look like to release our women for ministry. I believe that God has great things in store for the women of Highland Oaks.

Secondly, I have started back to school. The plan had always been for me to finish my Mdiv work. But as I looked into it more, I could not get comfortable with the idea. Finally, I turned the whole thing over to prayer and just sat with it for several months.

During that time, God lead me to some amazing books. One of them, "Joining Forces", was a life changing read for more reasons than I will list here. In that book I read the term 'spiritual direction' for the first time and was overwhelmed with the need to know more about. As I researched, the Spirit kept confirming that I was on a God-given path. That research led me to a training program based here in Dallas.

And so, last Saturday I sat through orientation. I turned in the first paper that I had written in years and received a syllabus. And the entire time, I couldn't stop grinning! This is a three year program and the entire first year is about spiritually forming the student by living in the spiritual disciplines as a community. I am so excited to go to class tomorrow!

I hope that you'll indulge me to share some about this journey with you. In the meantime, what new roads are you traveling?

First day of school

2009-08-25T07:56:00.005-05:00

Wow! Summer has come and gone!

In some ways, I'm not sure what happened to it. In other ways, I am glad it is over. I loved the chance to play with my kids more and swim and eat ice cream but, the draw of freedom had given way to boredom. The kids had started using torturing one another for their favorite form of amusement. I don't know about you but it doesn't take long for me to grow weary of the teasing, fighting, and tears that follow!

At the same time, it is bittersweet to send them back to school. I turn over the majority of their waking hours to other adults and children who I don't know well. It can be scary to think about influences that I wouldn't approve of having their ear for hours each day. I worry about other children being cruel. I fret over their teachers having so many children in a classroom.

And yet, the first day of school has become a beautiful day to reflect on all the ways that they have grown. I am amazed at these wonderful girls who are growing into young women before my eyes. I marvel at all the things they know and can do now that they haven't been able to before. I'm aware of how few and precious these years are that they are under my roof and in my care. These gifts from the hands of God himself rest in my arms and what an amazing gift they are!

Yes, I shed a few tears yesterday as I walked away from their classrooms for the first time. Not because I couldn't bear to leave them but because it was a moment on holy ground as I considered all that God had given me in their sweet lives and all the potential that exists in these faces that I love so deeply.

Story

2009-05-18T08:52:00.003-05:00

I love a good story! I'm known for reading an entire book in a day because I get drawn in. I become very involved in the characters and emotionally invested in what happens to them. Just last night I was reading to my girls before bed. We have been reading "Charlotte's Web" together at night. Last night we read the chapter where Charlotte dies. I had to ask my husband to finish reading it because I kept crying! My girls thought I was crazy.

After we put the kids to bed we turned on a movie. I know, we are behind in movie viewing, but we finally watched "Prince Caspian" in the Narnia series. I was mesmerized! I love fantasy and the whole series is an allegory to our lives in Christ. There were a two images that stuck with me and played out in my dreams last night. The first was Lucy running to hug and wrestle with Aslan. I cried. The innocence and deep love was evident. It was also beautiful. Then when the other three children came before Aslan, they looked ashamed and bowed low. The contrast is powerful.

I have recently wondered why God chose to be revealed through story. While I find story compelling and emotionally involving, it is also a risky way to talk about yourself. There are so many ways that story can be understood and misunderstood. I still marvel at the sheer guts it takes to leave your story in the hands of people! I'm a writer; I know how dangerous that can be. But that is exactly what God chose to do. It astounds me.

As I dreamed last night, I found myself kneeling before Aslan longing to hug him and feel the soft fur under my hands. The image is still fresh this morning. I want to be the child who is innocent enough to run toward God with open arms and expect to be picked up and held in love. I find myself as the adult who cowers in the shadows, afraid to be seen.

Perhaps story allows us to interact with God in ways that seem far enough removed to keep us safe so that when we are ready, we will run out of the shadows to be embraced.

Mommyhood

2009-05-07T12:15:00.005-05:00

It seems that this time of year calls for a post about motherhood. I have several confessions to make about Mother's Day:
1. I quietly dread this holiday as it reminds me of our first miscarriage that happened just days before Mother's Day 8 years ago. It seems ridiculous to still grieve that loss in light of the three beautiful kids that I have given birth to, but I still grieve. That was the first time I knew how painful being a mother could be. The lesson was so sudden that it seared into my emotional memory.

2. The ironic part of being a mother is that I expend a lot of time and energy preparing for a day that is supposed to give me time off! Just this morning, I mailed off gifts and cards to grandmothers and important women in my life. The humor of it doesn't escape me.

3. Just as Christmas and Easter feel hollow without effort to see past the commercialism, I find this often to be a Hallmark holiday. I know that my children love and appreciate me. I make an effort to communicate my affection and gratitude to my mother often. This day can seem empty.

4. Just as a tree with lights can't begin to capture the mystery of advent, a single Sunday in spring doesn't do justice to the mystery that is motherhood. There has never been any other part of my life that is more challenging and formative than becoming a mom. Giving birth did not make me a mother; I am still growing into one.

5. I made a decision this year to honor women who were formative to me spiritually, women who nurtured me in ways that I wouldn't allow my own mother to. I also became aware of the spiritual mothers present in my children's lives. I want to honor them and hold them up in prayer.

My challenge to you is this: spend Sunday honoring the journey that is motherhood, whether or not you take your mom out to lunch or buy her flowers. Pray over her, bless her. Nurture her spirit in the same ways that you have been nurtured.

On the move

2009-04-16T08:18:00.000-05:00

Easter was never a big deal growing up. We didn’t have big family dinners or community egg hunts. Our church was of the persuasion that we celebrated Easter every Sunday so we shouldn’t make a big deal out of the actual day.

I can remember one Easter when I planned my own egg hunt just to see what it would be like. I was the only kid invited…not my big brother…and I was the coordinator. I got plastic eggs, stuffed them with candy, and after lunch hid them in the yard. I played in my room for an hour, trying to forget where I had hidden them, and then went to get them. It wasn’t that much fun.

However, since I married, Easter has taken on a whole new feel. Our church celebrates Easter as a time when people who wouldn’t normally come to church, do. So, we plan cool stuff in worship and have a big egg hunt for the kids. My husband’s family always had a big family dinner at Easter and all the cousins would hunt eggs in the backyard.

I suppose it is some of the influence of growing up as I did but this year I really struggled to get in the right mindset for Easter. I chose to observe the Lenten season by asking the question, “Where have I gotten away from God?” As I sat in that question for 40 days, I was shocked to see where I had really pulled away from God.

I had chosen to live in reality.

I have chosen to see life through the lenses of the probable and logical, the lenses of rational thinking and levelheaded judgment. I had lost my faith glasses.

As Easter morning dawned, dark and stormy at my house, I was still wrestling with the feeling that this was just like every other Sunday. My husband left long before dawned cracked, the kids had been up and down all night because of the storms, and I had to get all of us tired and cranky people ready and out of the door on time. I found myself asking God, “Why all the fuss? Why does today matter? Isn’t it just like every other Sunday?”

As I began to get ready, resenting every movement I had to make as removing me farther and farther from my sleep, this thought settled over me. God is not dead. The tomb was empty then and it is empty now. It’s empty. But more than that, he came. He still comes. He is active. He is “on the move” as C.S. Lewis describes it. Easter matter because God still moves. He chose to engage humanity in the form of Jesus and he still chooses to engage all of humanity. God is hovering, just as he did in Genesis 1 and he is revealing himself just as he did to Moses on the mountain. God is still shaping the course and path of the human race, one person at a time.

There is a new Chris Tomlin song with these lines, “There is a day that’s drawing near when this darkness fades to light and all the shadow disappear and my faith shall be my eyes.”

It echoes in my mind.

Parenthood

2009-03-30T08:51:00.000-05:00

Chad and I have begun a kind of informal survey if you will. We want to know about other parents' journeys. Will you share your wisdom with us?

1. What is your greatest strength in parenting? What are you really good at?
2. What has been your greatest victory so far?
3. What is something you want to change about how you parent?
4. How are you (or have you) instilling(ed) faith in your children?
5. What is the best advice you have ever gotten regarding parenting?
6. What is the worst advice you have ever gotten regarding parenting?
7. What do you pray for your children?
8. What mistakes have you made that you wish you could "undo"?

If you have other things to share that have helped you on your journey or that you wish you had known, feel free to add them in here.

Fed Up

2009-03-24T17:21:00.001-05:00

I have had enough.

Here is the whole truth…this male dominated society and church that we live in is sinful. It denies the reality that women are also made in the image of God to further His kingdom.

But, a female dominated society and church would be wrong as well.

Genesis tells us that God created them male and female, in His image. He walked with both of them in the cool of the day. He created them for one another, not in competition with one another.

Humans tend to let pendulums swing from one extreme to another. When we’ve had enough of one thing we push too far the other way. For instance, when the women’s movement gained fuel in the 1960’s and 70’s, it took on a military stance of strength and a harsh, borderline violent edge. Man bashing became an acceptable sport.

I am not created to be a spineless, brainless follower.

I am also not created to be a power devouring fool.

I am created to reflect the image of my Creator.

The Jesus of the New Testament, the Son of God, came to redeem a fallen world back into relationship with His Father. He came for the whole world, not just the white males. Today’s church is Jesus to the world we occupy. So, what is this Jesus telling my daughters?

Lent

2009-03-02T11:41:00.002-06:00

Having grown up in the churches of Christ, I didn't know anything about Lent. My hometown was dominantly Mormon so I never witnessed the practice of Ash Wednesday.

My first full time job was in a bookstore located in Houston. The store was owned by an Episcopalian woman who was a devout follower of Jesus. She came in to work one Wednesday morning in late February and said that she would be leaving at 10am for church. That was odd to me because she had never left during the work day for church before. Then when she came back, her forehead was dirty. I am so grateful for a store full of customers that kept me from inquiring about the dirty forehead before I saw a calendar and put it all together!

Since that first, almost terrible, blunder with the season of Lent, I have become fascinated by the traditions of Lent.

This year, I really wrestled with what to give up for Lent. As I wondered and Ash Wednesday was upon me, an article from Ruth Haley Barton's Transforming Center arrived. Here is a short excerpt from the article:

Unfortunately, the practice of entering into the Lenten season has often been reduced to the question: "What are you giving up for Lent?" This is a fine question, but it can only take us so far. The real question of the Lenten season is: How will I find ways to return to God with all my heart? This begs an even deeper question: Where in my life have I gotten away from God and what are the disciplines that will enable me to find my way back?

That is the real question that had plagued my heart. While it would be better for my weight if I gave up chocolate and better for my work if I gave up Facebook, what would call me more fully to God? That is the question that I am still pondering and invite you to ask as well.

Where in your life have you gotten away from God and what disciplines will enable you to find your way back?

That will take at least until Easter morning to answer completely.

The Wall

2009-02-24T13:31:00.002-06:00

Everyone has defense mechanisms. They are ways of behaving that protect us when we feel threatened. Sometimes they are the result of childhood traumas. Sometimes they are just learned behaviors.

I build a wall. When faced with emotional pain, I build a wall around my inner self brick by brick to keep everyone else out. If the pain continues, I coat the wall with steel. If the pain still persists, I begin to freeze all emotion. You know, like Tracy on Heroes. One touch and things freeze before shattering.

I've been aware of this tendency in myself and have made a conscious effort to keep myself interacting with people even when I am in pain. I am a private person by nature and enjoy keeping parts of my identity away from others. So, it takes real effort on my part to continue to put myself "out there". I don't want others to enter my pain; I want to keep it for myself.

I felt the first bricks fall into place on Sunday. I have lived in emotional pain for nearly a year now and it became acute last Thursday. The only way that I anticipate survival is to shut down.

I don't have a great application or insightful saying. I just hurt. And I'm trying not to.

Birthday

2009-02-16T21:11:00.002-06:00

I turned 31 just a couple of weeks ago. For eight years now, I have celebrated my birthday with a tradition of adopting a Psalm for the year. I choose the one that corresponds to my new age and spend a year watching for all the ways God brings it to life.

This year, on my birthday, I had the morning to myself. So, I sat down to read last year's Psalm and journaled for an hour about all the ways God had revealed himself to me in the year before. It as an overwhelming and wonderful experience. God is good to me.

Here is my Psalm for this year:

Psalm 31
For the director of music. A psalm of David.
1 In you, O LORD, I have taken refuge; let me never be put to shame; deliver me in your righteousness.
2 Turn your ear to me, come quickly to my rescue; be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me.
3 Since you are my rock and my fortress, for the sake of your name lead and guide me.
4 Free me from the trap that is set for me, for you are my refuge.
5 Into your hands I commit my spirit; redeem me, O LORD, the God of truth.
6 I hate those who cling to worthless idols; I trust in the LORD.
7 I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul.
8 You have not handed me over to the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place.
9 Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief.
10 My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning; my strength fails because of my affliction, and my bones grow weak.
11 Because of all my enemies, I am the utter contempt of my neighbors; I am a dread to my friends— those who see me on the street flee from me.
12 I am forgotten by them as though I were dead; I have become like broken pottery.
13 For I hear the slander of many; there is terror on every side; they conspire against me and plot to take my life.
14 But I trust in you, O LORD; I say, "You are my God."
15 My times are in your hands; deliver me from my enemies and from those who pursue me.
16 Let your face shine on your servant; save me in your unfailing love.
17 Let me not be put to shame, O LORD, for I have cried out to you; but let the wicked be put to shame and lie silent in the grave.
18 Let their lying lips be silenced, for with pride and contempt they speak arrogantly against the righteous.
19 How great is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you, which you bestow in the sight of men on those who take refuge in you.
20 In the shelter of your presence you hide them from the intrigues of men; in your dwelling you keep them safe from accusing tongues.
21 Praise be to the LORD, for he showed his wonderful love to me when I was in a besieged city.
22 In my alarm I said, "I am cut off from your sight!" Yet you heard my cry for mercy when I called to you for help.
23 Love the LORD, all his saints! The LORD preserves the faithful, but the proud he pays back in full.
24 Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD.

On my mind

2009-02-03T11:32:00.004-06:00

I spent all day yesterday trying to decide which one of these ideas to blog about but I couldn't choose. So...

1. In a matter of 10 days: I have found my first gray hair...with about 15 others. I have gotten my first traffic ticket EVER. I will turn 31. I am in transition overload!!!

2. I have spent the last two weekends with different groups of people that I love dearly and trust deeply. They know the core of who I am and challenge me to live up to that. They pray with me, for me and over me. I am a better person after being with them and knowing that I walk this journey with all of them. They call Christ out in my life.

3. I have never spoken politically on this blog. I feel the need to say this. My kingdom is not of this world but I have a duty as a Christian to pray for the well being of my human leaders. I recognize that each of them are in place as God has ordained and I pray for His will to be done under thier authority. Many of my fellow Christ followers have taken it upon themselves to pray against our newly elected president, forgetting that our hope, refuge, and well-being lie beyond his control. I would rather pray that the plans of God be accomplished.

4. People are truly a mystery. They are not an equation that can be understood completely or made entirely predicatable. Maybe it's because we are made in the image of One so complex that we cannot fathom all that is within us.

5. I am married to THE most amazing man in all the world. He was superdad for an entire weekend, while preparing to preach and participating in the future of our church, so that I could spend time with my college girlfriends (see #2). Here's a shoutout to you, baby! You are awesome!

6. I often don't pray specifically because I am afraid of how God will answer my request. I am in a funky season of feeling really daring and just boldly asking what I really want. It feels crazy! And freeing!

7. I am not grown up yet. I think that's why this birthday is a little unnerving. I am supposed to be the adult. But even this weekend, I discovered things about what motivates me and pushes me to succeed that I hadn't realized before. Aren't you supposed to know all that stuff by now?

8. God took a huge risk in revealing Himself through story. There is a lot of room for interpretation surrounding story. Apparently, He's okay with that. I feel the need to make conclusive statements and lists about myself. Hmm...

9. Twin Springs Texas Sweet Red is my absolute favorite wine right now. It would seem that a lot of you share that love because the warehouse for the Dallas area is empty. Quit drinking my favorite! I found it first :-)!

10. The physical well being of our bodies does influence the spiritual well being. Fascinating!

I think that I'm done now. Whew! Maybe I can concentrate now!

Silence

2009-01-26T11:20:00.002-06:00

I lost my voice this weekend. Beside the usual annoyance of whispering all the time, it presents real challenges in parenting. My two year old knows that I can't raise my voice to get his attention, so he talks louder as he does lots of things that he shouldn't. I was trying to give my girls a bath but couldn't be heard over running water. While driving us home from church yesterday, there was an absolute mutiny in the car over entertainment choices. One wanted a movie, one wanted one CD and one had another CD in mind. I don't tolerate shouting matches over trivial things, but who could hear my corrections?

However, there are some advantages. I choose very carefully what I will say and how I will say it. It is painful to talk so I don't mince words. I am required to be very close to the person that I want to communicate with.

I also have to listen, a lot. I thought that I was a pretty good listener. I am realizing that I'm not so hot. I am always thinking about how to respond and what I would do or say differently. When I can't interrupt vocally, I'm interrupting mentally. Interesting, huh?

I wonder if I do that with God. Do I interrupt what He is trying to communicate with my loudness? I want to practice truly being silent in His presence. It won't be easy.

Dear Friends and Family

2009-01-12T10:44:00.001-06:00

Dear Friends and Family,

Thank you so much for wanting to include our little man on the monetary incentives you offer his older sisters. However, please disist from giving him any more change. The ER bills cannot be covered by pennies in his belly.

Thank you,
Chad and Rhesa

Serenade

2008-12-17T13:54:00.003-06:00

At any high end resturaunt at this time of year, you would be serenaded with beautiful renditions of Christmas music. At dinner, every night so far this week, we have been treated to two beautiful songs by our two year old.

The first goes like this, "Glor........or......or.....oria. Anna Chelsea DAYO! Glor....or....or....oria. Anna Chelsea DAYO!"

And the second is, "Frosty the no-man was jolly happy soul in a ONE HORSE OOOOPEN SLEIGH!"

LOL!!!

All I Want for Christmas

2008-12-15T09:22:00.002-06:00

Is my two front teeth!

Scurry

2008-12-15T09:05:00.003-06:00

We have had a first this holiday season. Our first Nutcracker performance! Our oldest was a mouse in her dance studio's production of this holiday classic.

For weeks, she practiced scurry-ing around our house with her little hands up in front of her. When the costume came home, she insisted on modeling it for every person who graced our front door. The morning of the performance, she woke up at 6am to tell her sister, "I get to wear mascara today!" This was a very important moment for our sweet little girl and she savored every bit of it.

Here's a cute picture of our mouse...

Remember

2008-12-02T13:18:00.004-06:00

The opportunity to remember has presented itself several times in the last two weeks.

First, on a cold Saturday afternoon, I showed my girls their baby pictures. We laughed and told stories about when they were little. They were so intrigued by the chance to hear about themselves as babies and where we were living and what our house was like then and so on. I was reminded that as crazy as our lives seem now, there was nothing harder than two babies under the age of two.

Then, as I was supposed to be cleaning the house for Thanksgiving guests, the girls dug out an OLD video tape of my high school drill team. They begged to watch it and watched two seasons worth of football games and pep rallies. They would pick me out of the line in every shot and say funny things like, "Mommy! You could really dance then!" Ha!!!

When that was over, they wanted to watch our wedding video. LOL! So, we pulled it out too. They oohed and awwhhed at the dress and flowers and begged me to fast forward through all the long talking. They loved watching us kiss and our first dance. They kept saying, "You look so young, Mommy! Daddy looks like a teenager." So funny! They especially watched my sisters as our flower girls because they will be flower girls in just a few weeks.

On Thanksgiving, we sat around a table with extended family and told stories. I expected the kids to get bored quickly and head off to playtime. Instead, my oldest sat on my lap and listened to stories about all of us growing up-from my dad's childhood to mine. As I put her to bed that night, she said, "Mommy. God has always been part of our family, right?"

How sweet and tender that question is! Yes, baby. God has always been a part of our family, even when we didn't know it. That's worth a trip down memory lane.

Grief and Allegiance

2008-11-16T17:41:00.003-06:00

I knew from a very young age that this place is not my true home. I was a child that looked forward to going to heaven because that's where my daddy was. It seems a natural way for a child to express grief.

As I got older, I was still very comfortable with the idea that my allegiance was to the kingdom of heaven. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my life as a teenager and a young adult but I knew that I wasn't supposed to get too settled here. This was just a part of the journey, not the destination.

I don't sit well on that train of thought anymore. It's not because I am really fond of the poverty, suffering, and diasaster that mark our world. Those are just part of this existence. I'm not even that crazy about mortages, jobs, and carpool.

I want to stay here because of the people that make up my life. I want see my daughters get married and become mothers. I want to see my son become a man. I want to see all the ways that God has shaped them to become adults. I want to sit with them in the quieter years of my life and hear their stories of faith. I want to be here.

I wrestle with this idea of allegiance today as a precious family was plunged into the depths of grief this week. They know where their allegiance is and yet they must feel cheated of all those things. A mother should never bury her own son. A brother, barely a teenager, should not see his older brother and mentor in a casket. A neice shouldn't cry for a favorite uncle's lap. A sister should not have to bear such horrible news to her parents. This doesn't seem the natural order of things.

Why God? Why must it be this way? Why is death a part of life? Why do the young die before they have a chance to live their life? Why do Daddy's die and never come home to the children who miss them? Why?

How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;
my enemy will say, "I have overcome him,"
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me.

Journey

2008-11-10T10:19:00.003-06:00

I love fall! I love cooler weather and pumpkins and hot chocolate and sweaters and rich colors and soup and Halloween and...

But most of all, I love the trees. I love the colors changing. It is such a mystery to me how it all works and why. Yes, I studied it in school and know the facts. But why? Why did God make it work this way? Why the cycle of slowly dying and falling and then blooming again? It is a delicate, deep mystery that leaves me feeling content.

I have a favorite tree this year. It is on my way home and I have been watching it for almost two weeks now. It was so slow to begin to turn. Other trees in this same yard were brillant colors of yellow and red but this one stayed green for a long time. Then one day last week I noticed that it had begun the process. But my tree didn't proceed in the normal pattern. The leaves on the tips of branches were red. In the middle, golden yellow. Inside, still spring green. The tree stayed this way for seven days! It was as if it was frozen in time.

Yesterday, I saw that overnight the yellow had creeped to the inside of the tree and the red had moved to the middle. Those inital rubies had fallen to the ground. I was sad to see that tree change. I had come to look forward to seeing it everyday on my way home.

We are that way aren't we? Even when we know something can't and shouldn't stay a certain way, we are sad when it changes. I was reminded that change is the way of life. It moves us forward at all time toward new blooms, new life.

I was also blessed by this tree that had it's own way to go about change. It didn't take the typical pattern or speed of change. It was moving just as it should have, at it's own pace and in it's own way. Beautiful!

Life is about change. Life in God is about changing to look more like Jesus all the time. That change requires the death of some parts of us and new life to grow in their place. Change occurs in each individual at their own pace and in their own way. God created each of us to walk a unique path, a journey all our own. But in the infinite wisdom, we were placed in a forest who has the same ultimate purpose: change.

Messy

2008-10-28T13:23:00.004-05:00

I do not like messy. I can handle dirty, but not messy. For instance, it is less of a concern to me that there are dust bunnies on my wood floor than that there are books all over the floor of my office. I am not as concerned about dirty dishes in the sink as I am about countertops covered in junk mail. I don't let toothpaste in the sink worry me as much as dirty clothes covering the bathroom floor.

Sunday was messy. At 7:45pm, we headed all of our dirty children upstairs for a quick bath. It had been a day of constant ministry. Church that morning, a fundraiser lunch and afternoon of activities, and a community trunk or treat event that I had help organize. The kids were sticky from candy and hayrides. Their faces had been painted and so had their hands, when they decorated pumpkins.

We tried to walk through the living room but baby boy had scattered all the candy over the floor and we slipped and slid to the staircase. The stairs were littered with pajamas, shoes, Sunday clothes, and costumes. The kids bathroom was a picture of a perfect disaster where a toddler had thrown every bath toy onto the floor and hidden toothbrushes in the hairbow drawer. When the kids were finally in bed, and a path to the toilet cleared in case of midnight needs, I headed downstairs where I longed to crash.

Instead, I started picking up candy in the living room and then proceeded to our bedroom and bathroom. Our bathtub was full of lemonade trash (it's not as strange as it would seem) and our floor was covered with the many changes of clothes that today had required. In my exhaustion, I began to think about these things:

Ministry is messy. Getting into people's lives is messy. They have stuff and I have stuff and when all that stuff gets together, there is a mess!

I stay away from mess. It brings out the OCD side of me and I want to compulsively clean it up!

By staying away from mess, I keep myself from ministry.

Is that wrong?

Prayer

2008-10-21T21:29:00.003-05:00

Tonight I pray for all the mothers in the world...

I pray for the mothers who watch helplessly as their children wither instead of bloom.

I pray for that mother heart that we share and the pain it must endure to survive each day. I pray for miraculous provision to come to their children. I pray for glimmers of hope. I pray for private moments to cry and release the pain. I pray for the world to notice, to act. I pray for the Kingdom to break into their life.

I pray for the men who love them, or at least live with them, to have wisdom in consoling their mother heart.

I pray for their children. I pray that as their bodies wither, their spirits bloom in the loving care of the mother.

I pray for my heart that it might grow in it's capacity to love and be loved. I pray for my children that they may bloom. I pray for perspective that acknowledges the blessings of the life we live.

Sunday Mornings

2008-10-19T22:02:00.002-05:00

One of my favorite moments of the week is Sunday morning, driving to church. Quite often, it has been a marathon of insanity to get in the car, on time, to drive 25 minutes to our church. My husband leaves VERY early and so I am Super Mom on Sunday morning. Only, I'm not so super to be around sometimes! :-)

But, once we get in the car, the world begins to change for me. We have a rule that we only listen to praise music on Sunday mornings and once the music begins, no talking, only singing! One of our favorites to sing along to is Chris Tomlin's "See the Morning".

This morning, sweet baby boy sang along for the first time. The only words from the whole CD he knew were "God saves" and he sang them over and over. Sometimes, they were part of the song. Sometimes, they weren't. Who cares?!? Is there anything more important?

God saves.
God saves.
God saves.
God saves.
God saves.
God saves.
God saves.

Amen, baby boy. Preach on!

A Psalm of Praise

2008-10-13T09:06:00.000-05:00

Bless the LORD, O my soul
And all that is within me…
All the love and fear
All the anger and peace
All the dreams and doubts
All the kindness and indifference.

Bless the LORD, O my soul
And all that is within me,
Bless His holy name.
Jehovah, Creator
Father, Mother.

Bless the LORD, O my soul
And do not forget his benefits.
He calls my life by his design and equips my mind for his purpose.
HE LOVES ME.
He delivers my heart from despair and leads my desires with his own hand
So that he proves himself faithful, over and over again.

The LORD is.
He is the beginning and the end. He is the compassionate redeemer.
He is the creative healer. He is my mighty warrior.
He is the wise avenger. He is the reliable provider.

He knows my history and my heart.
He knows my purpose and my plan.
He heals the disease of my body and soul.
He hears the cry of my mouth and heart.

Bless the LORD, Raemey, for all that he has done.
Bless the LORD, Ryleigh, for all that he intends.
Bless the LORD, Caysson, for all that he is.
Bless the LORD, Chad, for all that he provides.
Bless the LORD, Rhesa, for he is good.

Birthdays

2008-09-30T11:41:00.003-05:00

The fall is crazy at our house. Just days after getting everyone back to school, we celebrate two birthdays. Our middle daughter turned 5 last Tuesday. This is my favorite picture of her! Notice the two missing teeth.

Our baby turns 2 on Sunday. My goodness! How can that be possible? And why do I still have a baby belly?!?

While each individual day can drag on, time marches by so fast.

Must Reads

2008-09-21T20:01:00.003-05:00

I want to tell you about two books that I have loved in this last month. Add them to the stack on your bedside table and let me know what you think!

Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin was written in 1960 based on experiment conducted in the fall of 1959. Mr. Griffin was a white writer living in Texas when he decided to become a black man and experience life in the deep south. Through medication he turned his skin dark and then shaved his hair to take on the identity of a black man. The book chronicles his experiences in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Georgia. Mr. Griffin changed nothing else about himself for this experiment. He kept the same name, wore the same clothes and was honest about his profession to anyone who asked. What he lived was a life so completely different from his own that he was forever changed.

The book was written strictly for social and political change but I began to think theologically about it. What must it have been like for Jesus, still being God but trapped in a human body? How lonely he must have been for home! The miracle and mystery of the incarnation leave my mind twisted up and my heart full anytime I try to contemplate them. While I can choose to be fairly empathetic, I can't ingest the sacrifice of wanting to understand another so entirely that you give up yourself.

I have mentioned before reading Renovation of the Heart by Dallas Willard. I was, in effect, dared to read this one. It was a challenging read. Mr. Willard presents so much meat in his writing that you really have to slow down and digest all that is being offered. I prefer to speed read but this one forced me to take a chapter every other day so that I could think through all that was being offered on the plate.

I took from this book the simple truth that all humans are being formed spiritually. Some humans are being shaped into the image of Christ while others are being shaped into the image of evil but all are being shaped, even those who don't believe. Whether I am conscious of it or not, I am being shaped at all times spiritually. That seems elementary I suppose but the far reaching effects are astounding! Before you jump onto the fear bandwagon that claims the importance of "see no evil, hear no evil", Willard challenges Christians to engage evil so that we come to recognize it. That one should leave you chewing for a while...

Formation

2008-09-15T14:21:00.002-05:00

This has been a hard week. The last eight days have truly challenged me to the core. I've already told you about last Monday and the injury to middle daughter's mouth. The next day was a rare long work day for me. Wednesday was marked by another trip to the dentist. Thursday was my son's first day of school and Friday was about a broken heart and dinner guests. Saturday was lost to painting my toddler's new room, a hurricane blowing through, and a stomach bug. Sunday was engulfed in reorganizing a playroom and tending to the sick. Today was monopolized by having teeth pulled. Wow! Three of these events stand out to me because in them, I felt my soul being shaped.

Thursday was a marathon day. We had all the excitement of a first day of school (I was especially excited). But then, the girls had dance in the afternoon. After such a long week already this day stretched on forever. In the midst of mile 17 or so, my middle one responded to me with such hatred and violence that I was crushed. None of my children have ever been so angry with me. I know that you veteran moms will tell me that it is only to be expected but I was devastated. My heart broke that this child who is so like me could hate me. We weren't even fighting about something negotiable and she physically responded with anger. It took a full 24 hours for me reflect on the fact that her passion for life lends itself to ups and downs. The violence was inexcusable and was treated as such. But, she and I were both being shaped then and in the aftermath. My temper flares more readily for her than the others and she detests feeling squashed. I must constantly balance her need to be truly herself with my need to be in control. I'm trying to take that lesson to heart.

Friday was marked by our oldest coming home from first grade with heart broken by the unkind words of a classmate. His name calling and gossip left her in tears. I was so grateful for my husband's calming presence as we talked with her. Momma Bear was ready to attack. Daddy helped her seek the heart of Christ in her response. I was reminded again of my passion for these kids that I bore and my need to have that passion checked by the Spirit that is growing inside me every day. It is more important to model and impart the Way than to protect them. That lesson brings me to tears.

Finally, Sunday. The middle one woke during Saturday night, a reality that we refer to as "The Curse" in a minister's household, very sick. I stayed home with her and sent the other two with friends to church. Daddy had left very early for his longest work day of the week. I was reminded that congregational worship is at the core of my week. My soul is thirsty and the water of worshiping with the group that we call family is a unique thirst quencher. Yes, in many ways, Sunday is work day for me as well, even if the paycheck doesn't have my name on it and the job description is sketchy. But it is more than work. It is the day that I engage purposefully in being part of a community that seeks Christ. It is the day that we together profess that Christ is head of our church and our individual lives. It is the day that we put aside the struggles we face as a community and individuals to declare with one voice that Jesus is sovereign. It is the day that I am reminded of why we live this life of ministry. There is hole in my week. This is a lesson that I cherish.

In this long week, I am confident that God has been moving to create in me a heart more like Jesus'. I believe that the Spirit in me has grown to take over impulses of my human self. I know that God has been near. That is the hope that makes formation a worthwhile endeavor.

2008-09-10T09:22:00.002-05:00

Here's is what I overheard my daughters say as they were getting ready this morning.

Older: Hurry up! We can't turn on the TV until you are dressed.

Younger: I'm trying but my PANTIES (yelled) are stuck in my skirt. Guess what? One of my new friends wears strawberry shortcake panties, too! Isn't that great?

So what is a marker of a great friendship in four year olds? Matching character panties! I was rolling on the floor laughing at this one. After I could breathe again and stopped the tears rolling down my cheeks, I wondered what markers exist for great friendships in general.

The following quote is from Dallas Willard's "Renovation of the Heart", a challenging and wonderful read.

"Love is not a feeling but a divine way of relating to others and oneself that moves through every dimension of our being and restructures our world for good.

This love reaches into every dimension of human existence: thought, feeling, body, soul, and world. Our very identity is always intermingled with others who have given us life, sustained us, walked with us and even deeply injured us."

I was blessed to spend the weekend with the kind of friends that have shaped my very identity in positive ways. We sustained one another and walked together in those formative college years. But even more, we have continued to walk together in these often confusing and challenging years of becoming wives, mothers, and professionals. I am a better woman because they walk with me. I am a mother who gives true life because they encourage me. I have been changed for good because of their influence on my life.

My identity carries those deep injuries, just as yours must. But, it also carries the love of these friends that reaches into the darkness of pain and shines the Light.

Thanks girls! I love you!

Today

2008-09-08T17:13:00.002-05:00

I had a plan for what I was going to write today. I wanted to tell you about my wonderful weekend. But, all I can think about is today.

I left my house, already running late, at 8:45am to go to the grocery store. Little Man and I finally pulled out of the parking lot with groceries in tow at 10:45am. Yes. TWO hours later!!! We were late for a play date and had groceries in the back. After unloading just the cold stuff, we raced to our play date.

As we pulled into the park, late, I decided to favor simplicity. I took just my keys and our water and set out to enjoy time visiting with my sister in law and friend. Thirty minutes later, her phone rang with my husband's caller ID. He had been trying to reach me for sometime to report that our middle child had fallen at school.

I ditched Little Man and his car seat on his aunt and raced to school. I was greeted by a tear stained face, swollen lips and loose teeth. After hours of trying to find a pediatric dentist that was actually in the office today, we found out that the roots of at least one of her front teeth are severely damaged. It is just a waiting game now to see if they can heal.

We got her home, settled with ice, and my husband set off for work again. Homework started with the girls and then the phone rang. My husband's car had died. We rescued him, reclaimed Little Man and are now home.

I'm tired and the evening has yet to begin.

First Day Jitters

2008-08-27T16:42:00.002-05:00

On Monday, our oldest joined the millions of children who marched back into the classroom to begin another of school. She was so excited and a little nervous. Here's just a sampling of our conversation while picking out the very important FDOS (first day of school) outfit:

RJ: Mommy, this is my favorite skirt. I want to wear it tomorrow.

Me: Okay, great! What shirt will go with it?

RJ: My high school musical shirt? (hopefully)

Me: No, baby. But your high school muscial shirt would look cute with this skirt.

RJ: But that's not my favorite. I want to wear my favorite on the first day.

Me: Well, then how about your Barbie T-shirt?

RJ: Is first grade too old to wear a Barbie T-shirt?

I pause here. Wow! IS FIRST GRADE TOO OLD TO WEAR A BARBIE T-SHIRT???? What else can I say to that?

Good-bye

2008-08-18T14:37:00.003-05:00

I hate that word.

My daughters would remind me right now that we don't use the word hate in our house, but today it is the only word strong enough for how I feel.

Today I said good-bye to one of the most genuine friends I have had as an adult. I watched her load her precious children in the car and drive away from an upstairs window and my heart broke again.

A little research told me that the word is derived from saying, "God be with you". Apparently, as people wrote the phrase they abbreviated it to "Goodbye". I'm enough of a word geek that this is interesting to me but it also expresses what I truly meant through my tear choked good-byes. I meant, "May God go with you and bless you and bring you dear friends. May God be a tangible presence in your life as everything is new. May God comfort you as you mourn a past life and give you excitement as you begin a new life. May you be assured that our friendship will continue even as miles separate us. May you know that God is God, in California or Texas. May we someday watch our daughters play together again."

Maybe I don't actually hate the word because I love the idea of blessing someone with the presence of God but I hate the hole in heart today. And I hate thinking about all the tomorrows that I will miss the friend who saw me through post-partum depression, job searches, and the loneliness of life in ministry.

Here's to you, Em! I love you, girl!

A Decade

2008-07-30T15:37:00.003-05:00

In just nine days my sweet husband and I will have been married for ten years. (I know, I should have published this yesterday so that it would say in 10 days...but, somehow I think I lost yesterday)

Wow! That's a decade! You know, like "the sixties". We've been married for 1o years. That's 3650 days and I have no idea how many minutes. (Math is not my thing!) I've been married for 1/3 of my life.

In some ways, I can't believe that is right. In other ways, I can't really remember life before we were married. I remember events from before we were married but it seems that I have always fallen asleep next to this man and eaten breakfast with him. He is my best friend and my completion. We just go together, like chocolate chip cookies and milk! There is no one else on earth that I would rather spend a lifetime getting to know better and trying to understand more. There is no other man on earth that I could feel so safe with. There is no other father that I would want my children to have.

GFP- i love you baby! Happy Anniversary!

PS- what are you doing on 8-8-18? I know this great beach...

Firefly Lane

2008-07-23T10:19:00.004-05:00

I just finished a great book! Firefly Lane by Kristin Hannah is chick lit with a purpose. It is the story of two friends through four decades of life. It explores the question of a woman's search for purpose both in the the work world and at home.

I confess, it has some rough edges of language from time to time but the characters are so real. They breathe life at you from every paragraph. I laughed and balled (the end is soooo sad).

It was a great read that I picked up on a whim on the new release shelf at the library. I devoured the whole thing in under 8 hours of ignoring my family.

There is plenty of girl talk about fashion and makeup, some of it from every decade! The descriptions of the clothes and makeup from the seventies and early eighties are worth the read alone! There is also reference to great music (I still love the eighties!) and discussion about living life for what is really all about.

I'd love to hear if you enjoy it too!

Tired

2008-07-21T09:01:00.003-05:00

There are days when you are just tired. Your body is begging for more sleep and muscles seem to turn to jello. And then there are seasons when your soul is tired. Your heart has been mourning for too long and your mind refuses to focus.

Today, the two have collided. Our weekend was a marathon of meaningful and fun activities and my body is tired! Yesterday, it was announced at church that another of our friends is leaving. I already knew but my children didn't. When the announcement was made, my middle daughter began to cry. I had no idea that she would process the information so personally and so quickly. Her tears prompted my own and feelings of abandonment were strong.

My husband and I began this journey of ministry together almost ten years ago. We are just now creating a rhythm of dealing with the pain and joy of it together in a healthy way. Now, we have to help our children do the same thing. I suppose that I naively believed that ministry couldn't hurt them in the same ways that it hurts us, as adults. But twice in the last two months, my middle child has said goodbye to friends because their parents have left the church staff and begun the quiet move toward a life outside of our own.

Her pain is unbearable to my already fragile soul.

And so today, I'm just tired. My heart is tired of hurting and body is responding in kind. We are having a pajama day to savor the healing qualities of rest.

Volume

2008-07-17T09:43:00.003-05:00

So, I've had trouble coming up with a post for this week. I have had several ideas at one time or another but never wrote them down when I had them and then forgot them. I hate it when that happens! But last night, on the way to small group, my children provided me with rich material again...

Summer is a long season for a stay at home mom. There is no school, no mother's day out, fewer playdates and it is really too hot to send the kids outside for long periods of time.

One of the symptoms of this summer illness is that siblings get a little sick of each other. My girls are the best of friends and the worst of enemies in any given moment! They stay up late whispering across thier room to each other and giggling. And they scream at each other for taking a precious toy or writing in the other's diary.

Last night, we are in the minivan (can I just say again that we cannot live without our minivan?!) driving to our weekly small group meeting. The younger is writing in the air...yes, the air, with her finger. The older is screaming that the younger is writing on her rainbow. But, they are both writing in the air. After the first three screaming matches about this encroachment, the hilarity of it left me. They were getting on my last nerve.

As any other mother of young children, I want to teach them to resolve conflict in a healthy and constructive way. So, I turned the music on so loud that they both had to cover their ears! :-) After their jaws began to close, I turned it down to listening level and marveled that immediately they began singing praises together. In fact, their daddy would love to hear that there was even some harmony trying to work itself out from the back seat as we all belted out "How Can I Keep from Singing?"

That got me wondering about our church. We are in a painful time when lots of people seem to just be getting on each other's nerves. Maybe we should just turn up the praise a little...

Saving Submission

2008-07-08T10:14:00.000-05:00

On Sunday at our church we talked about submission. Now before you throw your computer off of your lap or yell at the monitor, let me clarify.

We are in a series on Abraham and talked about how Abraham let Lot choose his land first. Our conversation focused on “submitting to one another out of reverence to Christ” not “wives submit to your husbands”. Both are important conversations to be had but I want to talk about submission in general before we drag gender into it.

Here is where I landed on things: the word submission leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It has been misused against me and in instruction of me for all of my life. I relate submission to be being a limp noodle. You are in submission to someone when they dominate you. You may know more about a topic or decision but you defer to another’s opinion either for the sake of avoiding conflict or for fear of their reaction. That is the submission that I have been taught in the past. Who would want to do that?

And why would Christ call us to a life of fear?

Maybe I’ve misunderstood. On Sunday, I started wrestling with the idea of submission as controlled power. Choosing the way of another not because they are better than you or smarter than you or stronger than you. Laying down my own will not because I am afraid of conflict or strong reaction. Submitting my choice to another to show love. Allowing what may not be best for me, right now, so that what is best for another can shine through.

That seems more like what Christ would call his followers to.

What do you think?

Updates

2008-06-30T21:14:00.004-05:00

So, I'm not capable of deep thoughts tonight. Why?

1. I'm hungry, even though I already ate dinner, and Hawaii is only 35 days away. No ice cream tonight!

2. I'm in that miserable pre-peeling stage after a bad sunburn. I am itching sooo bad!

3. I'm too busy enjoying our air conditioning that is working again. In Texas, in almost July, air conditioning is a necessity, not a luxury!

4. Work is hard right now. There is so much to do and no confidence to do it.

5. Did I mention that Hawaii is only 35 days away? Maybe I should explain that...in 35 days my sweet husband and I leave to celebrate our tenth anniversary in Hawaii. I could happily leave today and stay for 35 days! Kauai, our destination island, is one of my favorite places in the whole world and we haven't been there since our honeymoon.

OO! Here's a good idea to talk about: I have been dreaming about a vow renewal ceremony on the beach, at sunset on our anniversary. I would love to hear your creative input on ways to make it memorable and meaningful. Whatcha' think?

Wonder

2008-06-23T16:23:00.003-05:00

Last week we took the family to San Antonio. It was a week of relaxing and just being together but the best part was going to Sea World. We rushed in the gates at 10am and headed straight to a show called "Viva". Dolphins and Beluga whales swam with synchronized swimmers and amazing divers all set to music. We were all mesmerized.

I found myself a little teary-eyed as I watched the dolphins and whales with their trainers. Complete trust and deep relationship existed betweeen an animal and a human. Part of my soul connected to this idea that God meant it to be like that. Animals were meant to trust humans as their protectors; humans were meant to treasure the gift of wildlife as a huge responsibility.

I am very disconnected from nature most of time. I'm not really the outdoorsy type. Outdoors is hot, messy and involves bugs. None of those are really my forte. But just maybe I've been missing out on more than grass stains and mosquito bites. Maybe I've been missing out on connecting with another way that God reveals Himself.

I'm not sure where this idea will really flesh out in my life. I still do not like heat or bugs but I do need to be connecting with God in all the ways that He would reveal himself to me. What do you think?

The Gift of a Godly Woman?

2008-06-09T15:59:00.000-05:00

Recently the women’s ministry of our church set out to put women to work in the congregation according to their spiritual giftedness. When asked on a survey to list their spiritual gifts, 90% didn’t answer. I was stunned! Did they not know their own giftedness? Were they embarrassed by their gifts? In conversations that followed this survey, women made the most astounding statements regarding their own spiritual giftedness. One woman stated that she had been taught that only men had spiritual gifts; women had talents. Another woman stated that she didn’t have any spiritual gifts; she just did whatever needed to be done. Yet another stated that she was afraid to tell people her gift because it wasn’t “lady-like”.

Each of these women pursues the same question from a different point of view: are godly women a gift to their congregations? Experience teaches unforgettable lessons and these women have been very good students. They discovered that they were a liability, not an asset, in their giftedness. Consequently, these women have shut down their attempts to use their gifts completely.

The Pattern
Our home was once just a house to me. It was a foundation with walls and floors. The furniture inside belonged to someone else as did the experiences within. Now, the walls are colors that I love. I remember painting them in the wee hours of the morning. The floors are materials that I had a part in choosing. I remember the sweat that went into installing them. There have been meaningful or funny events in every room in our home. Those memories are ours. These layers of meaning have added richness to my understanding of this structure we call home. It is no longer just an architectural establishment; it is a creation of love, time, and personality.

This discussion of women in our churches is the same way. While our heritage teaches us to say, and believe, that we only look at the Bible for our guidance in church life, it’s not always true. Current culture and centuries of history influence how we understand the Bible’s teachings on any given subject. Whether or not we recognize it, we are products of the world we live in.

Our current culture spotlights workplace gender equality efforts. Nightly news programs tell us that the glass ceiling women once faced is more like cellophane now. Pay scales are leveling out. Human resource managers proudly describe their family leave plans for both men and women. In other words, if men and women work the same, they are equal.

History’s attempts at gender equality center on the feminist movement. Women’s suffrage and reproductive rights have been aggressively pursued in the United States. Now the feminist movement has turned its attention to other countries for the battle here is well in hand. After all, there is a woman who is a legitimate force in the race for president!
Restoration churches, on the whole, have fought against this tide of change. While our women joined the workforce, they haven’t been invited to join the kingdom workforce with all they have to offer. In fact, most churches have created women’s ministries as a place for women to minister to other women. In theory, a great idea! But the motivation behind that idea is questionable. Are churches actually trying to avoid the question of gender equality by segregating men and women?

Modern history has tried to redeem the concept of gender equality by focusing on the feminist movement. Culture has tried to redeem the concept of gender equality by focusing on the workplace. Restoration churches have yet to offer their redemption to the concept of gender equality. Does the church have a responsibility to redeem the idea? The answer isn’t clear cut or well defined. However, for too long we have refused to ask the question because the answers seem too complicated. I don’t intend to offer answers here as they would just scratch the surface. Instead, I want to examine the influencing factors that make up the questions.

Biblical History
The Old Testament portrays women as property of their husbands, as was to be expected by the culture. They are excluded from Yahweh’s worship when they are unclean every month. While Jewish worship in New Testament times is even more rigid in its attempts to keep women separate in worship, Jesus doesn’t always respect those partitions. He engages women in spiritual conversation on multiple occasions and welcomes Mary as a disciple at his feet.

The New Testament church seems to have struggled with this concept a great deal. There was no LAW to tell them how worship should be done. Jewish Christians drew from their temple experiences. Recent pagan converts drew from their own worship. There were deities represented as women in their worship and women were part of public pagan worship. Usually, that involvement was sexual. Perhaps God, in His great wisdom, wished to protect women from such exploitation in the name Christianity.

Both Jewish and pagan influences held sway over the churches described in our New Testament. I believe that Paul did his best to offer advice on balancing the two with God always in focus. However in today’s reading, Paul’s teachings on women are inconsistent at best and downright confusing at worst! To one church, he tells women to be quiet always. To another, he reminds women to cover their heads when participating in worship. When we are trying to be the New Testament church, which instruction do we follow?

Current Church Culture
Restoration churches love a good idiosyncrasy. Women can stand on a stage as part of praise team but not pray aloud in front of a man. Women can teach a bible class for teenagers but not adults. Women can serve potluck dinners but not distribute a communion tray. It seems that we have developed a culture of norms that confuses an outsider. If we were really honest with ourselves, we might admit our own confusion! Many churches seem to have created the idea that women’s ministry is the answer to gender equality. While ministry to women by other women is valid and needed, it does little to alleviate the tension.

A woman may be the CEO of a corporation but she may not offer her expertise in efficient management to a church. A woman may be a professor of Jewish history but she may not present in a Bible class. A woman may be a professional speaker but may not share her testimony with the church. These are such strong contrasts to one another that it stands to reason that one perception is mistaken. Is it that culture is wrong? Or could it be that the church has refused to wrestle with the question of gender equality?

Redemption is the business of God. He sent His son to redeem humankind back into relationship with Him. The church is now the hands and feet of that mission. We have been given this mission of reconciliation, bringing the world back to its originally intended order. Does that include gender equality?

The Problem
Life in the restoration movement has been very challenging for me. I have struggled to find a “home”. You know that elusive place where you are safe to be all that you really are and to share all that you long to become. As a woman in the churches of Christ, I have felt that being gifted wasn’t really a gift at all. My gifts seem to cause strife either to myself or to the church at large. I have spent a lifetime wondering if I was mistaken about my giftedness; maybe these are just things that I am good at for the purpose of making a living.

I am a woman in the church of Christ. I was born and raised in the churches of Christ. I graduated from a church of Christ college. I married a church of Christ minister. I currently attend a church of Christ. I bring my children to that same church of Christ. I understand the rich heritage, and the ugly baggage, that comes with the name church of Christ. I live in the church of Christ world, with all of its complexities. I love church, as God’s choice of instrument in the world, and give my life to her mission. I respect the past to learn from it. I long for the future where God is King of His people again. I live in the present seeking choices that bring about that future. I have committed my life to restoration churches and their desire to be the kingdom of God right here and right now. I am in need of redemption.

The Shack

2008-05-20T21:19:00.002-05:00

I think I have a new favorite book. It is "The Shack" by William P. Young and I read it in about six hours. I was completely fascinated by it. While the book is fiction, I marked page after page of profound ideas about God and relationship with him.

The premise is that a man who is hurting and in a deep depression gets a letter from God inviting him to a meeting at the source of his pain, a physical location. The God who meets him there surpasses and changes all of the man's preconceived, small ideas about religion and relationship.

I could quote you pages and pages from this book but I would rather you read it and tell me what you think. Or, come to book club next week and talk about it with us!

The Vulnerability of Innocence

2008-05-13T13:28:00.000-05:00

I was driving the children home from small group one night when I overheard the following conversation between my daughters.

4 year old: Knock, knock

6 year old: Who’s there?

4 year old: Hannah Montana

6 year old: Hannah Montana, who?

4 year old: Bough, bough! (yelled at the top of her lungs to imitate an electric guitar)
Giggle! Giggle!
Did that make sense?

6 year old: No

4 year old: Well, laugh anyway! Ha! Ha! Ha!

6 year old: Okay! Ha! Ha! Ha!

As I tried to keep a straight face and stop myself from wondering when knock, knock jokes will lose their appeal, I marveled at the transparency that children show. At first I thought, “Wow! She is so secure in herself that she would ask if that made sense. She worships her older sister and never wants to show weakness. Good for her!”

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she didn’t know that was weakness. Innocence protected her from recognizing that her question would show insecurity. She really just wanted to know if that was a good joke! (Maybe your children are smarter than mine, but they just don’t get what makes a good knock, knock joke yet.)

I long to be that innocent again. I want to ignore my filter when I need honest feedback. Do you know what I mean? That voice that tells you to stop and figure it out later or just stuff it altogether. I want to allow myself to be vulnerable enough to let people see the good, the bad, and the ugly about me! I want to find commonalities in insecurities and seek other’s wisdom in overcoming them.

There are times when I really wish that my children had filters in place. You know, when my six year old tells me that I have a fat tummy. Or when my four year old tells me that the boo-boo (zit) on my nose is really big. But, they are honestly reporting the world from their point of view.

Where is the healthy boundary between filtering what we say to be polite and losing track of honesty altogether? Where is the healthy boundary of being vulnerable without vomiting your stuff all over people? What do you think?

Rain

2008-05-06T09:24:00.002-05:00

I actually wrote this last summer but with the weather in North Texas this week, it seemed appropriate...

After a year of intense drought with record breaking high temperatures, a rainy summer day should have been welcome. After all, it was cool for July and the grass was still green everywhere. However, when I had to tell my kids one more time that we couldn’t swim because it was raining, again, I realized that I was tired of rain.

It was just such a rainy day when I was attempting to load all three of my children into their car seats after day camp when the bottom dropped out of the sky. I got soaked as I fastened little seatbelts.

My mood could have been described as ‘less than cheery’ when I climbed into the driver’s seat. I started the car to the usual chorus of requests for favorite children’s CDs. I refused in my grumpiness and insisted on listening to the radio station of my choice. The rain pounded us and the streets were rivers of rushing water. Flash flooding had been a real danger all summer and I grew anxious about our drive home. I turned the radio up to help me calm down. The DJ said something about a tranquil song and I looked forward to his voice ceasing to speak and the tranquility beginning. Did I mention that I was grumpy?

“Word of God, Speak” began to play. The music itself is very soothing and I was swept away with it, feeling some of my anxiety slip away. Lost in the swelling sounds, my middle child’s voice interrupted my concentration.

“Mommy! He said rain. It’s raining here, too.”

He said rain? I missed it. I acknowledged her, with no conviction, but determined to pay attention to the words. Here is what I heard,

“Word of God speak.
Won’t you pour down like rain?
Washing my eyes to see your majesty.
To be still and know that you’re in this place.
Please let me stay and rest in your holiness.”

Could the word of God truly pour down like rain? Like sheets of rain that fall from the sky so fast that rivers and streams form in streets? Could God’s presence so overwhelm a place? Could the words of God soak me?

I was overwhelmed. I’ve been in church all my life and taught to answer that certainly God could do such a thing. But my experience denies it. I have never felt washed over in the words of God like that rain was falling. I have never swum through God’s revelation. In fact, I feel pretty dry most of the time.

“Why?” I wondered to myself, “Are the writers of these words just making a pretty song? Has God failed? Or do I just expect so little of Him?”

Most of the time, I expect God to be more like humidity. You just endure it because you have to. Humidity becomes oppressive and stifling. It leaves you feeling sticky and as if you need a shower. Moisture seeps through clothing and even skin, leaving your entire being feeling wet. God can just be absorbed and then cleaned off.

Just a few short days later it had been raining again and I had the rare opportunity to spend time with just one of my kids. My middle one and I went to the library determined to stock up on enough good books and movies to keep us entertained on a rainy day. As I unloaded her from the car, she asked if we could splash in the puddles. Why not? We were both wearing flip flops and our feet would dry quickly. We splashed all the way to the doors. By the time we arrived at the entrance of the library we were soaked up to our knees and laughing out loud!

We carefully chose our books and movies and placed them in a plastic sack. As we walked to the doors, I realized that it was pouring. Great. We were going to get soaked because I had not brought in an umbrella.

“Mommy! Let’s dance in the rain!” my daughter yelled excitedly, in the library entrance.

Really? I confess that I didn’t want to but we were having such a good time together that day that I agreed. I got another plastic sack to cover the top of our book sack and out we went. We twirled and splashed. We jumped and laughed. We sang rain songs. We even ended up barefoot for awhile.

My daughter never once worried that her makeup would run (she doesn’t wear any) or that her hair would look funny wet. It never crossed her mind to be concerned that her clothes would get dirty or that she would be cold on the car ride home. She just danced. And sang. And played.

As I reflect on these moments, I realize that I shy away from God’s pouring presence because I am afraid of what the consequences will be. I don’t want to have my makeup run in front of others. I don’t want muddy feet to track up the floor. I don’t want to be uncomfortably wet and cold.

I don’t trust the pouring out of God’s word. I keep it away from me. I stand inside and watch it rain. I feel the humidity but I won’t jump in the water. I stop the pouring out by protecting myself from it. Any mist I feel sends me running indoors; I protect myself in the busyness of my life from feeling that rain.

What would happen if I had the courage to step out and splash in the outpouring of God’s word? Scripture promises us that all of creation sings of his presence. His word is pouring down. Will we stay indoors or will we dance in response?

Word of God, speak.
Won’t you pour down like rain?
Washing my eyes to see your majesty
To be still and know, that you’re in this place.
Please let me stay and rest in your holiness.
Word of God, speak.
By Mercy Me

Epiphanies

2008-04-22T10:23:00.002-05:00

It's been a week of breakthrough ideas for me. It is a little intimidating to write about them as they may be "Well, duh!" to you but I'm going to do it anyway!

1. God cares about our financial burdens. I know that scripture promises that God cares for the birds and flowers. I believe that but I always assumed that God despised our modern money system and wouldn't move in it. Did God really care how much MRI's cost and that vans need new transmissions? Yes, He does. Why? Because He loves His people and His people have to be aware of those things.
2. Grace is big; really, really, really big! I've hinted on this blog about my family's financial fears. Here is the reality: we are in a sinking ship. For all of our attempts to be good stewards and responsible with what we have been blessed with, this boat is going down. There is nothing we can do but bail water. Sometimes we can bail fast enough that it looks like we might save the thing but really, there is no chance. Boats with holes in them don't stay afloat. This week, a yacht picked us up and sailed us to safety. That's grace. I got to witness it firsthand when God moved in a way that I could never have expected, prayed for, or imagined. He rescued us through faithful servants.
3. God is living and active. He moves through His people in ways that defy logic and reason. I wonder about all the times that God wanted to move through my hands, feet and words but I denied Him the opportunity. Father, forgive me. Thank you for epiphany #2 when I realize how many times I have failed at epiphany #3. Thank you for those who recognize your promptings and act.
4. The fear of money can be idolatry. When thoughts of drowning in a sea of debt control my waking, and sleeping, thoughts, I am worshipping money. Not because I love it but because I have let it have power over me.

So am I Captain Obvious today?

I'm a proud momma

2008-04-04T10:15:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, Chad and I went with Raemey to a lunch honoring her as the outstanding citizen from her school. A local service organization honors students that are brought to their attention by teachers. Her teacher nominated her by writing this letter:

"Raemey Higgins is an incredible example of a young citizen. Although she is only six, Raemey possesses many admirable qualities that make her an excellent role model for other students and even adults. Raemey has a kind and genuine heart. She is always courteous and cooperative with all of the students in our class. Because she is an ideal role model, the counselor has asked Raemey to join her several times when she is working with other students on how to be a good friend. Raemey is also a very smart student who consistently puts forther her best effort everyday. Without even asking, Raemey is always willing to help others. Whether it is helping another student with their work or helping soneone else clean up their center, she always has a smile on her face. That sweet smile has brought so much joy to myself and other staff members everyday this year. Depite having Achondroplasia, Raemey is very independent. She has a very strong sense of self confidence that helps her overcome challenges she faces due to her height. Raemey's family is actively invovled in their church. When Raemey is working, it is very sweet to hear her quietly sing Christian songs. She has a very strong Christian faith that she displays each and every day. I am very blessed to have the opportunity to be Raemey's teacher this year. She has truly touched my heart in a very special way that I will never forget. Raemey Higgins is the perfect example of a young citizen. "

There are so many reasons that I am proud of Raemey. I'm proud of her intelligence and beauty. But I am bursting that she is salt and light in her school. Her actions bring glory to the Father and I am honored that I get to live with her.

Thank you, Mrs. Hass for loving our baby. Thank you for seeing beyond the size of her legs to see the size of her heart!

Springtime

2008-03-31T21:17:00.002-05:00

Almost 5 years ago, my husband’s birthday fell on Easter weekend. For a minister, there couldn’t be worse timing! I began seeking a way to make his birthday meaningful in the midst of all the busyness of Easter season.

At that time in our lives, we celebrated a Seder meal on the Saturday night before Easter with some of our closest friends. Seder is the Jewish Passover feast. These friends introduced me to the idea of a Christian celebration of Passover. It became one of the most meaningful events in my year. Traditional Seder is a family celebration around the dinner table. The story of the Passover is told through the symbols of food. These friends were our family in that city and I told them about my desire to honor my husband’s birthday. We all decided that Seder was a great time to do it. Bob, one of our friends, set himself to researching Jewish birthday traditions in the spirit of Seder.

He discovered a Jewish tradition of claiming a Psalm each year. In fact, the tradition states that your age is the number Psalm that is yours for the year. You meditate on it, love it and wrestle with it for a year. The moment for my husband was beautiful, affirming and meaningful! Just what I was hoping for.

The unexpected part of that moment was that I have claimed that tradition for my own. Each year I rest in “my Psalm” for an entire year. I think I might have mentioned that I turned 30 back in February. While I was not dreading that birthday at all, the 8 weeks since have been a nightmare! Because of all that has gone on in our lives during that time, I had not had time to claim my Psalm.

Please don’t misunderstand me. There is not a sacred ceremony to claiming it or anything. But I do like to have a quiet moment to read it for the first time that it is mine. I want to savor the first time I read those words as my own and wonder about all God will do in the next year of my life. I finally had my moment on Sunday.

My soul has been feeling like my yard and flower beds look: like winter. The grass is dead and brown, still waiting for warmer weather to wake it up. The only things living in the yard are fire ants! My flower bed is empty of meaningful blooms and full of nasty weeds. I am in need of spring. I long for warmth to return to my heart. I want the weeds gone and beautiful spring blooms to fill my mind. I desperately desire to shake off winter and welcome new growth.

Here is my Psalm for the year. Feel free to make it yours if you can feel the sun in its words and a warm wind in the movement of phrases.

Psalm 30
1 I will exalt you, O LORD,
for you lifted me out of the depths
and did not let my enemies gloat over me.

2 O LORD my God, I called to you for help
and you healed me.

3 O LORD, you brought me up from the grave;
you spared me from going down into the pit.

4 Sing to the LORD, you saints of his;
praise his holy name.

5 For his anger lasts only a moment,
but his favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.

6 When I felt secure, I said,
"I will never be shaken."

7 O LORD, when you favored me,
you made my mountain stand firm;
but when you hid your face,
I was dismayed.

8 To you, O LORD, I called;
to the Lord I cried for mercy:

9 "What gain is there in my destruction,
in my going down into the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it proclaim your faithfulness?

10 Hear, O LORD, and be merciful to me;
O LORD, be my help."

11 You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

12 that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.

Wrestling

2008-03-25T16:46:00.000-05:00

My son has taken to wrestling us for items that we try to take away before he is ready. In all fairness, he’s 17 months old. However, I didn’t get the memo that third children start the terrible two’s at 16 months old!

Last night after dinner, he was sitting at the kitchen table coloring. It is his new favorite thing to do. When it was time to go get a bath, he refused to give up the marker. Instead, he screamed, held the marker close to his chest and shook his whole body in a resounding “NO!!” Wow. That was fun.

Later that night I found myself in a very similar situation. Except this time, I was the child instead of the parent. As I lay down to sleep last night, I became very aware of how precarious life is. I don’t just mean life and death, I mean this experience we call life. For instance, our oldest has an MRI on Thursday. Her neurosurgeon will be checking her spine for compression points. If he finds any, she will face another surgery. She has already undergone four surgeries in her short six years of life. Our minivan, the hub of any large family’s existence, is dying a slow, painful but sure death. We really can’t afford to replace it but fixing it is like putting a band-aid on a tumor.

Just two examples of what was running through my head last night. As I lay there, I began wrestling with God about them. He says to trust Him with those things. He even has the audacity to tell me not to worry or be anxious in anything. How can a mother not worry about the health of her child? How can I not worry about our precarious financial situation? Life is fragile.

But instead of calmly laying those matters at the throne, I fought for them. I would be less of me if I turned them over. I pride myself on my ability to juggle a thousand china plates at a time without breaking a one. But in truth, I feel so overwhelmed by their weight.

I can’t comprehend a life without worry or anxiety. It seems to me that would be heaven. Can a human really live without worry?

I was thinking about Jacob and how he wrestled with God. To be honest with you, I always wondered why. It seems to be such a weird story to me. Who could possibly expect to win a wrestling match with God?

Today, it doesn’t seem so strange. I may not limp, but there sure are dark circles under eyes.

Princess

2008-03-17T08:47:00.000-05:00

Being the mother of girls is a chance to revisit joys of my own childhood. I love to play dress up! Now I get to play alongside my own children. My girls love to change clothes over and over becoming one character and then another. Their favorite dress up game involves becoming a princess. Chose any Disney princess and they have accumulated articles necessary to become that lucky girl.
First, the appropriate ball gown is chosen. It is complete with sequins and tulle. Next, the perfect shoes must be chosen. The best are the plastic imitation glass slippers. A most important piece follows and that is the crown. We have many to choose from in different colors and styles. All are made with rhinestones and plastic painted silver or gold. One cannot forget the matching plastic and rhinestone jewelry. Finally, the newly created princess proceeds to the throne in the playroom. The throne is a beanbag chair with the faces of princesses on it. The princess takes her seat. She smiles from ear to ear to reveal precious baby teeth. Orders are given with the wave of a scepter and loyal subjects quickly follow them. Sometimes such power is taken advantage of as orders are given to bring out the play makeup as well. These orders are usually followed by sheepish grins and a chorus of, “Please, Mommy!” that is sung in at least six syllables.
There are times when I smile at imagination gone wild. I’ll give in and pull out from the unreachable shelf a case of makeup. Bright green, blue, and purple eye shadows are applied with fingers to all areas of the face. Lip gloss is smeared in thick layers and sometimes even highlights teeth. Body glitter is rubbed from head to toe. It brings out subtle color changes even in hair.
One could say that they are just being girls. And I suppose there is truth to that. Little girls love to dress up. I don’t think that desire ever goes away. Big girls may not have the opportunity to put on their princess dresses very often but we sure enjoy a good makeover. Cosmetic counters and beauty salons rely on that yearning to stay in business. And when we can’t have a makeover ourselves there is always a good makeover show on TV. We can watch others makeover their wardrobes, their makeup, their hair, or even their homes.
The problem with these makeovers is that they leave us incomplete. Soon a new look becomes old. That perfect outfit that made us feel so beautiful looses its power. The roots begin to show again and our bangs need a trim. THE color yesterday is outdated today. Our makeovers are an endless race to achieve the impossible.
God did the original makeover show. Makeovers are His business. He eradicates our poor attempt at princess attire and clothes us with robes of purple. He takes off our tacky, play makeup and replaces it with true beauty. He removes our fake dollar store jewelry and adorns us with grace. He combs out the rat’s nest we have created in our hair until it is smooth and shiny. He does away with our rhinestone and plastic tiara to crown us with His righteousness.

“I delight greatly in the LORD;
My soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation
And arrayed me in a robe of righteousness,
As a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest,
And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.”
Isaiah 61:10

Truth in Worship

2008-03-10T15:48:00.002-05:00

Do you ever find yourself suddenly wondering about the words to a song that you have been singing in church for years? That has happened to me twice in the last few weeks. Both of them were centering around the same idea. Here are the lyrics, "And we sing glory, honor, power and strength to the Lord." "Power and majesty, praise to the king." "Praise and glory, wisdom and thanks, honor and power and strength...Be to our God forever and ever."

So here is what I have been wondering: do I actually have these things to give to God? Can my singing those words make them true? Do I have power or strength or wisdom to bless God with? And even if I did have those things to present as a gift, does God need them? Isn't He already all of those things without my "wishing" them to Him? I realize that all of these songs are quoting Scripture and that is one of the main reasons we sing them. But, that doesn't answer my questions. Even when the elders in heaven are singing these words around the throne, do they have those things to give to the Lamb?

I'm not trying to be difficult or obnoxious in my questions. I desire truth. I want to offer God praise that I can "back up", so to speak. After all, who would want to write God a hot check? I love each of the songs above and love how I feel when I sing them. I desire for God to have and be all of the things described. But, am I the one who can offer them to Him? If not, can I sing those songs with a clear conscious? What do you think?

I repent!

2008-03-03T09:18:00.003-06:00

It's been a month, I think, since I wrote here! I'm so sorry. I don't have a brillantly horrible story to tell you about why I haven't written. I just haven't. Here are some brief updates from the last month.

I turned 30. On Ash Wednesday. Does the irony catch anyone else?

I had one the worst stomach bugs of my life. 'Nough said.

I was honored to speak at a retreat for wonderful women from Sonrise church in Gainseville, TX. It was a joy to be with them.

This weekend I am home with what I think is the flu. My two girls have gotten sick as well. I kept the kids home from church yesterday. When Chad came home (with fast food) we had "family church". It looked like this: I was lying on the couch with chills. Chad and all three kids were crammed on the love seat with Bible storybooks surrounding them. He must have read 10 as they sat there and the girls just ate up that time with their daddy. It was a sweet a moment to witness. Then they sang songs to God. My husband is a gifted worship leader and I am so often amazed at God pouring out through him. But, seeing him scrunched on a love seat with our children and praising God with them brought tears to my eyes. Chad's gifts bless 1,500 people every Sunday morning. But yesterday, I was so honored that we are on this path of life together because I was moved at his tenderness and joy in sharing praise with our kids.

Highest Place

2008-02-04T13:50:00.000-06:00

Have you ever heard that poem about giving everything to Jesus? You know…offer him your spouse, your kids, your job, your house, etc? After you truly give those things to him, he will give them back to you as his gift. I understand what the author was trying to teach: everything in our lives is a gift from God. But I think maybe there should have been another part of that poem.

The stanza that talks about loving your spouse as a reflection of God. The line that says that caring for your children well is a service to God. The idea that your job is a way to connect with people who may not know God. Or, this one stings, that maintaining your home is good stewardship.

Yesterday in church we sang, “Highest Place”. It is a beautiful song talking about placing Jesus, the great High Priest, at the top of our lives. As I sang and listened, I wondered how one really does that. I can’t sit around and meditate on the goodness of God all day or my children will go hungry. I can’t single-mindedly pray all day or I won’t get any work done. Jesus in the highest place of my life colors how I do all the things I do in a day.

Here’s an example: Monday mornings are hard at my house. They probably are at yours, too. Monday’s are not fun here because our oldest goes back to kindergarten after a weekend of watching cartoons and playing a lot. She is usually running late on Monday mornings and a little grumpy. Our middle one woke up ready for a fight this morning because her older sister gets to go to kindergarten while she is stuck home with mom. The baby is always tired on Mondays because Sundays are just hard on little ones. My husband is worn out on Mondays because Sunday is his hardest day. I was staring at a week that I had to hit the diet hard again and knowing that I turn 30 in just two days. Now if I had woken up with Jesus in the highest place:
Working out could have become a time of worship; honoring the temple that His Spirit is housed in.
Motivating a kindergartener could have been about calling on her God given ability to learn and connect with others.
Disciplining a four year old could have been about lovingly shaping a strong will to better reflect God.
Cuddling a tired baby could have been about administering grace.
Encouraging a tired husband could have been about respecting the rhythms of Sabbath and work.

I need Jesus in my highest place because I fail miserably without him there.

Longing for More

2008-01-29T09:51:00.000-06:00

I have a new favorite book and it is by an author that I have loved for a while now. "Longing for More" by Ruth Haley Barton is a discussion of women's spiritual transformation. While there a lot of great books out there about spiritual formation, I love this one for several reasons.
1. Ruth describes transformation as a journey that takes place along the path of life. So, it is spiritual transformation to learn to be a wife or mother. It is spiritual formation to learn to love your own body. Ruth embraces the idea that the spiritual disciplines are to help us find the significance in living life as it is laid before us.
2. Ruth devotes one chapter to the role of women in the church. Her scholarship is outstanding but I like what she says because it is born of her own experiences. (If you pick this book up, make sure and read the endnote about 1 Timothy. I learned so much!)
3. In the last chapter, Ruth summarizes the entire book in a way that I have always felt but never been able to articulate. The reason we have to talk about why women should be transformed is that we are trying to be like Jesus. Ruth is not advocating a feminist movement within the church because that is all about women. She is saying that women are called to be like Jesus and their paths have been blocked by some old ideas. It is time that the church be the advocate of all of their members being transformed into the image of Jesus.

Amen!

The Temple

2008-01-21T20:12:00.000-06:00

We live in a compartmentalized society. It is considered wise to keep our lives and our thoughts in seperate containers. Seperate church and state. Family and work don't mix. The physical and the spiritual are not supposed to impact one another. I have bought into this thinking in many little ways.

One of the big ways I have bought into it is in my body image. I have believed that what I think about my body does not matter to God. God is concerned with the heart, not the body. Right? Well...my body is the temple of God. Doesn't that matter to Him? I don't think He cares if I have a perfect figure or clear skin. But, does He care if I honor my body? Does it matter to Him if I loathe my reflection?

Yes, I think it does matter to Him. You know what else? I think that most women focus on what they dislike about their appearance. I have talked to many friends about this lately. Every one of them could tell me what they disliked about their body. Many of their complaints centered around weight and the desire to airbrush one location. My five year old came home and asked if she could get highlites in her hair. She's five. She said that a girl in her kindergarten class got them and she wanted them too. I said no. My four year old told me that she wanted to wear makeup to school all the time because it makes her prettier. I said no.

Here's what I know intellectually and am wrestling with emotionally: the images I see on television and in magazines are not real. I am created in the image of God and I believe that embodies the physical too. Why can't I live like I believe it?

Do you think about this stuff too?

Reading Like a Writer

2008-01-14T20:40:00.000-06:00

I am an avid reader. Reading is like water to me; it is required to stay alive. When I am reading, I travel wherever the book takes me. I have been known to read while eating, bathing and, I’m embarrassed to admit, driving. I just love it!

I am also an aspiring writer. It is a lifelong dream that got new wind blown in it about a year ago. So, I set a goal to read one book a month that will help me become a better writer. I’ve a read some really good books by really great authors. They share their secrets of the trade with people like me who only dream of doing this for a true living.

In that mindset, I picked up Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose. The title sounded perfect for someone like me. Even the author’s name seemed prosaic! I was ready to love it.

Ms. Prose took me by surprise. Rather than applauding readers like me who devour books in hours not days, she chastised my reading habits! Ms. Prose preached that writers should read like anorexic’s eat. Each word should be carefully separated and chewed on until all the flavor has been sucked out. Then those fully chewed words should be connected together in a flavorless string to seek the meaning behind them. I got hungry just reading it!

Perhaps I am alone in this deal but I read for the escape of it. I read to learn of a life or place or story that I do not have access to in my own world. I read to connect to someone else’s narrative and experience. I do not read to pick them apart calorie by calorie! I read like a recent dieter at Thanksgiving dinner. I read to soothe emotions and fill up empty places. I gorge myself until I can hold no more. Then, I explode in a torrent of words myself…usually on the page!

To be fair to Ms. Prose, I haven’t quite finished her book. I’ll keep plugging through but I have to tell you, it’s not a Chinese buffet! In fact, I think it is a Lean Cuisine frozen stir fry…sodium free.

The Park

2008-01-10T10:19:00.000-06:00

My kids love to play at the park. Just this week we went to a park close to our house. The equipment is normal playground kind of stuff. There are some monkey bars, a few swings, three slides, and some great lookout points. There is even a merry go round! What makes this park unique is it’s setting. On one side is a lake, home to ducks, swans, and geese. On another side is a waterpark and swimming pool. The other two sides are surrounded by streets and homes. To carve out the playground, there are blue Lincoln log barriers in the ground. They are bolted together to form the perimeter of two kidney beans smashed together. The Lincoln logs also hold in all the mulch that pads the ground for little feet to walk on.

At our visit to this park, I was so amused watching my kids and their reactions to the barriers. I told both my four year old and my one year old that outside the blue line was “No-no”. The areas surrounding this park could be dangerous and I wanted them to stay inside the lines. Being a toddler, my one year immediately put one foot up on top of the barrier and looked back at me to see if that was alright. I said, “No,” and he stepped back. Then he went to another section of the barrier and tried again. I repeated my no and he moved on. For twenty minutes he tried new places to see if the answer changed. Twenty minutes in the life a one year old is a long time! In that twenty minutes he missed playing to continually test the rules.

My four year old is a little different. She is, without a doubt, my strong willed child. But today she watched the antics of her little brother while she played on the slides. When he finally moved on to trying to eat the mulch, she was ready to make her move. She is pretty afraid of the geese that live on the lake because they are so loud. So, she didn’t want to go that way. She knew that the waterpark was closed so that didn’t really interest her either. Instead, she saw a basketball goal in a driveway across the street. She loves basketball. While I was busy pulling mulch out of the baby’s mouth, she worked her way across the playground equipment and got a huge thrust going down the slide that faces the basketball goal. That was enough to put her just beyond the barrier and she made a dash for the basketball goal. I caught her with one foot in the street.

If my five year old had been there, she would have never even tried out the barriers. She would have played on anything she could reach. Her only glance would have been in fear toward the swan, who charged her one time! She might have mentioned that she wanted to go the waterpark again this summer.

Each of them sees those blue Lincoln logs differently. One as a test. One as a dare and one as a wall. I’m sure there are some really deep parallels to draw here about how we should be content with the space God gives us or how we should view obstacles in our path.

I’m happy if one of those lessons speaks to you. I’m content to marvel at how different each of my three blessings are.

Lessons from Santa

2007-12-26T09:29:00.000-06:00

My most cherished memories from Christmas’ of my childhood involve Santa. My parents worked hard to make the magic come alive for my brother and I. Later, when my sisters arrived, it was a family effort to create the magic for them.

In recent years, the dream of Santa has come under attack. Many Christians don’t want their kids to confuse Santa with God and somehow leave God when they outgrow Santa. I don’t want to debate with you; I like to debate but it seems like a futile argument to me.

At my house, we believe in Santa. We write letters to Santa. We know that Santa watches for good boys and girls. We put out cookies and milk. We put carrots on the deck for the reindeer. We move the fireplace screen to leave room for Santa to get in. We actively believe in Santa.

This year I really had to evaluate why believing in Santa was important. There are members of our family who do not teach their children to believe in Santa and can be pretty mocking of our doing so. Our oldest has become very particular and detailed oriented. We had to be so very careful to keep her belief alive.

She asked Santa to bring her cowgirl boots, a cowgirl hat and a turquoise cowgirl vest. Now I am a pretty resourceful shopper and love to bargain hunt. I looked all over and found the cutest boots and hat to actually fit her little clover shaped head. But no matter where I shopped, there was no finding a turquoise cowgirl vest. I found pink leather and brown cowhide. But no turquoise. Oh and did I mention that she came up with this request on December 19th? I had 6 days…

Believing in Santa is partly about trusting your dreams to someone else to see if they can come true. My daughter communicated a dream to me and it was my responsibility to make it a reality. In doing so, I reinforced her ability to have faith. So, two days before Christmas I made a vest out of turquoise bandanas and pink beads. I don’t enjoy sewing nor am I good at it. But, I finished it on the afternoon of Christmas Eve.

On Christmas morning, I emerged from my room to begin breakfast and found both of my daughters tearing into Santa’s gift in the dark. I yelled! I screamed! I was so mad at them that I sent them to their room. In examining the carnage after they left, I found that they had opened everything that Santa had brought to them, their brother, my husband and even me. I wasn’t mad because they had woken up early. I was mad because I had missed that moment. I had missed seeing their faith reinforced. I had missed the sheer joy of finding your dreams fulfilled.

This year Santa taught me to believe in the power of forgiveness. After a just punishment, we all had to forgive each other and move on to cherish Christmas together. It was hard for me because I was still grieving the loss of that moment. It was hard for the girls because they were really mad at me for wrecking their fun. But, having faith in someone means forgiving them when they don’t meet your expectations.

We believe in Santa and all the lessons that belief brings with it…

Noel

2007-12-17T20:25:00.000-06:00

I remember the day that each of my children was born. Our oldest was born in the morning after a long, sleepless night. I remember how afraid I was both of giving birth and for her health. She came with a lot of drama as her cord was prolapsed and her heart rate kept dropping. When she was finally laid on my chest, I cried from sheer relief that she was safe.

Our second was also born in the morning. However, there had been no night of long, fearful labor. She came quickly and with much surprise! We fully expected a boy and when she arrived the doctor announced, “She’s here!” My husband and I both turned to look for the newly arrived nurse and the doctor said, “Your daughter, she’s here!” When she was laid on my chest, I cried tears of surprised joy.

Our youngest was born in the afternoon, just one more way to declare his uniqueness! He screamed his way into this world and hasn’t been too quiet since. His delivery felt routine and normal. When he was laid on my chest, I cried tears of peace.

This time of year always gets me thinking about a night, in a stable, so many years ago. A young girl gave birth to her first without the aid of her mother or sisters. Her husband must have felt very shy to be helping her in this way as he had never known her, to use the biblical term.

I always wonder how much she knew as held that baby boy. Did she love him as a child or as a God? Did she see any of her own physical traits in him? Did she truly welcome smelly shepherds as she lay exhausted and cold? How did she define her tears that night? Fear? Relief? Love? Joy?

The wonders of incarnation never cease to amaze me. I attempt to wrap my mind around God as an infant. God needing a diaper change. God hungry. God sleepy. I know infants. I’ve had a few! Really…God as a baby? He wasn’t really God at that moment was he? How could God have been a fetus? An infant? A toddler? A teenager? Flesh on divinity is wondrous and preposterous at the same time!

This time of year wraps me in arms of love; arms that had flesh on them and arms that understand the need for physical comfort. Christmas brings into fresh perspective that there is a love so strong that it would be born in a barn.

Luke 2: 4-7 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

Eat, Pray, Love

2007-12-09T16:37:00.000-06:00

I love to read! I will read a lot of different genres but my favorite is fiction. I love a great story about a character that I relate to in their search for something.

So, I was shocked to LOVE Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert! Nonfiction is often exhausting to me but this book was not a burden to read. It is the spiritual memoir of a woman needing to find answers for her messed up life and broken heart. She pursues answers to the hard questions in the three "I"s: Italy, India and Indonesia.

"Eat" is in Italy where Elizabeth travels to eat great food and learn Italian, a lifelong fantasy. She pursues the gift of pleasure, trying to capture all that we Americans have missed in our effienciency of life.

"Love" is in Bali, Indonesia where Liz pursues balance in her life. Balance of pleasure and discipline. Balance of joy and pain.

But my favorite section is "Pray". Liz is in India, living in an Ashram. She makes some astounding statements regarding faith. Here are three of my favorite quotes.

Saint Augustine said, "Our whole business therefore in this life is to restore to health the eye of the heart whereby God may be seen."

How's your vision these days?

"If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be...a prudent insurance policy." page 175

I wonder if I've been pursuing insurance or faith for all of my life?

"This is what rituals are for. We do spiritual ceremonies as human beings in order to create a safe resting place for our most complicated feelings of joy or trauma, so that we don't have to haul those feelings around with us forever, weighing us down. We all need such places of ritual safekeeping. And I do believe that if your culture or tradition doesn't have the specific ritual you are craving, then you are absolutely permitted to make up a ceremony of your own devising, fixing your own broken-down emotional systems with all the do it yourself resourcefulness of a generous plumber/poet (an inside joke). If you bring the right earnestness to your homemade ceremony, God will provide the grace. And that is why we need a God." page 187

I can't even respond to this one for all that it evokes in me. But I know that I need that grace to reach out to me...all the time.

I hope that you will read this book, not because I liked it or because Oprah said to. Read it because it will challenge you to find a bigger God and a more personal voyage of faith. Let me know when you finish...I want to talk!

Peace

2007-12-03T13:23:00.000-06:00

I love Christmastime! I love a home lit by Christmas trees and outdoor lights. I love the smells of cinnamon apples and baking cookies. I love getting cards and pictures from friends. I love spending time thinking about what gift will bring joy to people that I love.

Yesterday at church we began a series on messianic psalms, the first of which dealt with peace. I don't always associate Christmastime with peacefulness; usually I think of busyness! But, the point was that Jesus came as a peace offering to man. God made his peace with peaople. If the church is to be the hands and feet of Christ, then the church should be the peacemaker of the world. Hmm...

What does that truth say to a church whose history is full of nasty fights and splits? What does that say to us who are so likely to focus inward rather than outward? What does that say? I feel the call to be peace. I want church to be part of that effort. What does that look like? How does it work? Any ideas?

Thankful

2007-11-26T11:26:00.000-06:00

Gratefulness seems to be a lost art. Checkers at the grocery store are astounded by a "Thank you" from customers. The bank teller was floored by my "Thanks for your help today." It seems that we have forgotten the power of being thankful. So today, in tune with the season, I want to be appreciative to the One who has created my life.

I'm thankful for my sweet husband of nine and half years. I'm thankful for our ability to laugh and work together. I'm thankful that we love spending time together. I'm thankful for our partnership in raising our kids.

I'm thankful for all three of my beautiful kids. I'm thankful for their health and vitality, even when its overwhelming. I'm thankful for all the ways they remind me of someone and for all the ways they are unique. I'm thankful their little hearts that already love God.

I'm thankful for my job. I'm thankful that I can help support our family financially while still being a full time mom. I'm thankful for the opportunity to serve and be creatively challenged by what I do professionally.

I'm thankful for our extended family. I'm thankful that they live close enough to see them regularly. I'm thankful for traditions that we share in each holiday season and for new things we do to explore the meaning of Christmas.

I'm thankful for our church. I'm thankful for the way she challenges me to live in community with those that are different. I'm thankful for a place to serve. I'm thankful for a group of people who are concerned with the spiritual health of my family.

I'm thankful for friends. I'm thankful for times to laugh together, shop together, read together. I'm thankful for the chance to be authentic and safe. I'm thankful for similarities and differences to make life richer.

I'm thankful for our home. I'm thankful for a place that is ours. I'm thankful for the lights of Christmas that surround me now. I'm thankful for the memories in every corner of this house.

I'm thankful for the journey called life. I'm thankful for the chance to grow and be changed more into the image of Jesus. I'm thankful for the ups and downs that remind me of where my true home is. I'm thankful for each passing day.

What are you thankful for?

The Gift of a Godly Woman?

2007-11-19T15:22:00.000-06:00

I am currently writing an article by this same title. It is built around these four questions:

1. Are men superior to women?
2. Does Eve's curse still hold true for women?
3. What about the writings of Paul?
4. What should the church of today do with all of this?

I would love your feedback on any of these questions!

7:45pm

2007-11-12T12:38:00.000-06:00

7:45pm is my favorite time of the day. The whole family is upstairs working toward children going to bed. Yes, it's a good thing that they are going to bed! However, that's not why it's my favorite time.

At 7:45, my baby boy is fresh from a bath. We are sitting in his rocking chair in a darkened room. I smell the lavender shampoo in his hair and feel his lotion softened skin. It is the only moment of the day that he is still in my lap. Together we begin to rock and put an end to a busy day.

These brief moments of almost every evening are priceless to me. As he drinks a cup full of milk, I sing. I sing lullabies in the beginning. Very often, his sisters come in wanting to help sing. And so together we sing "Jesus loves Me" and "Jesus Loves the Little Children" and "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and close with "God Made the Big Round Sun". The girls kiss baby brother goodnight and head to brush their teeth. The milk is gone by now and he snuggles closer, laying his head on my shoulder.

I used to stop singing at this point and just rock. But lately, little man has started singing if I don't. So, the concert goes on. I sing whatever God brings to mind. Last night it was songs from church that morning. Often, I sing songs from my days in youth group and at camp; songs that soothe a harried soul with reminders of quieter times. I always end with "Be Still and Know That I am God". I used to sing this song to myself to help me sleep. Now, I whisper these words over my little boy.

Before I lay him down in his bed, I sing a prayer over him. It is his life prayer that God gave me when he was just four months old. All the way to the door I blow kisses to that precious lump of blankets and stuffed animals.

These moments of my day are centering. I have a moment when my only job is to administer grace. And in the process, I receive it as well.

Dying

2007-11-06T10:24:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking a lot about dying. My grandfather passed away on Thursday and we held a graveside service yesterday. Grandpa was 86 and very ready to die. He had been in poor health for years. A week before his death, he decided that was enough of hospitals and doctors. So, he was discharged from the hospital and entered into hospice care. Six days later, after seeing each of his sons, he died peacefully with his wife of 59 years by his side.

Modern medicine has taken some of the dignity out of dying. Grandpa had undergone three by-pass surgeries. They gave him more years to be sure. But the last 2 years of his life were humiliating in many ways. I wonder if there is something to be said for living fewer years with all of our pride in place? Grandpa was a humble man from the beginning. I can't imagine that pride was a strong motivator for him in any area of life. However, he was embarrassed in his last years by his inability to do even the most mundane things for himself.

LIFE. Death is a part of it. But, living should be the most of it! Life should be a plate full of rich food. Sweet and bitter, each relationship and moment brings more fullness to the flavor of another.

I don't really have a point today. I'm just meandering in thought on the questions and fears that plague all of humanity. What about you?

Catch the Moon

2007-10-23T11:30:00.000-05:00

When each of my children were tiny, we would recite these words together...

It’s time to go night-night baby. Hold me close.
Sweet baby, do you see the moon? Can you catch the moon?
Who can catch the moon?
Can Daddy catch the moon?
No, Daddy can't catch the moon.
Can an airplane catch the moon? Can a spaceship catch it?
No, they can’t catch it.
Can the mountains catch the moon? Can the trees?
No, they can't catch it.
Can birds or butterflies catch the moon?
No, they can’t catch it.
Who can catch the moon, baby?
That’s right! God can.
Sleep tight, precious baby. God holds the moon and God holds you.

I was thinking about this last night as I began to teach it to our son. What simple truth! Only God can catch the moon and only God can hold us. What a safe place to be!

Retreat

2007-10-15T12:42:00.000-05:00

I did something that I have never, in my entire life, done. I truly rested on Thursday. Do you know what is strange about that? I got so much done!

It was a beautiful day. Crisp and clear. The sun was out and the dew was heavy. I sent everyone off from my house to their various activities for the day and then I went outside. I set blankets in my yard and a CD player on my deck. I brought out my journal and sat down on the blankets. For two hours I listened to quiet, meditative, worshipful music and just sat there. There were two questions that I sought to answer in the time. I was preparing to speak to a group of women the next day and I wanted to know: 1. Is there anything that is keeping me from being your spokesperson, Lord? 2. What do you want me to say?

As I sat and laid there, thoughts would well up and I would seek to categorize them by the two questions. I filled up two journal pages with thoughts on each topic. After the initial time of listening, I started working through the thoughts that had come up. Many were situations that I needed to let go of, either in forgiveness or surrender. Then there were these ideas of what to speak about. I want to be clear that I had already done a lot of work in preparation for these presentations. But, God had some things to add. The time was rich in revelations and affirmations.

By this time the dew on the grass had begun to dry and the sun was beginning to rise over my house casting it's direct rays on the backyard where I lay. I turned on another of my favorite Cd's and lay back down. I stared up into the brilliant blue sky and praised God for all that he had done in me and for me that morning. When it would get too bright, I would close my eyes for a moment and then stare again. Once I opened my eyes to see a monarch butterfly fluttering in the breeze not 5 feet above my head. I watched until it was out of sight. I closed my eyes to offer thanks for such a beautiful view and felt the full warmth of the sun hit my face at that moment. It had broken over the chimney and was blinding in it's brilliance.

The day was overflowing in it's bounty of goodness. I was amazed that God would choose to meet me in such a normal place on such a normal day. Maybe I wasn't normal that day, though.

When have you encountered God?

Junk

2007-10-09T21:05:00.000-05:00

I realized today that my life is like my washing machine. See, our laundry room is just inside our back door. So any time someone walks in or out of the house to the garage, they have to go by the washing machine. What that means is that as we walk in and out of the door, we have a very convenient place to leave stuff.

I have a "once a week" rule about doing laundry. I hate laundry and so I save it all up for one day a week and just get it over with. Usually it's Friday and I do at least 8 loads of laundry.

The combination of the these factors makes for a very messy laundry room. The first twenty minutes of every laundry day begins with sorting all the stuff off of the washer. I have to find where it all goes and put it away so that I can even start the laundry.

My life is a little the same. Junk builds up higher and higher until I wonder where I really am. I'm lost under the rubble, suffocating. As my spirit gasps for air, I ask myself where it all came from. Why didn't I clean up sooner? How do I clean it all off?

How do you clean off?

STRESS

2007-10-02T21:32:00.001-05:00

I am never my best when I am stressed out. None of us are. Right now I have too many big projects going all at once. I find myself unable to concentrate on any one thing because I am always thinking about what else I need to do.

This past weekend we even multitasked birthdays! Our middle daughter turned 4 last week and our son turns 1 on Friday. So, we had both of their parties on the same day to make it more convienent for family. The result? I am so tired that I can hardly move! Here a couple of cute pictures from the weekend. I'll try to do better next week!

100

2007-09-24T09:42:00.000-05:00

My middle daughter turned four yesterday. It is a big deal to turn four! She got to wear a “birthday princess” crown to church. She got to choose the restaurant for lunch. She got to open presents at the restaurant. She got to pick the movie that we watched after a nap. It was her day!

We have seen her growing up a lot lately. She loses control less often and when she does lose it, she get’s it back much more quickly. She is learning the beauty of doing good. She is getting better at being without her older sister at home. She really is growing up.

There is one part of her that doesn’t want to grow up. She still sucks her thumb. Sucking her thumb is her link to comfort when she is sad, scared, or tired. It provides soothing when life is more than she can handle. When used in connection to holding her blankie, sucking her thumb sets the world back on its axis.

On Thursday night, we were in the car and talking about her upcoming birthday. Most kids would be so excited about a birthday. But she said that she didn’t want to turn four. When I asked her why, she responded that she didn’t want to stop sucking her thumb. See, every year as her birthday approaches she says that she will stop sucking her thumb when she is a certain age. Then when her birthday is really here, she just can’t do it! So we talked about it some. I told her that maybe she could try to just suck her thumb in her bed once she turned four. That calmed her down and then she said this, “Mommy, I’ll be a big girl when I turn 100.”

Oh, the wisdom of a child! I could see the wheels turning in that little mind. She recognized her pattern of promising to stop and not being able to. So, she picked the biggest age she could fathom and said she would stop then!

I don’t know about you, but I do this too. I tell myself that I will be more disciplined when XYZ is over or I will stop doing something when I am a certain age. They are all excuses for not facing up to my own inability to stop sinful patterns in my own life. I wonder if I ever truly see these patterns until the consequences catch up with me? You know, I have loved to eat and hated to exercise most of my life. But the pattern didn’t raise any red flags until my clothes were getting tight!

What would happen if I took responsibility for sin before consequences caught up with me? What would happen if I took the time to stop and be aware of my own soul’s reaction to sin? What if those were consequence enough to get my attention? What if I recognized my own helplessness to stop and instead invited in the power of God to change my heart so that my behavior would follow?

Those are hard questions and make me want to say, “Lord, I’ll be a big girl when I turn 100.”

Messy Worship

2007-09-17T10:20:00.000-05:00

Like most, if not all mothers of young children, I look forward to Sundays with mixed feelings. I long to worship, to see adults and talk with them, to think about grown-up stuff, and even to have a reason to get dressed in something that is not intended for finger paint to wash out of. But, Sundays are a challenge too. I dread the possibility of it being one of my children who yells in the middle of the prayer, “I need to go potty!” I shudder at the chance it might be one of my kids who drops their entire container of goldfish on the floor and crushes them into the carpet. There are a host of embarrassing things that can happen at church involving children and every Sunday there is a real risk that one of them will happen in our family.
But, we’ve decided that no matter what humiliating things might happen, we are going to worship. So, we get up at the crack of dawn to have everyone dressed and out the door on time. We drive 25 minutes to get there. We unload all of the stuff that comes with us- everyone’s Bible and sharing money, snacks, water cups, extra clothes (just in case), silent entertainment choices, etc.- and head in.
The Bible class hour flies by. I retrieve my children to hear stories of who wouldn’t sit in circle time to hear the Bible story and then try to piece together the story they learned from the masterpieces that are handed to me. As we make our way to the auditorium, my children break out into a run. Is it because I have cultivated little hearts that love to worship? No. It’s because their daddy is in there and they haven’t seen him since the night before. That’s a very long time to a preschooler! So, in 30 seconds or less they compete with each other to tell Daddy more stories of what might have happened getting ready, driving to church, and in Bible class.
As Chad steps up to begin worship, I try to regain some sense of order. Here’s where the real challenge is set in motion. I want to focus. I want to close my eyes and lose the stresses of the morning and the week. I want to sing and pray and set my mind on holy things. I want to think about God and feel His Spirit touch mine. My children want their snack, want to look at book, want to be held and then get down and then want to be held again. I want to teach them to worship, even with adults. But how can I do that when I’ve forgotten how to worship from lack of practice? It’s a rare Sunday that I don’t feel annoyance rise up in my throat more than once during this ritual. When do I get to worship?
It was on such a Sunday when I was about to lose my patience entirely with my two year old. She was driving me crazy! Her up and down and loud voice were more than I felt able to stand. I just wanted to worship! I felt her tug at my hand again and worked very hard not to roll my eyes at her. I looked down and she pulled me down to her level. She whispered in my ear, “I love you, Mommy!” and gave me a wet, cheese cracker tinged kiss on the cheek. While my irritation subsided immediately, it didn’t occur to me what had really happened until hours later.
I am a person who desires and seeks order. I appreciate things that are neat, clean, and come packaged in easy to carry boxes. I even want time to be appropriated. It takes a lot of effort to get everyone to church on Sunday and I want to soak up every moment of it. I feel cheated from a chance to be with God when I spend a service correcting and hushing my kids. I want them to observe others worshiping and do the same.
But what struck me that Sunday was that worship is messy. If worship is spirit touching spirit as Jesus says in John 4, then is it possible that worship is achieved when the care given my children touches their spirit? If they see Jesus in me as I meet their needs, are they being taught worship by example? Jesus says in Matthew 25 that whatever we do for the least of people is done for Him. I know from years in Sunday School that worship is more than what happens on Sunday mornings in a building. Worship is life lived in step with God; a life that is given in service of the kingdom to the glory of God. I don’t remember any time in scripture that people sat down in pews facing the person of Jesus and sang love songs to Him. Yet, God was glorified in the years Jesus was on the face of the earth. He was glorified, worshipped, in the faithful actions of His son.
Christianity is not neat and clean. We want to be changed in one hour sitting on a Sunday morning wearing our best clothes. That’s not Christianity. I have to stop seeking the perfect “worship” experience only on Sunday mornings. I have to be willing to recognize and accept Spirit touches at any time, even from cheese cracker kisses.

“Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth.” John 4: 23-24

Seasons

2007-09-10T13:36:00.000-05:00

Nicole Nordeman is my all time favorite song writer and singer. Her work exemplifies a woman who has spent time in the presence of God and longs to share her experience. She challenges me and encourages me all at the same time!

I love so many of her songs but today I wanted to talk about “Every Season”. The song is a beautiful story of the changing seasons in our physical world. It is also the story of a spiritual journey through summer and fall, to winter and back to spring. Here, she says it better:

Every evening sky, an invitation
To trace the patterned stars
And early in July, a celebration
For freedom that is ours
And I notice You
In children’s games
In those who watch them from the shade
Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder
You are summer
And even when the trees have just surrendered
To the harvest time
Forfeiting their leaves in late September
And sending us inside
Still I notice You when change begins
And I am braced for colder winds
I will offer thanks for what has been and was to come
You are autumn
And everything in time and under heaven
Finally falls asleep
Wrapped in blankets white, all creation
Shivers underneath
And still I notice you
When branches crack
And in my breath on frosted glass
Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter
You are winter
And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced
Teaching us to breathe
What was frozen through is newly purposed
Turning all things green
So it is with You
And how You make me new
With every season’s change
And so it will be
As You are re-creating me
Summer, autumn, winter, spring

I’m watching summer and fall battle it out today. The cool front that came through last night collided with our warm, humid summer air and created huge thunder storms. It is raining buckets and the clashes of warm and cool air are producing amazing claps of thunder and streaks of lightning. It is a season of change.

I started praying and asking God what season I’m in spiritually. I think it is also a season of change. I feel the clashes in my soul and wonder if others can hear the thunder.

My summer seems to be giving way to autumn as well. What leaves will fall from my tree to make room for new buds? How long will it take for them to die? Does it hurt when they fall or will I be glad to let them go? Will the snow of winter last for months or just days?

I love the physical season of fall. I love the colors and the cooler weather that one can enjoy outside again. I love football games and soup. I love pumpkins and cinnamon scented candles. I love sweaters and fuzzy house shoes. I love fires in the fireplace and hot chocolate. I love fall.

Will I love the autumn of my soul just as much? I’m not sure. Will the colors flash brilliantly before they give way to brown? Will the cooler weather be enjoyable with a sweater? I don’t know what to expect.

What about you? What season do you find yourself in today?

My Magnifica

2007-09-04T20:54:00.000-05:00

My soul magnifies the Lord;
my spirit rejoices within me,
for He has lifted me up.
The Lord has been faithful to see me,
me a simple servant,
me a doubtful slave.
The Lord has heard my cries from the lowest places;
He heard my fear,
He heard my pain.
The Lord is a tender parent to those who seek Him;
He dried my tears,
He soothed my hurt.
The Lord is a mighty general for those who follow Him;
He drove out my enemies,
He brought victory to my home.
The Lord is a gentle healer for those in His care;
He came in the night,
He repaired her need.
The Lord is a brilliant surgeon for those laid open before Him;
He cut out the darkness,
He delivered light.
The Lord is a rock for those who are weary;
He holds firm,
He lifts me up.
The Lord is a patient teacher for those will learn;
He instructs me with love,
He waits for my understanding.
My heart sings praise to the Lord of heaven and earth;
glory to our Savior,
honor to our King.
.

Letting Go

2007-08-27T10:42:00.000-05:00

I sent my baby to kindergarten today. I sent my baby to kindergarten today. I can't believe that I sent my baby to kindergarten today.

What seems unreal about that is that I have to send her tomorrow and the next day and the next. I can let go for one day; in fact, that is pretty nice. But, I have to send her again and again for the next 13 years. And then, well...I can't even think about that.

Parenting is all about letting go. It starts from the moment they are born and have to let go of that umbilical cord. Growing up is a series of "being let go's" that should have us prepared to be adults.

Yesterday at church we talked about moving out of college and realizing that our spiritual food is now our own responsibility. I don't think that I had thought of it in those terms. I don't think that I was ready; I'm not sure that I'm ready now.

I learned how to do laundry, clean a house, drive a car, balance a checkbook (with Quicken), and grocery shop at the heals of my parents. They modeled daily prayer and bible study for me but that lesson didn't sink in as well, for some reason. The importance of it did but not the doing.

What about you? When you were ultimately "let go" what lessons did you realize hadn't sunk in very well? How can I, as a mom, instill those lessons in my children?

In the Spirit?

2007-08-20T09:42:00.000-05:00

I am very nervous writing this entry. My church background does not prepare one to write about being in the Spirit. In fact, most people from my church background aren't even sure what the Spirit is. That ignorance is what prompted this entry. I don't have any answers, just more questions.

John describes himself as being "in the Spirit" when he received the visions that are recorded in Revelation. I have never known what that meant. Aren't believers filled with the Spirit all the time? The Old Testament describes the Spirit of the Lord descending on people such as David to show the Lord's favor and also records the Spirit being removed from Saul when he sinned against the Lord. Jesus promised that the Spirit would come when he left.

Beyond knowing that I was supposed to receive the Holy Spirit when I was baptized, I've never been sure what else the Spirit did. I know that we have a list of fruit the Spirit bears when it lives in us, but how does that really work? I know that Hebrews describes the Spirit interceding for us in prayer before the Father.

What I suppose it really comes down to is that I have head knowledge about the Spirit but I don't feel that knowledge. I haven't experienced it.

In just this past month, I have had two different encounters with other believers that left me asking questions about my own life. Both revolved around this idea of being "in the Spirit". One said that she begins every prayer time by confessing sin and reviewing encounters with people from the past days making sure that there is nothing she needs to apologize or repent of. She said that if she didn't do that, her prayers would not be heard. The other talked about living every day in the supernatural power of the Spirit. She said that the reason most of us get so tired is that we live on our energy and not God's. She talked about living in truth because the negative feelings that come from guilt and conflict use a lot of energy and block the Spirit from being in control.

I don't know how to respond to these ideas. I want to know this kind of energy and power. I want my prayers to be heard. But this felt a little "other worldly" in a way that I wasn't comfortable with. So my real question to myself is, "Am I uncomfortable because it's new to me or because it's wrong?"

I'm not sure yet for myself. What do you think?

Rest

2007-08-06T10:46:00.000-05:00

I have a lot of stuff on my mind today. I'm sure that many of you do too!

I'm thinking about work and all that I need to do. I'm thinking about church yesterday. I'm thinking about vacation and all that has to be finished so that we can leave. I'm thinking about my poor kiddos that I left at home, not feeling very good. I'm also thinking about sleep.

Sleep is a very normal pattern of thought for a mother of three young kids. I covet sleep, I must confess to you. Just this week, I have started bribing our oldest to not wake me up in the night. We call them "silly wake ups" because sometimes she just wants to know if we are there.

This weekend, I was talking with my neighbor and friend who is a new mom. Her daughter is just 3 months old. She was asking me if I thought that her baby slept too much. I remember being a new mom and worrying about the same thing. I told her what my pediatrician told me.

Babies grow and learn more in their first 12 months of life than at any other time. It is hard work! As they sleep, cells repair themselves and multiply. Synapses in the brain form more permanent connections. In short, the only way that babies can achieve all that they need to is by sleeping. In fact, by sleeping a whole lot!

It seems possible to me that there is a connection to the spiritual realm. In order to grow into all that we are intended to, there must be times of rest. Yes, we must feed our souls with prayer and scripture. But without rest, those "cells" won't be able to multiply and take root in our hearts.

I think it important to say here that I don't just mean sleeping. I mean resting in the Lord. Meditating, being in solitude with Him. It is there, as we just listen and wait, that our souls create permanent connection.

What do you think?

Oh, how you've grown!

2007-07-30T09:00:00.000-05:00

One of the first things that I say when seeing the children of friends after a period of time apart is, "Oh! They are getting so big!"

Usually, that comment is countered with ideas like, "Now so and so has learned to walk." or "Can you believe how fast they are growing?"

It seems to be part of being a parent that you automatically slip into brag mode when talking about your kids. It is even worse if you haven't seen that person in a while.

I guess that adults can be this way as well. When a high school or college reunion is coming up, everyone scrambles to lose 10 pounds, get their roots touched up, and wishes that they had a more exciting job to describe. We feel the need to prove that we have grown into more than people expected of us.

I find myself wishing sometimes that someone would notice my spiritual growth. No one ever says things like, "You really have matured in the faith since the last time I saw you." or "I see you becoming more like Jesus." Yes, I know. It would be weird if anyone actually said those things outloud to me.

But, I long to be growing. I want to be moving in the right direction. I desire maturity more than anything else. And sometimes, I just want to know if I'm on the right track. I want those that are older and wiser in the faith to see me growing in the right direction.

I wonder, though, if that is pride on my part. Do I want to hear others say, "Oo! Look how spiritual she is!" Because that's not healthy growth at all; that's cancer!

What do you think about that?

Where did the title come from?

2007-07-30T07:10:00.000-05:00

I freely admit that the title, "The Dance of the Devoted Daughter" sounds strange from someone with my background! After all, there is not much dancing my church!!

So, I thought that I would explain myself. This title was my response to a book I read titled, "The Dance of the Dissident Daughter" by Sue Monk Kidd. I love Ms. Kidd's writing! Her fiction is captivating and I devour her work. This particular book was not fiction, though. It was Ms. Kidd's personal story of a spiritual search for a place of meaning, as a woman. Ms. Kidd had been a Christian for years and in fact wrote Christian articles and books. But, at 40 years of age she began to see that her Christian journey was masculine, not feminine.

The pain that she honestly presents and the quest for a feminine expression of faith spoke deeply to me. I too feel that much of my spirituality must be put in masculine terms because those are the only terms that my church presents. And yet, my logic tells me that God made us male and female for a reason. Shouldn't there be a way to be fully feminine and fully godly? When Ms. Kidd began to search for that intersection of realities, she couldn't find it. And so, she left the church, and the theology of this patriarchal system to find her own way. She became the dissident daughter.

I couldn't wrap my arms around the conclusions that Ms. Kidd reached and the decisions that she made based on them. I believe in the importance of the church, local and global. I believe that God in trusted His mission of reconciliation to the broken vessel that is the church. So, I vowed to be the devoted daughter. I vowed to stay. Staying, for me, is harder than leaving. I experience pain often from closed doors and shut down thinking. But, I believe that I have been called to pioneer a new way. I believe that God created men and women to work side by side in the kingdom. I believe that someone has to be willing to sacrifice their own comfort for the good of those that will follow. I choose this dance because I believe it honors God with all that I am. I believe that this is my life's work.

What do you think?

Getting Started

2007-07-23T11:37:00.000-05:00

Well, I've been told that it is time to enter this world called blogging for a very long time. I am finally jumping in!

It is my desire that this blog be a place to begin conversations about living a life worthy of the name of our king. I've titled this blog "The Dance of the Devoted Daughter" because that phrase outlines who I desire to be. I want to be a princess that brings honor to the name of my Father in all that I do.

Will you journey with me?