I just finished filling out my half of my annual performance development evaluation for my job. I fill mine out and my supervisor fills one out about me and then we sit down together to have a discussion about how our notes line up. Or about how they don't line up. It's a fairly painless process that I really don't mind doing. I have a great supervisor who is far more generous with his responses about me than those I have for myself.
I got to thinking today about how helpful it would be if everyone had to fill one of these sorts of forms out each year regarding their personal life. What if I had to sit down at least once a year and ask myself how I've been handling conflict with my family and friends? Are my communication skills both loving and effective? Am I seeking God's will on every decision I make? What sort of answers would I give myself regarding my personal time management skills? Have I been adhering to my family budget and taking active measures to implement cost saving measures? Do I ask for help when I need it?
The beauty of the performance development evaluation is that it isn't one sided. It is completed amidst a discussion with someone who has authority over me but also cares for me. Could I sit down with my family and have this discussion? When my boss gives me suggestions on areas I could focus energy on improvement I am generally in agreement and we work together to come up with a plan for me to move forward. If my family told me they saw areas of my life that could use a second look would I take their words so readily? I'm thinking no.
This is why I am grateful for a few people in my life who are honest to a fault but love me to no end. We can lay it all out for each other, have a laugh, and then a "but seriously" conversation. I don't always like what they have to say and they don't always like what I have to say but we know that we're being honest and want the best for each other. When the bible talks about "iron sharpening iron" I believe this is exactly what it's talking about. God has given me accountability with a few people who believe that God loves me enough to both bless me and push me forward in hard ways. These people want to see me living my best life possible in a way that's bringing growth to myself and glory to God's kingdom. We just don't have forms for our process.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
This is My Story
A few months back I got a text message that said, "I knew you'd be happy for me and would want to know." Attached was a picture of my dear childhood friend Joni's hand. On it was an engagement ring. I was happy. I was so, so very happy for her.
When the invitation for the wedding arrived in the mail, however, I came up with a thousand and two reasons why I couldn't go. It was going to be in October, which is a very busy month with Shelby's birthday and with Halloween. I had a lot going on at work. Chuck's mom was coming to visit us the week before and my dad had scheduled a visit the week after. It would cost a fortune. I needed to lose weight. The sky had clouds in it. You get the drift. I was working a list. The biggest excuse I had though, and really the only one that was even close to being legitimate, was that I wasn't sure I had the energy to face my home town.
I left Marion, IL 15 years ago because I needed a fresh start. My family had disintegrated, my childhood home was now being lived in by someone else, my mom had committed suicide, and I had already failed at my career. I was 20.
Chuck and I left and came to Texas and I'd only gone back once, and that was for our ten year class reunion. I was post-partum with Seth then and Shelby was not even two years old. I was a mess already and seeing old friends and old haunts did a number on me. I didn't think I could go back and do that all over again.
But after much prayer and even more convincing from Chuck, I sent the RSVP, asked for the prime rib, and we packed our bags.
My words cannot even begin to express the blessing that this weekend was for me. We spent time with people we love and who love us back just as much, if not more. We drove around and saw how time had changed the town of my youth and we rested. This weekend was so very restful. The wedding was amazing and I'm so glad that Joni has found the love of her life.
The last time I went to Marion it felt raw and heavy and I left feeling no need to ever return. This time I allowed my town and my friends to envelope me with with so much love that it was like a warm, soft quilt. I haven't laughed so much or so hard in ages and my heart is swollen with joy.
On my way to work this morning I was thinking about this post and what words I would use to describe how I'm processing the weekend. This song came on the radio and tears began to flow freely down my cheeks. Marion may not be the hub of my universe anymore but it is part of my story. The people and the places there helped to form the woman I am today. God has done many miracles in and around the relationships and situations that came from there and thankfully, he continues a great work in me today.
When the invitation for the wedding arrived in the mail, however, I came up with a thousand and two reasons why I couldn't go. It was going to be in October, which is a very busy month with Shelby's birthday and with Halloween. I had a lot going on at work. Chuck's mom was coming to visit us the week before and my dad had scheduled a visit the week after. It would cost a fortune. I needed to lose weight. The sky had clouds in it. You get the drift. I was working a list. The biggest excuse I had though, and really the only one that was even close to being legitimate, was that I wasn't sure I had the energy to face my home town.
I left Marion, IL 15 years ago because I needed a fresh start. My family had disintegrated, my childhood home was now being lived in by someone else, my mom had committed suicide, and I had already failed at my career. I was 20.
Chuck and I left and came to Texas and I'd only gone back once, and that was for our ten year class reunion. I was post-partum with Seth then and Shelby was not even two years old. I was a mess already and seeing old friends and old haunts did a number on me. I didn't think I could go back and do that all over again.
But after much prayer and even more convincing from Chuck, I sent the RSVP, asked for the prime rib, and we packed our bags.
My words cannot even begin to express the blessing that this weekend was for me. We spent time with people we love and who love us back just as much, if not more. We drove around and saw how time had changed the town of my youth and we rested. This weekend was so very restful. The wedding was amazing and I'm so glad that Joni has found the love of her life.
The last time I went to Marion it felt raw and heavy and I left feeling no need to ever return. This time I allowed my town and my friends to envelope me with with so much love that it was like a warm, soft quilt. I haven't laughed so much or so hard in ages and my heart is swollen with joy.
On my way to work this morning I was thinking about this post and what words I would use to describe how I'm processing the weekend. This song came on the radio and tears began to flow freely down my cheeks. Marion may not be the hub of my universe anymore but it is part of my story. The people and the places there helped to form the woman I am today. God has done many miracles in and around the relationships and situations that came from there and thankfully, he continues a great work in me today.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Joy Dare
I'm a little late to the game but I suppose late is better than never. My life has come to a place as of late where I want, no, I need to acknowledge the beauty and grace of my heavenly father. I fear that if I don't spend time with a focus on his grace I may just be swallowed by my own self absorption.
God is good though and he brings me, in his grace, just what I need at just the right timing. His timing. I started a bible study yesterday based on Ann Voskamp's book "One Thousand Gifts". I've read the book twice and found it's beauty beyond measure. The first time I read it I even started a gratitude list that I kept handy on my phone...until that phone crashed before I had backed it up. New phone = new list.
Her challenge in the book and in the study is no small one. 1000 pieces of gratitude in one year. 1000 reasons to look to God. 1000 moments, things, items, etc. that draw my eyes away from me and up to heaven. My past has always been lived in a way that allowed gratitude to come out of joy. I want my future to be one in which joy comes out of gratitude.
So I'm going to take the challenge that you can read about here:
I'm praying that the gifts of my life become so evident that finding 1000 will be no challenge at all. Ann says, "Joy is a function of gratitude — and gratitude is a function of perspective. So take these prompts to help you see and change perspective — give thanks — and live all His joy!" That's what I want to do - to live in all of the joy God has for me.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Decisions, Decisions
Everywhere I turn lately there are big decisions to be faced. I have friends contemplating a change of calling that would move them across the country. I have friends trying to decide if they should sell their house and move. I have a couple of friends looking in the face of divorce while another friend is preparing to walk down the aisle. I have a friend making decisions about starting a family after the devastation of miscarriage as another friend is helping her only baby decide where to go away for college. I tell you, it's enough to make my co-dependent heart explode!
All of these decisions, just like the piddle of daily decisions in my own life, must be faced head on in prayer and petition. This morning before I even allowed one toe to touch the shaggy carpet of my bedroom I knew I needed to turn it all over to God and beg for his mercy and wisdom. It is my nature to worry a problem into the ground - whether it's my problem to wrestle or not - and I knew that with all the swirling rumors of contemplation and change I would easily become immersed in decision making that is not my own. So I prayed for my friends, my church and it's leaders, and my family. I prayed for God to bless my loved ones with answers and a light so bright that the path ahead of them would be clearly illuminated. And then I felt peace in knowing that I serve a God so big that he can totally handle each of the needs of the people in his care and that he does not need my fretting or tears.
All of these decisions, just like the piddle of daily decisions in my own life, must be faced head on in prayer and petition. This morning before I even allowed one toe to touch the shaggy carpet of my bedroom I knew I needed to turn it all over to God and beg for his mercy and wisdom. It is my nature to worry a problem into the ground - whether it's my problem to wrestle or not - and I knew that with all the swirling rumors of contemplation and change I would easily become immersed in decision making that is not my own. So I prayed for my friends, my church and it's leaders, and my family. I prayed for God to bless my loved ones with answers and a light so bright that the path ahead of them would be clearly illuminated. And then I felt peace in knowing that I serve a God so big that he can totally handle each of the needs of the people in his care and that he does not need my fretting or tears.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Fall Blew In
Fall blew into Houston last night on the tails of a Gulf storm. When it arrived it ran smack dab into the face of a northern front and wallah! Fall. I use the term "Fall" lightly because no matter how many orange and yellow mum plants you sit on your porch and no matter how many pumpkin spice coffees you drink, fall may mean it's still going reach 96 again on Monday.
I pulled out all of my fall decorations last week in the hopes of willing it to arrive. I'm always so excited for the days of summer to arrive with their grilling afternoons and lazy pool parties, but by mid-September I am done. I long for the oranges, yellows, and browns that would dance across the trees of my youth. Fall is the only time of year I miss living in the north. For some reason the evergreens of my lush bayou city will not cooperate, which truth be told, I will appreciate again when the woods behind my house are still green in February.
I have always loved fall and, contrary to my husbands belief, it is not because it is the precursor to Christmas. There is something about fall that takes me back to high school football games, borrowing a boyfriend's letter jacket, the smell of burning leaves, and hot apple cider. Pep rallies, marching bands, hay rides. It all screams of fall and it just doesn't happen when it's 92 degrees.
But this morning it feels like fall in my back yard. I may go dry off a chair, take along a good book, and enjoy the chill of the morning.
I pulled out all of my fall decorations last week in the hopes of willing it to arrive. I'm always so excited for the days of summer to arrive with their grilling afternoons and lazy pool parties, but by mid-September I am done. I long for the oranges, yellows, and browns that would dance across the trees of my youth. Fall is the only time of year I miss living in the north. For some reason the evergreens of my lush bayou city will not cooperate, which truth be told, I will appreciate again when the woods behind my house are still green in February.
I have always loved fall and, contrary to my husbands belief, it is not because it is the precursor to Christmas. There is something about fall that takes me back to high school football games, borrowing a boyfriend's letter jacket, the smell of burning leaves, and hot apple cider. Pep rallies, marching bands, hay rides. It all screams of fall and it just doesn't happen when it's 92 degrees.
But this morning it feels like fall in my back yard. I may go dry off a chair, take along a good book, and enjoy the chill of the morning.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
I'll Start With a Muffin
I've been pondering my kitchen responsibilities lately and have come to the conclusion that it's high past time for me to step it up on the health front. Not that I've been cooking with lard or anything and I don't keep a tin of bacon grease on the back of the stove. (Although that does bring back some delicious childhood memories!)
I'm trying to choose more natural ingredients and less processed ones. I'm trying to amp up the fiber and cut out some fat. I had some bananas going dark tonight and decided to peruse Pinterest for some new recipes so I could use up the bananas before they started calling in the gnats. I found one I liked, and by "liked" I mean it had ingredients I had on hand. I'm a bit lazy that way. I changed it up a little though because I wanted to add some more fiber.
So here's what my version looked like:
1 1/2 cup oat flour
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup palm coconut sugar
1/4 cup flax seed
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
3/4 cup almond milk
1/2 cup apple sauce
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 Tbsp honey
1 cup banana mash
I mixed all of the dry ingredients together in one bowl while my KitchenAid mixed the wet ingredients. After the wet ingredients looked well mixed I slowly started adding the dry ingredients. I let the mixer stir until everything was just barely mixed. I didn't want to overwork the oats.
I filled my muffin tin with cute colored paper cups - but you could totally use ugly ones so long as there are twelve. I poured the mixture into the muffin cups and baked for 20 minutes at 400 degrees.
Super yum and super fiber filled for the win!
I'm trying to choose more natural ingredients and less processed ones. I'm trying to amp up the fiber and cut out some fat. I had some bananas going dark tonight and decided to peruse Pinterest for some new recipes so I could use up the bananas before they started calling in the gnats. I found one I liked, and by "liked" I mean it had ingredients I had on hand. I'm a bit lazy that way. I changed it up a little though because I wanted to add some more fiber.
So here's what my version looked like:
1 1/2 cup oat flour
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup palm coconut sugar
1/4 cup flax seed
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
3/4 cup almond milk
1/2 cup apple sauce
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 Tbsp honey
1 cup banana mash
I mixed all of the dry ingredients together in one bowl while my KitchenAid mixed the wet ingredients. After the wet ingredients looked well mixed I slowly started adding the dry ingredients. I let the mixer stir until everything was just barely mixed. I didn't want to overwork the oats.
I filled my muffin tin with cute colored paper cups - but you could totally use ugly ones so long as there are twelve. I poured the mixture into the muffin cups and baked for 20 minutes at 400 degrees.
Super yum and super fiber filled for the win!
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
World Suicide Prevention Day
Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. Did you know that someone somewhere in the world commits suicide every 40 seconds. That's about 3,000 people every day. More people die from suicide than from murder or war and it's the 14th leading cause of death in the world. Suicide happens when a person feels hopeless and can't see past the pain they are facing - either physical or emotional.
I lost my mom to suicide 16 years ago. It seems crazy that it was so long ago when the memory is still so fresh. I participate in World Suicide Prevention Day because I know what it feels like to be a survivor. I know what it feels like to be the one left living. I will never stop reaching out to the hurting and the hopeless with the love of Jesus because I don't want anyone else to feel the despair of being the one committing the act or the ones left behind.
Today I write love on my arm.
I lost my mom to suicide 16 years ago. It seems crazy that it was so long ago when the memory is still so fresh. I participate in World Suicide Prevention Day because I know what it feels like to be a survivor. I know what it feels like to be the one left living. I will never stop reaching out to the hurting and the hopeless with the love of Jesus because I don't want anyone else to feel the despair of being the one committing the act or the ones left behind.
Today I write love on my arm.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
An Ugly, Stinky Start
I've been trying really hard to get this school year off to a good start. I've made some positive adjustments in my own schedule for the benefit of the rest of my family. One of those adjustments is that I now get up at 5:00 - fifteen minutes after my husband gets up - to prepare coffee for he and I, pack lunches for the whole family, and get in some prayer and bible reading before my own shower. Doing all of this so early means that I can be totally ready for the day when it's time to wake my kids up. Things just seem to run a bit smoother if Mom isn't running around like a crazy woman looking for a lost earring and mascara. Granted I am one week in but so far it has worked well for everyone.
Until today. Sometime around 4:15 our Great Dane/Mastiff mix started scratching at our bedroom door. He was whining incessantly but my assumption was that it must be thundering. I didn't hear thunder but at 4:15 I don't question my thoughts. I hollered for him to "Hush" and rolled over to go back to sleep.
Somewhere in the moments shortly after 5:00AM I rolled out of bed, smiled a sleepy smile at my husband as he was combing his hair, and headed to the kitchen for coffee. As soon as I opened the door I was almost knocked over by a foul odor. Scratch that. Foul odor does not even begin to describe what invaded my nostrils. It was so awful that if I could've bottled the stench I would have. I'd save it for my ugliest of enemies and pop the cork in their faces. It was that bad.The only thing worse than the odor was the sensation of setting my foot down in what was causing the odor. There was diarrhea all over the floor just outside my bedroom door. And all over the wall. And then as I rounded the corner I saw that it was spread across the living room floor. And the kitchen floor. And in front of the back door. And on every single tile in the foyer.
I didn't scream - although I wanted to. I didn't cry - although that seemed like a logical next step. I just stood there. I was in total disbelief. I looked at the dog, who was looking back at me as if to say, "I tried to tell you."
To add to the incredibleness of this scene I realized that the odor invading my nose had now started affecting my taste buds. Gagging ensued, followed by a rush to the kitchen sink to vomit.
I'll spare you the details of the mishaps of trying to clean all of that but I will say it crossed my mind that maybe we should just burn the house down and start fresh somewhere else. It made complete sense in the moment.
On the bright side though, when I left to take the kids to school and head to work, my house smelled fresh like lavender floor cleaner and my hands smelled like bleach. And everyone gets to buy lunch in the cafeteria today.
It's just another day...
Until today. Sometime around 4:15 our Great Dane/Mastiff mix started scratching at our bedroom door. He was whining incessantly but my assumption was that it must be thundering. I didn't hear thunder but at 4:15 I don't question my thoughts. I hollered for him to "Hush" and rolled over to go back to sleep.
Somewhere in the moments shortly after 5:00AM I rolled out of bed, smiled a sleepy smile at my husband as he was combing his hair, and headed to the kitchen for coffee. As soon as I opened the door I was almost knocked over by a foul odor. Scratch that. Foul odor does not even begin to describe what invaded my nostrils. It was so awful that if I could've bottled the stench I would have. I'd save it for my ugliest of enemies and pop the cork in their faces. It was that bad.The only thing worse than the odor was the sensation of setting my foot down in what was causing the odor. There was diarrhea all over the floor just outside my bedroom door. And all over the wall. And then as I rounded the corner I saw that it was spread across the living room floor. And the kitchen floor. And in front of the back door. And on every single tile in the foyer.
I didn't scream - although I wanted to. I didn't cry - although that seemed like a logical next step. I just stood there. I was in total disbelief. I looked at the dog, who was looking back at me as if to say, "I tried to tell you."
To add to the incredibleness of this scene I realized that the odor invading my nose had now started affecting my taste buds. Gagging ensued, followed by a rush to the kitchen sink to vomit.
I'll spare you the details of the mishaps of trying to clean all of that but I will say it crossed my mind that maybe we should just burn the house down and start fresh somewhere else. It made complete sense in the moment.
On the bright side though, when I left to take the kids to school and head to work, my house smelled fresh like lavender floor cleaner and my hands smelled like bleach. And everyone gets to buy lunch in the cafeteria today.
It's just another day...
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
The Newness is Gone
The newness of school has officially wore off. Last week the kids bounded out of bed excited to see what each new day had to offer. There were new specials, new teachers, new friends, and new clothes. They excitedly laid out clothes each night and couldn't wait for showers.
Today, however, when I went to their rooms and gently woke them with a "Good Morning!" I was met with grimaces and faces quickly covered by bedsheets.
"I don't want to go to school!" my daughter said in an almost angry voice.
"But you had such a great week last week. Aren't you excited to see you friends again and all of your new teachers?"
She replied with a swift and simple, "No."
I get it. There's always a new excitement and slight nervousness that brings fluttering butterflies to the stomach when something new is about to start. After the newness wears off though and routine turns back to repetition then we are left with early bedtimes and early risings that do not shout of fun.
So now my job as mom really kicks into gear. Last week was too easy and although I somehow hoped it would be the new normal this year I knew better deep down in my mothering places. Now I have to work up smiling encouragements each day and offer prayers for energy and sustainability. Now I have to make interesting lunches and fun snacks. I have to invent new multiplication dances and make bath time appear to be a respite and not a chore. Mothering is not for sissies and this is the easy stuff. I better start taking my vitamins.
Today, however, when I went to their rooms and gently woke them with a "Good Morning!" I was met with grimaces and faces quickly covered by bedsheets.
"I don't want to go to school!" my daughter said in an almost angry voice.
"But you had such a great week last week. Aren't you excited to see you friends again and all of your new teachers?"
She replied with a swift and simple, "No."
I get it. There's always a new excitement and slight nervousness that brings fluttering butterflies to the stomach when something new is about to start. After the newness wears off though and routine turns back to repetition then we are left with early bedtimes and early risings that do not shout of fun.
So now my job as mom really kicks into gear. Last week was too easy and although I somehow hoped it would be the new normal this year I knew better deep down in my mothering places. Now I have to work up smiling encouragements each day and offer prayers for energy and sustainability. Now I have to make interesting lunches and fun snacks. I have to invent new multiplication dances and make bath time appear to be a respite and not a chore. Mothering is not for sissies and this is the easy stuff. I better start taking my vitamins.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
It's Time
The kids went back to school this week so it's time for me to kick it in gear and get back to writing. I took the summer off because I was so burned out on myself after VBS that I couldn't possible think of anything worthwhile to share.
It occurred to me this week though that I do better processing my thoughts when I'm thinking about blogging so I knew it was time to get back to the discipline.
I started re-reading Beth Moore's book "So Long Insecurities" this week and it has truly been eye opening. Not just because of what she has to say, which is all good stuff, but because I really have no recollection of a single word on the pages. I know I read this book a year or two ago. I remember downloading it. I remember being excited about it. I remember finishing it and thinking of a few friends I wanted to share it with. Oh wait. That's probably the hang up. I probably read it thinking more about who I knew that needed to hear what Beth had to say than what I could possible gather from it myself. Hmm.
Anyway, God has been speaking a mighty wonder to me through the pages and I've started to reevaluate some of the lies I have been believing about myself. I'm tired of worrying so much about what other people think about me and what their reactions will be to my actions. So now comes the journey of taking those steps and carefully moving forward in a way that please God.
It's both exciting and exhausting to think about such a journey so I think I better pour myself another cup of coffee for the road.
It occurred to me this week though that I do better processing my thoughts when I'm thinking about blogging so I knew it was time to get back to the discipline.
I started re-reading Beth Moore's book "So Long Insecurities" this week and it has truly been eye opening. Not just because of what she has to say, which is all good stuff, but because I really have no recollection of a single word on the pages. I know I read this book a year or two ago. I remember downloading it. I remember being excited about it. I remember finishing it and thinking of a few friends I wanted to share it with. Oh wait. That's probably the hang up. I probably read it thinking more about who I knew that needed to hear what Beth had to say than what I could possible gather from it myself. Hmm.
Anyway, God has been speaking a mighty wonder to me through the pages and I've started to reevaluate some of the lies I have been believing about myself. I'm tired of worrying so much about what other people think about me and what their reactions will be to my actions. So now comes the journey of taking those steps and carefully moving forward in a way that please God.
It's both exciting and exhausting to think about such a journey so I think I better pour myself another cup of coffee for the road.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Summer
I can not think of a particularly exciting summer in my childhood. My family didn't do a big vacation every summer and I didn't play a "summer" sport. My parents both worked and so summers were really just a break from school. I'm not complaining, mind you, it is what it is...or was. I don't think my summer was drastically different from any of my friends. Maybe it's just how it was in Southern Illinois.
One thing that summer solidified though was who my real friends were. My real friends called. My real friends came around. We had slumber parties and went to the public pool (because none our families had pools) and we rode our bikes down country roads. We all had at least fifty acquaintances at school but summer time was for real friends.
I hope that for my own kids. I hope that they will be able to look around and see people who love them for who they are. I hope that they will have summers of laughter and joy and be able to look back one day and see the difference between who was a true friend and who was convenient. I hope that they will still be able to pick up a phone or computer (or whatever futuristic communication device is handy) and be able to reach out to those friends. And I hope they also make new friends who will spend adult summers grilling out and swimming and enjoying family time with them because, well, that's what summer is for.
One thing that summer solidified though was who my real friends were. My real friends called. My real friends came around. We had slumber parties and went to the public pool (because none our families had pools) and we rode our bikes down country roads. We all had at least fifty acquaintances at school but summer time was for real friends.
I hope that for my own kids. I hope that they will be able to look around and see people who love them for who they are. I hope that they will have summers of laughter and joy and be able to look back one day and see the difference between who was a true friend and who was convenient. I hope that they will still be able to pick up a phone or computer (or whatever futuristic communication device is handy) and be able to reach out to those friends. And I hope they also make new friends who will spend adult summers grilling out and swimming and enjoying family time with them because, well, that's what summer is for.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Post VBS Cough
Another year of Vacation Bible School has been placed in the books and, yet again, God showed up in amazing ways. Families came out in great force, dinners were served, songs were sung and danced to, beach balls were tossed, and Mrs. Heather blew a few things up. That list alone equals success but when you add in the parenting class and the moms and dads that are now thinking purposefully about the legacy they are leaving for their kids, well, that's total win.
One of the shortfalls of VBS is that my own family gets the shaft that week. My husband gets an emotionally and physically exhausted wife and my kids get a mom that is saving her smiles and fun for the crowds that walk through the door each evening. They love VBS, I think, because the great fun is such a great contrast to the crazed mom at home.
Every year I promise them great things after VBS. We'll go on bike rides and water parks and picnics...as so as VBS is over. Except that Sunday, during the Worship Finale, I started having this ache in my throat. "That's weird," I thought, "I hope I'm not coming down with something." How could I possibly be getting sick? I only hugged or high-fived one hundred plus kids last week. I'm sure none of them had germs, right?
Hmmm. Now it's Tuesday, my kids are complaining, and I'm fighting a coughing fit. I saw the doctor yesterday who diagnosed a common cold and gave me some syrup that knocks me out cold. We are on week two of summer vacation and no family fun has been had to write about yet. My hopes are high for week three.
One of the shortfalls of VBS is that my own family gets the shaft that week. My husband gets an emotionally and physically exhausted wife and my kids get a mom that is saving her smiles and fun for the crowds that walk through the door each evening. They love VBS, I think, because the great fun is such a great contrast to the crazed mom at home.
Every year I promise them great things after VBS. We'll go on bike rides and water parks and picnics...as so as VBS is over. Except that Sunday, during the Worship Finale, I started having this ache in my throat. "That's weird," I thought, "I hope I'm not coming down with something." How could I possibly be getting sick? I only hugged or high-fived one hundred plus kids last week. I'm sure none of them had germs, right?
Hmmm. Now it's Tuesday, my kids are complaining, and I'm fighting a coughing fit. I saw the doctor yesterday who diagnosed a common cold and gave me some syrup that knocks me out cold. We are on week two of summer vacation and no family fun has been had to write about yet. My hopes are high for week three.
Monday, June 3, 2013
A Basket of Fish and VBS
It's one week from Kingdom Rock Vacation Bible School at my church and, if I'm going to be totally honest, I'm teetering between extreme excitement and extreme fear. When friends ask me what I'm afraid of I really have no good answer. I have a great team in place and I know that God is going to rain down great blessings on every family that attends. I think my fear comes from knowing how big VBS is and not knowing exactly how it will play out. I have a little comfort in knowing that I'm not the first to be in fear or doubt of big situations though.
You see, there's a great story in the Bible of Jesus teaching to a large crowd. The people were out in such great number that they covered the hillside. Come lunch time the disciples looked to Jesus and said, "Hey Dude, let's take a break. We're getting hungry. The crowd is getting hungry. We don't have the means to feed all these people and, even if we did, it would take forever. Let's send them away, let them rest up, grab a burger, and we can all gather back later for you to keep on teaching."
Jesus saw that the disciples had no idea how little faith they actually had so he found a little boy with a picnic lunch. It was just a regular lunch, some fish and bread. It wasn't even like the "Bucket O'Fish" from the local drive through. It was a simple basket lunch that his mom had probably packed for him. Jesus lifted the lunchable heavenward, asked God to bless it, and suddenly there was food to feed the thousands.
I have to believe the disciples had a big "DOH!" moment when they realized that once again they had misjudged the power of Jesus. I think they probably looked at each other, knowingly embarrassed by their continued lack of belief. I wonder if they later apologized to Jesus for previously suggesting that they had a better plan.
I'm so thankful for the constant supply of examples, both in the Bible and in my own life, of times when Jesus shows his might and supremacy. I so grateful for the times when I have freaked out because I wasn't in control of something and Jesus steps in and says, "Hey Girl, I got this!" I love that when I expect one thing to happen, because it seems like the most logical and reasonable outcome I can think of, Jesus shows me something far greater.
You see, there's a great story in the Bible of Jesus teaching to a large crowd. The people were out in such great number that they covered the hillside. Come lunch time the disciples looked to Jesus and said, "Hey Dude, let's take a break. We're getting hungry. The crowd is getting hungry. We don't have the means to feed all these people and, even if we did, it would take forever. Let's send them away, let them rest up, grab a burger, and we can all gather back later for you to keep on teaching."
Jesus saw that the disciples had no idea how little faith they actually had so he found a little boy with a picnic lunch. It was just a regular lunch, some fish and bread. It wasn't even like the "Bucket O'Fish" from the local drive through. It was a simple basket lunch that his mom had probably packed for him. Jesus lifted the lunchable heavenward, asked God to bless it, and suddenly there was food to feed the thousands.
I have to believe the disciples had a big "DOH!" moment when they realized that once again they had misjudged the power of Jesus. I think they probably looked at each other, knowingly embarrassed by their continued lack of belief. I wonder if they later apologized to Jesus for previously suggesting that they had a better plan.
I'm so thankful for the constant supply of examples, both in the Bible and in my own life, of times when Jesus shows his might and supremacy. I so grateful for the times when I have freaked out because I wasn't in control of something and Jesus steps in and says, "Hey Girl, I got this!" I love that when I expect one thing to happen, because it seems like the most logical and reasonable outcome I can think of, Jesus shows me something far greater.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
An Alternative Family Lifestyle
My husband and I have made a deliberate and decisive decision to lead our family in an alternative lifestyle. It is one that does not go with the flow of our community. It seems so unorthodox and crazy to some but...we've decided to make family time a priority.
You make think I'm being dramatic but I am shocked almost daily by the snarky remarks, wild-eyed looks, and behind-the-back whispers I deal with. No one acts this way when I say we are making family a priority. They do this when we don't over book our schedule. They do this when we don't allow our kids to commit to 5-night-a-week activities.
We live in a high-functioning, highly competitive community/society. Kids are told they have to be specialized experts in particular activities by 5th grade. Parents are led to believe that their child will never "make it" in the world if they aren't coached by the best and taking private lessons three times a week.
I have no judgment or ill-will for families that commit their kids to activities every night. If they have talked about it as a family, have decided that it works for them, the kids aren't suffering, and everyone is happy about it - GREAT! We have talked about it as a family though and decided that it doesn't work for us.
Our kids do participate in activities. They both play sports. They simply play recreational. Seth played baseball last year. He played flag football in the fall and basketball in the winter. Shelby danced for several years and played soccer this spring. We chose not to do the elite, traveling, dynamo, champ leagues though and for some reason, that boggles the minds of some people. I often hear comments like, "Wow! You waited until your daughter was eight to play soccer? You really put her behind the 8 ball!" or "How do expect your son to play football in high school if he's not doing it now?" or "You're taking a break from dance? How will she ever make the high school dance team?"
I always want to laugh when I hear these statements/questions because these people have assumed that my kids already know that they want these things or that I want these things for my kids.
Here's what I want for my kids:
You make think I'm being dramatic but I am shocked almost daily by the snarky remarks, wild-eyed looks, and behind-the-back whispers I deal with. No one acts this way when I say we are making family a priority. They do this when we don't over book our schedule. They do this when we don't allow our kids to commit to 5-night-a-week activities.
We live in a high-functioning, highly competitive community/society. Kids are told they have to be specialized experts in particular activities by 5th grade. Parents are led to believe that their child will never "make it" in the world if they aren't coached by the best and taking private lessons three times a week.
I have no judgment or ill-will for families that commit their kids to activities every night. If they have talked about it as a family, have decided that it works for them, the kids aren't suffering, and everyone is happy about it - GREAT! We have talked about it as a family though and decided that it doesn't work for us.
Our kids do participate in activities. They both play sports. They simply play recreational. Seth played baseball last year. He played flag football in the fall and basketball in the winter. Shelby danced for several years and played soccer this spring. We chose not to do the elite, traveling, dynamo, champ leagues though and for some reason, that boggles the minds of some people. I often hear comments like, "Wow! You waited until your daughter was eight to play soccer? You really put her behind the 8 ball!" or "How do expect your son to play football in high school if he's not doing it now?" or "You're taking a break from dance? How will she ever make the high school dance team?"
I always want to laugh when I hear these statements/questions because these people have assumed that my kids already know that they want these things or that I want these things for my kids.
Here's what I want for my kids:
- I want them to know and love Jesus.
- I want them to be healthy.
- I want them to know that their dad and I love them and always have their best interest at heart.
- I want them to know that our family is safe and supportive.
Monday, May 6, 2013
What Do I Do?
What do you do?
That is the question that I fear most in social settings. I'm often tempted to lie and tell people I'm a stay at home mom. Or a stripper. But I don't. Because telling the truth is in the rule books in my profession.
I'm a children's minister.
Telling people you work for the church is often a conversation stopper. "Oh," they say, grasping at their next word, "that's nice." Then the conversation does one of three things:
I don't judge other families for being busy. I don't judge people who have missed a Sunday or two. Or sixteen. I simply make sure the party is fun and safe and that families feel welcomed and loved. At least that's the goal. I try to create a space where people can join with other people to learn, love, and enjoy each other.
Church is a place to come together with other believers. Or at least other people who want to be believers. Okay, maybe it's for people who are thinking about wanting to be believers. No one at church is perfect. No one has their life all together. We simply gather to take time to say, "Hey, God! Thanks for all the cool stuff you've done for me. Oh, and please help me to not be a jerk this week."
Yes, we read the Bible and we teach the stories. That's not to make people feel bored or guilty or squeamish. It's because God, in his infinite wisdom, recorded the stories of lots of other people who believed in him. Or wanted to believe in him. Or were thinking about wanting to believe in him. Most of those people made mistakes. Big mistakes. And most of them learned lessons. So we read the stories in the hope that we can learn from other people's lives. It also helps us to see that God has always been a stand up guy who takes care of his people.
I'm proud to be a children's minister, a church worker. If I wasn't I'd probably go with the "stripper" line more often, although I don't think anyone would buy it. I'm grateful that God has called me to be in this position in this time. I pray every day that He will work through me to bless others even though that sometimes makes for long, awkward pauses and fumbling of words. And I pray that his Spirit would go before me each day so that the path would be clear and the conversations would be plentiful.
That is the question that I fear most in social settings. I'm often tempted to lie and tell people I'm a stay at home mom. Or a stripper. But I don't. Because telling the truth is in the rule books in my profession.
I'm a children's minister.
Telling people you work for the church is often a conversation stopper. "Oh," they say, grasping at their next word, "that's nice." Then the conversation does one of three things:
- They change the subject.
- They tell me how much they love their church and how their VBS reached 9,003 kids last year.
- They start confessing how long it's been since they've been to church and why their lives are so busy that they just simply can't fit church in anymore.
I don't judge other families for being busy. I don't judge people who have missed a Sunday or two. Or sixteen. I simply make sure the party is fun and safe and that families feel welcomed and loved. At least that's the goal. I try to create a space where people can join with other people to learn, love, and enjoy each other.
Church is a place to come together with other believers. Or at least other people who want to be believers. Okay, maybe it's for people who are thinking about wanting to be believers. No one at church is perfect. No one has their life all together. We simply gather to take time to say, "Hey, God! Thanks for all the cool stuff you've done for me. Oh, and please help me to not be a jerk this week."
Yes, we read the Bible and we teach the stories. That's not to make people feel bored or guilty or squeamish. It's because God, in his infinite wisdom, recorded the stories of lots of other people who believed in him. Or wanted to believe in him. Or were thinking about wanting to believe in him. Most of those people made mistakes. Big mistakes. And most of them learned lessons. So we read the stories in the hope that we can learn from other people's lives. It also helps us to see that God has always been a stand up guy who takes care of his people.
I'm proud to be a children's minister, a church worker. If I wasn't I'd probably go with the "stripper" line more often, although I don't think anyone would buy it. I'm grateful that God has called me to be in this position in this time. I pray every day that He will work through me to bless others even though that sometimes makes for long, awkward pauses and fumbling of words. And I pray that his Spirit would go before me each day so that the path would be clear and the conversations would be plentiful.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Purpose
I read an interesting quote today. It said, "Purpose is found in those quiet moments when no one but God sees the work of your hands."
I find this interesting because I have questioned my purpose for many, many years. I believed for a long time that God was preparing me for some amazing moment, a moment when all the stars would align and all the experiences of my life would come together in one mystical instant. In this moment I would know my purpose, set forth on a path of righteousness, and lead the world to....to...well, that was the part I had been waiting on.
I don't believe that any more. I think that those moments may happen for a few. The writer or actor who is suddenly discovered. The singer who gets that big break. I'm sure it happens for some, I'm just not sure that my purpose will be revealed with fireworks.
No, I'm starting to believe that my purpose is revealed in tiny pieces, like puzzle shapes that fit together after much searching and deciphering. I believe that God has given me gifts and talents to use today. I think I have a responsibility to sharpen those talents and share those gifts to bless people I encounter.
When I look back at my life thus far, I can see how God has molded me and moved me through the circumstances of my life to prepare me for the next step. I can see how He has allowed me to grow and flourish and change. I can see how he has humbled me and lifted me up and allowed different flecks of color in the mosaic that is my soul to shine and darken, reflect and deflect, for each situation and encounter.
What is my purpose? I suppose it is to stay as close to God as possible so that I can be ready for whatever and wherever he leads.
I find this interesting because I have questioned my purpose for many, many years. I believed for a long time that God was preparing me for some amazing moment, a moment when all the stars would align and all the experiences of my life would come together in one mystical instant. In this moment I would know my purpose, set forth on a path of righteousness, and lead the world to....to...well, that was the part I had been waiting on.
I don't believe that any more. I think that those moments may happen for a few. The writer or actor who is suddenly discovered. The singer who gets that big break. I'm sure it happens for some, I'm just not sure that my purpose will be revealed with fireworks.
No, I'm starting to believe that my purpose is revealed in tiny pieces, like puzzle shapes that fit together after much searching and deciphering. I believe that God has given me gifts and talents to use today. I think I have a responsibility to sharpen those talents and share those gifts to bless people I encounter.
When I look back at my life thus far, I can see how God has molded me and moved me through the circumstances of my life to prepare me for the next step. I can see how He has allowed me to grow and flourish and change. I can see how he has humbled me and lifted me up and allowed different flecks of color in the mosaic that is my soul to shine and darken, reflect and deflect, for each situation and encounter.
What is my purpose? I suppose it is to stay as close to God as possible so that I can be ready for whatever and wherever he leads.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Prayers for Peace
My heart broke this week when I learned that Pastor Rick Warren's son had committed suicide. I, of course, don't know the Warren family personally. I only know Pastor Rick as somewhat of a celebrity and as an author. I follow him on Twitter and had read several of his books, his most famous being "The Purpose Driven Life".
The Warren's had never talked about their son's mental illness before publicly, wanting to allow their son to tell his own story in his own time. Pastor Rick has said in recent days that, "We always knew that God would use us to fight mental illness but we were protecting Matthew's right to share his own story." Now his story is their story.
That's how it is for those of us who are survivors of suicide. Choices that someone else made become our path, our story. The friends and family members who are left behind have to pick up the pages, turn them, and start anew. We walk through the pain that they could no longer carry and pray against the demons that would not let them rest.
This Monday, April 15th, will be fifteen years since my own mother committed suicide. My kids, age 7 and 9, have started asking very pointed questions lately about her death. I have never wanted to lie to them but the words have never come easily and I never wanted to bombard them with more truth than their little hearts and minds could process. My explanation has always been that her heart was so sad that her mind became ill and she died. That truly is the most elementary explanation for now and I will continue to pray for God's Spirit to speak through me as they seek a deeper explanation.
There is such a shameful stigma around mental illness and suicide in our society. I pray often that I will have words to speak to others when they ask about my mom. I pray that God will work through the Warren Family, and also through me, to bring light to the reality of what it is. It is a sickness. It is an illness. Sometimes it is brought on through tragedy or circumstances and sometimes it's brought through no apparent reason but it deserves to be talked about and treated just like any other illness.
So today I pray for peace. I pray for the Warren Family that they may experience God's peace like a blanket wrapped around them in soft comfort. I also pray that peace for myself and for all the friends and family who miss my mom, even still after 15 years. May we never forget the love she shared with all of us and may we continue to honor her by loving and giving to others.
The Warren's had never talked about their son's mental illness before publicly, wanting to allow their son to tell his own story in his own time. Pastor Rick has said in recent days that, "We always knew that God would use us to fight mental illness but we were protecting Matthew's right to share his own story." Now his story is their story.
That's how it is for those of us who are survivors of suicide. Choices that someone else made become our path, our story. The friends and family members who are left behind have to pick up the pages, turn them, and start anew. We walk through the pain that they could no longer carry and pray against the demons that would not let them rest.
This Monday, April 15th, will be fifteen years since my own mother committed suicide. My kids, age 7 and 9, have started asking very pointed questions lately about her death. I have never wanted to lie to them but the words have never come easily and I never wanted to bombard them with more truth than their little hearts and minds could process. My explanation has always been that her heart was so sad that her mind became ill and she died. That truly is the most elementary explanation for now and I will continue to pray for God's Spirit to speak through me as they seek a deeper explanation.
There is such a shameful stigma around mental illness and suicide in our society. I pray often that I will have words to speak to others when they ask about my mom. I pray that God will work through the Warren Family, and also through me, to bring light to the reality of what it is. It is a sickness. It is an illness. Sometimes it is brought on through tragedy or circumstances and sometimes it's brought through no apparent reason but it deserves to be talked about and treated just like any other illness.
So today I pray for peace. I pray for the Warren Family that they may experience God's peace like a blanket wrapped around them in soft comfort. I also pray that peace for myself and for all the friends and family who miss my mom, even still after 15 years. May we never forget the love she shared with all of us and may we continue to honor her by loving and giving to others.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Granny O is with Jesus
My husband's maternal grandmother died this weekend. We got the call on Easter morning around 4:00 AM. She was 90 and had cancer so it was not unexpected but yet it was. Granny O was such a fiesty fighter that when we found out about the cancer I still thought, somewhere in my deepest thinking places, that she would beat it.
Easter is a busy day for us, with me being a church worker and all. It means lots of time at church, lots of greeting, and lots and lots of smiling. Granny's death made it a little more difficult to be so smiley but the thing that kept me going was the knowledge that she's with Jesus now and no longer suffering. You hear people say that upon a death but it really is true. That hope and assurance is the one thing we can hold on to. And I have to believe that if you're going to enter the gates of heaven, there couldn't be a better day than Easter. I can only imagine that the angels sing a little bit louder on that day and that the gold and silver are freshly polished.
So while we are sad to no longer have Granny here on earth with us, it is truly heaven's gain and we look forward to the day when we will see her again.
Easter is a busy day for us, with me being a church worker and all. It means lots of time at church, lots of greeting, and lots and lots of smiling. Granny's death made it a little more difficult to be so smiley but the thing that kept me going was the knowledge that she's with Jesus now and no longer suffering. You hear people say that upon a death but it really is true. That hope and assurance is the one thing we can hold on to. And I have to believe that if you're going to enter the gates of heaven, there couldn't be a better day than Easter. I can only imagine that the angels sing a little bit louder on that day and that the gold and silver are freshly polished.
So while we are sad to no longer have Granny here on earth with us, it is truly heaven's gain and we look forward to the day when we will see her again.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Monday Chaos
We had to replace our air conditioning units and furnace this spring. It was time. In Texas, you go through air conditioners like people in the north go through snow shovels. We use them a lot and can go back and forth between furnace and a/c several times in one week.
This morning was one of those, "Let me turn off the air and turn on the furnace" mornings. It was 62 in the house and I knew that my kids were going to fight me on getting out from under their covers. I got out of bed, before the sun was up, and quietly crept up the stairs to turn the heat on. It revved up beautifully and quietly and...wait, what's that smell? The smell of "newness" started pouring out of the vents. It was a smokey, greasy smell and was putrid. That wasn't the worst part though. Suddenly the smoke detectors started screeching. And because they are hard wired into the security system I couldn't turn them off.
My kids both jumped from their beds screaming. My son was crying and his little hands were over his ears. The dog started howling and running up and down the stairs like his tail was on fire and all I could do was stand there with my mouth hanging open.
I finally convinced the dog to go outside while the kids hid under the covers of their beds. The smoke detector finally turned off and everyone calmed down. I called the air conditioning company who assured me this was normal and fine and would not stink forever. The kids got dressed and headed out the door, I drank a gallon of coffee, and our Monday life got back on track.
This morning was one of those, "Let me turn off the air and turn on the furnace" mornings. It was 62 in the house and I knew that my kids were going to fight me on getting out from under their covers. I got out of bed, before the sun was up, and quietly crept up the stairs to turn the heat on. It revved up beautifully and quietly and...wait, what's that smell? The smell of "newness" started pouring out of the vents. It was a smokey, greasy smell and was putrid. That wasn't the worst part though. Suddenly the smoke detectors started screeching. And because they are hard wired into the security system I couldn't turn them off.
My kids both jumped from their beds screaming. My son was crying and his little hands were over his ears. The dog started howling and running up and down the stairs like his tail was on fire and all I could do was stand there with my mouth hanging open.
I finally convinced the dog to go outside while the kids hid under the covers of their beds. The smoke detector finally turned off and everyone calmed down. I called the air conditioning company who assured me this was normal and fine and would not stink forever. The kids got dressed and headed out the door, I drank a gallon of coffee, and our Monday life got back on track.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Dear Lord...
I find myself praying for my kids ever more frequently. When they were babies I prayed that they would sleep through the night and that they would not die in their sleep. I prayed for fevers and ear aches to go away. I prayed for rashes to clear up and for coughs to break loose.
I still pray those prayers, except the death by sleep one because we grew out of that one when we gave up the crib. Now I have added new ones.
I pray that they would listen to their teachers while at school. I pray that they would be protected on the playground. I pray that they will only have kind and honest friends. I pray and I pray and I pray.
Sometimes my prayers for them are really prayers for myself. I pray things like,"Dear God, please make me love this child unconditionally like You do. Especially when they are squirting toothpaste in each other's hair."
The point is that I keep praying. I don't know how to do this thing called "Parenting" any other way.
I still pray those prayers, except the death by sleep one because we grew out of that one when we gave up the crib. Now I have added new ones.
I pray that they would listen to their teachers while at school. I pray that they would be protected on the playground. I pray that they will only have kind and honest friends. I pray and I pray and I pray.
Sometimes my prayers for them are really prayers for myself. I pray things like,"Dear God, please make me love this child unconditionally like You do. Especially when they are squirting toothpaste in each other's hair."
The point is that I keep praying. I don't know how to do this thing called "Parenting" any other way.
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