Hanging On

Some days you just hang on. I'm not sure where this pig came from or who dressed him in such finery but he hangs on to the top of my desk thermometer and watches me work. Every now and then he gets knocked down by a wild file folder or a flying ink pen. I'll find him laying on the floor, legs sprawled in distress, and I gently place him back on his perch.
There's something about this little guy that makes me smile. I appreciate his hanging ability. I get that feeling. VBS is next week and I feel like I'm just hanging on. The details are all coming together. I have plenty of help. The supplies are sitting in large boxes, piled haphazardly in my office. It's coming and it's going to be great - I know it in my logical brain. There's always an anxiety that rises in my illogical brain however, the week before as the what-ifs and what-abouts rush in like bayou flood waters. The self doubt, self pity, and selfishness whisper loudly in my ear and beg for me to let go of my faith in a God who always comes through. They whisper like a 4-year-old whispers in church - it's really a hushed yell - in an effort for me to take my eyes off of my Father who loves me, loves family, and loves the idea of blessing families.
In an effort to fend off the whispers I wore my comfy clothes to work today, stopped for a giant coffee, and have turned the praise music up loud in my office. It's going to be a great day, VBS is going to happen, families are going to be blessed, and I'm going to hang on through it all.

Landon

I'm tired of saying good-bye to children. I'm tired of watching kids suffer. I'm tired of death's sting.
My friend, Landon, went to be with Jesus last night. He's been battling cancer for a couple of years and fought like no other kid I've ever seen. He was a beast. He was amazing. He inspired people all over the world with his strength.
He will be missed.
Landon's family has gone to our church for many years. I had his oldest sister in confirmation class 5 years ago. She graduates from high school this weekend.
Both of his sisters love him ferociously.
Landon was in the nursery with my daughter and they grew up in Sunday School together. Landon's mom, Jaymi, was a Sunday School Shepherd for their class up until a few months before Landon was diagnosed. How do I tell my girl that he's gone after she prayed so diligently? How do I minister to all the kids this Sunday who've been praying for healing?
The truth of God's healing is that sometimes it happens on the other side of glory. Sometimes God allows us to be softened and broken in prayer in order to draw closer to Him. I don't believe God answered us with a "no." I believe he answered us with a "not here." Landon did receive his healing. It was just in a more miraculous way than our earthly minds can comprehend. Landon fought the fight and won the race as he crossed into the arms of Jesus. That's the promise and the hope of the resurrection that we receive through our baptism in Christ Jesus.

Mother's Day

 
 



Mother's Day is tricky. Every year I really want it to be a day that allows my family to celebrate me. That's what it's for, right? Family celebrating mom?  Every year though, since I've been a mom, it's a day that leaves me physically and emotionally exhausted.
I love my kids with all my heart. I prayed for them to be my kids. Chuck and I tried for years to bring these kids into existence. They are each a blessing to my heart in ways I will never be able to make them understand. My heart swells with joy and pride when they smile at me.
I still hate Mother's Day. It's a reminder that my own mom gave up on life - and me - and succumbed to depression, taking her own life. It's a reminder that being my mom was not enough if she could no longer be a wife.
I hate that.
I want to focus on what I have. I want to revel in the flowers and the grilling of yummy foods prepared just for me. I want to lay back with a book and put my feet up and fall asleep with my kids laughter lilting on the breeze.
"Focus on your blessings!" others suggest.
"Look at what you have, not what you have not!" some have said.
Yes. Yes. Those are great ideas that I have tried many times over. My heart aches anyway. I'd rather skip the day altogether. My husband and kids do a great job of appreciating me on any given day. I don't need a special focus day. Maybe next year we can go away somewhere where there is no Mother's Day. Is there a place? I should start planning now.

Chaos in the Still

This is one of my favorite places in the whole entire world. I don't have to go far to get there because it's right in my back yard. One of the best times of day is early, before the heat of Houston becomes outrageous and the humidity is still packing it's energy to unleash on the day.

I like to take my coffee out and sit as still as possible. This is a feat in and of itself for an extrovert. Being quiet and still goes against most of who I am but yet I find it a necessity lately. I can sit with my feet propped up and watch the chaos of the yard.
It truly is chaotic, which may be why I can go there to be still. The water is flowing from the spa into the pool in a gentle rushing while the wind is making light waves on the tanning deck. The bees swoop in and out of the bottle brush flowers right behind my head, forcing me to be statuesque as to remain unnoticed. The blue jay sees me and is angry that I'm in his yard but when he realizes how still I am he makes his way to the feeder with the cardinal. The sparrows that have recently built a family home in my dryer vent race back and forth to the feeder, making lightening fast darts through the porch. The doves are on the ground cooing as they pick up the seeds the cardinal and blue jay knock down below. The branches on the tree need trimmed so they are scraping the gutters with a low screech and the squirrels are using  the branches as a personal walkway from the treetop to the roof of the house.
All of this noise amidst my quiet time reminds me how I need to take time to be still and breathe. I have to remember that God is God and that the world spins and moves regardless of my noticing. Really though, it's so much sweeter when I notice.

Deceiving Eyes

As I sit at my desk, knee deep in both Holy Week and VBS prep, I have been thinking a lot about Jesus and where I go to find him. I was reading about the women going to the tomb on that famous Sunday morning, fully expecting to find the body of Jesus. He had told them that he wouldn't be there yet they cried and wondered and fretted that his body had been stolen. They were so wrapped up in their own doubt that they didn't automatically recognize The Lord when he stood before them.
Then, this morning, as I was drinking coffee and perusing Yahoo News, I ran across this story of a snake that was found dead with a centipede hanging out of it's body. It has really awesome and gross pictures (You can read the whole story at this link.) and I couldn't help but think of how that snake thought it had just bagged a really good meal. It thought it knew exactly what it was seeing. It looked at that centipede and thought, "Yum! I've hit the jackpot!"and it ended up killing her.
How often do I think I'm looking at something good, something righteous, something holy, only to find out that it could've been the death of me? How often do I get wrapped up in my own thinking and my own actions and totally miss out on the beauty of the Savior standing beside me all along? How many times have I felt certain that I had hit the jackpot, found toxicity, and totally missed a blessing Jesus was holding out before me?
Today my prayer is that I would have eyes to see truth and that I will have wisdom to reach out to Jesus.

Prayers for Peace

Some days I think that I have problems. I think that my dilemma of beef or chicken for dinner is something to spend time pondering and that my place in the car line is a stress.

Then I get a text from a friend who is pregnant and her blood pressure is too high and she's been put on bed rest to protect her health and the health of the baby.

Some days life falls out of perspective and I see that my worries are not worries at all but instead inconveniences of a suburban mom.

I've placed a link below for a beautiful song. This has been my prayer for peace lately...whether I'm thinking about chicken or my friend.

See it here.

Poison Drink

Someone shared a special nugget of truth with me today that said, "Resentment is the poison we drink expecting someone else to die."

I've been mulling it over all day and can't find an ounce of untruth in it. I'd go so far as to add "unforgiving spirit" to the dose of resentment because I think they are toxic together. Do I have that mastered? No. Do I ever drink the poison? Almost every day.

I wish that I could say otherwise but it's true. So often in life we skip over conversations that could be awkward or painful because we don't want to go through the work of it all and then we end up hanging on to resentments for months or years.

There are so many areas of my life that I wish I'd set boundaries or had hard conversations years ago. There are people I've allowed to take up too much space in my head because I didn't have the courage or the maturity to take a stand either towards or against.

To put it on paper (or screen) makes the process seem so much simpler than it truly is. Forgiveness is tough and does not come naturally for mankind. It's a choice I have to make every single day and one that I can only do with the help of God. Some days I'm more open to his grace than others. Some days I fail miserable and I swallow a shot of poison willingly.

So how do I move forward with less poison? I think I need a lot of Jesus and good friends who will speak truth to me when I'm being hard. I need to surround myself with truth-speakers who will put their hands over my mouth when they see me raising a shot of resentment to my lips. I need to bow before God daily and beg to be reminded of the grace he has blanketed me with so that I can offer it to others. I also think I need to value myself as a precious creation made in the image of God and demand that I be treated accordingly. I can make a choice to not allow myself to be  a door mat. I can make a choice to be treated with respect. It all goes hand in hand in the walk towards health.