Women's Life Seminar

I've been asked to be a part of a very special day at our church. It's a day designed for women who need to breathe. It's for women who need to slow down. It's for women who need to slow down and hear a fresh word from God. So, you know, all women.
I'm really excited that God spoke to the leaders/organizers of this event and urged them to reach out to all women in this way. There will be sessions on nutrition, fitness, essential oils, fashion, and so much more. I'm going to be speaking on simplifying family life. You can choose three sessions to sit it on and have a nice lunch. It's totally for you...You the Mom, You the Wife, You the Grandma, You the Daughter, You the Teacher, You the Pharmacist, You the Baker... You in all the hats you wear.
It's a Saturday, so it may mean shuffling your schedule a bit. It might mean that someone else takes over carpool for soccer that day or that the laundry doesn't get folded until the evening. You are worth it though. God loves you and would love for you to take a few hours to slow down and possibly hear a word from him.
Want to sign up? You can do it here.
I'm praying for you already. I am trusting that the day will be a blessing for all of us.

Because He Lives

I don't remember the first time I heard the Bill Gaither song "Because He Lives" but it's always been in the soundtrack of my spiritual life. We sang it frequently in my church growing up and, if I close my eyes and take a breath, I can still see our Director of Music, Earl, swaying his arms this way and that to the rhythm.

I remember my mom playing it on the piano at home. Her piano playing was rough and she read very little music. She pounded out chords by ear and hymns from our Baptist Hymnal were her favorites. She struggled to sing and play at the same time so sometimes she would stop and just belt out, "I know-oh-oh He holds my future. Life is worth the living just because He lives!"

My memories of my mom's funeral are hit or miss. I remember only flashes of moments and I guess that's okay. I remember a few of the people that spoke and the funny stories they told. I remember Chuck holding my hand ever so tightly through the entire service. We'd only dated a few months and it was a lot to ask of a nineteen-year-old but he held me up that day emotionally and physically. I remember my pastor reminding us all that suicide does not equal eternal damnation (even though there were many in the crowd who had already told me they believed that to be true). And I remember Iretta Stephens bellowing the words to "Because He Lives" through her tears; her voice declaring the power of the cross amidst the greatest grief most of us had ever faced.

I left that church (and that town) so many years ago but every time I hear "Because He Lives" I am transported back to some of the most beautiful and horrific memories of my life.
A few days ago I was driving home from work in my truck and had the radio on. My thoughts were racing through the schedule of the week - the lists, the to-do's, and the what's nexts. I was really only halfway paying attention to the songs that were playing, let alone the lyrics. Apparently my subconscious was though because as I turned onto the side road that leads to my house tears started streaming. They were streaming in a way that demanded I pull over. Matt Maher was singing, "Because He Lives" in a new and magnificent format. Have you heard it? (Hear it here.)

"I'm alive! I'm alive! Because He lives!"

I've gone through a lot in my life. Many times I've brushed it off as if it's no big deal because I know I'm not the only one to know suffering. I've also had amazing greatness. I've swept a lot of that under the rug as well. But to say it's all nothing - either the good or the bad - is to negate the power of Christ that has brought me to the other side.

"Let my song join the one that never ends!"

I have been a victim and I have victimized. I have been sinned against and I have sinned. I have been sick and I have celebrated health. But because He lives I can face tomorrow. He holds my life and my future in His hands.Everything good in my life is because of what Christ has done for me. His death and resurrection make all the good possible. He has allowed me to walk through darkness so that I can rejoice in His light. I cry out so often because the rain lasts so long but it's because I have tasted the Son and my heart yearns to revel in His warmth.

"I'm alive! I'm alive! Because He lives!"

Eleven Year Old Girls Are Fun

Yesterday was the last day of break and my kids were tired of looking at my face. Don't say it isn't so. I could see it in their eyes. Luckily for them, they both were invited to go somewhere besides our house with someone who wasn't me. It all worked out.
The hilarity that is an eleven year old girl though...I don't even know what to do with her. It was a cold morning. Cold for Houston. And extra cold for my Texas babies who don't understand Northern Cold. It was cold.
My son came downstairs dressed as if he was ready for a blizzard. I sent him up to take a few layers off. My daughter came down in cute little sweatpants and a short sleeved tee.
Me - "Sweetie it's cold out. You may want to consider a different outfit."
Her - Blank face
Me - "Do you hear me? You may want to think about some other clothing."
Her - Blank face
Me - "I'm just saying that while what you have on is cute, it might not be warm enough."
Her - (On the verge of tears) "I don't even know what you mean!"
Me - (Sighing) "Okay, calm down. I'm suggesting that what you have on might not keep you warm enough today, especially if you go outside. You should change."
She stormed up the stairs and into her room.
Me - (15 minutes later) "Are you ready? It's time to leave."
She walks out in same shirt but has changed sweats to capri leggings.
Me - "When I suggested that it was cold outside and that you should change clothes, I meant into something that would keep you warm. Not something that would protect you less. Please go to your room and put on long pants, long sleeve shirt, socks, shoes, and a coat. Be back down here in five minutes."
Her - (Running back to her room) "I don't know why you love Seth more than me!!!"

Right.
Parenting.
This was one of those moments that caused a flashback of my mom saying, "I hope you one day have a daughter who is even half the trouble you are!"

Mission accomplished, Mom.

Technology Goal

Our Christmas vacation has been marred a bit by technology. On Monday, Chuck bought a wifi extender. It was supposed to be no big deal they said. It was supposed to be an easy installation they said. It would allow every room of our house receive strong, fast signals they said. Hmmm. Technology is not always everything it's cracked up to be.
Santa brought the kids Disney's Infinity 2.0 with all the Marvel Avengers. It would've been awesome had our Play Station 3 not needed an update and Play Station hadn't been hacked. The update took hours. Hours are more manageable for an adult than for 9 and 11 year old kids.
This morning, over breakfast, my daughter said, "I wonder what Bible times would've been like if everyone had laptops and smart phones. Do you think people like Paul would've been able to talk to more people about Jesus? Like maybe he could have just texted his friends to come over to grill some burgers and talk about Jesus."
Hmmm. As I cleaned up the kitchen I couldn't help but think about that possibility. The Nativity? Selfies of Mary and Baby Jesus? Joseph taking Instagram photos with soft vignettes and hashtags #blessedbabymomma #sonofgod ?
I shook that one off.
Sermon on the Mount live streaming? Fishes and loaves miracle on YouTube? Pentecost via Skype?
Technology has changed our lives for the better in so many areas but we rely so heavily on it that the slightest glitch seem to render us practically useless. Shelby's question made me think about Paul, and all the others on mission in the bible, and how good they were at being present. They loved the ones they could while they could where they could.
One of my goals for 2015 is to be more present. To put my phone down, close the laptop cover, and look into the eyes of those around me. I want to show love where it's needed and receive love when it's given. To make the best of technology when I can but not be ruled by it. What are some of your goals for next year?

The Time Came

It's been one of those mornings. The kind where there's too many tasks and not enough minutes. Everyone needed to be somewhere, doing something, and everyone needed my full attention. It's Christmas Break and everyone is full of cheer and ready to go.
I'm still working though. Christmas Eve is kind of a big deal when you work for the church so there's still planning to do and tasks to tackle.
I'm also working my Wildtree business. It's a business but also a ministry. I want to help people find peace in their kitchen and be better prepared for healthy family meals. I fully realize the irony here, folks. I'm stressed over helping people de-stress.
There's laundry to fold and dogs to be walked and groceries to be shopped. I've got lists all over the counter and my phone is chiming reminders every five minutes.
Stop!
That's the word I heard in the middle of a pity party I was planning in my head.
Stop!
Okay, God. What do I do?
I went into my bedroom to sit in my rocker. I opened my Celebrate Recovery Bible because, frankly, I needed the Word of God to come packaged with recovery. I shut my eyes and held it for a minute, just trying to find my center.
God? I can't find my center.
Stop!
I opened to Luke 2. It was the only passage I could think of in the moment...I'm sure because of all the Christmas planning as of late. I read. Slowly. I read.
Suddenly a phrase practically jumped off the page. I phrase I've read a thousand times before...
the time came.
Mary and Joseph had traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem to be counted in the census. Mary was with child. The Child. And while they were there...
the time came.
The time. The time that all creation had been waiting for. The time that the eternal clock had been ticking towards. The time. Jesus.
He was God's promise fulfilled in a tiny baby. He was the All-in-All. He was The Everlasting. He was Time. It was His Time.
Suddenly my time seemed insignificant. My tasks and my lists and my alarms could all be on hold for a bit. Jesus has come. I could sit in that peace for a minute. That's where I'd find my center.
My time had come. The time for me to get over myself. The time for me to remember that Christmas is about the amazing gift of Jesus and the salvation that he gives. The time had come to be still and know His Peace.
My lists and tasks were still waiting on me when I came out of the room. I still had family waiting on me. Nothing about my day had changed. I had changed. I didn't need to be frazzled and chaotic. I didn't need to huff and stomp. I found my center and it is Jesus.

Celebration of Grace

I read a quote the other day that said, "The art of really celebrating life isn't about getting it right - but about receiving Grace. The sinners and the sick, the broken, the discouraged, the wounded, and burdened - we are the ones who get to celebrate grace!" It was Ann Voskamp who said the words but they could have come straight from my own heart.
It's a theory I've been wrestling with for quite some time. We live in a society that screams "Get it right!" every day. Your pie must be firm but soft and your home must be clean enough for health but with enough mess to make others comfortable. Your hair can not be gray and your eyebrows must be full...because thin eyebrows are soooo last year. Your parenting must be without flaws and your schedule must be the perfect balance of home, work, school, party,etc. Your children must be well behaved yet not robots and your spouse should always be supportive and have a twinkling gleam to his or her teeth when smiling.
All those things are lovely, although I now have to paint on eyebrows after years of over-plucking to get the "perfect thin" and sometimes my work/party balance is off. It's too much. Really. I'm done.
God calls me, as the old alter-call hymn says, just as I am. Broken. Wounded. Burdened. Thin browed. He takes it all and wraps me in a giant blanket of grace where I get to curl up in his arms and experience his love.
In this season of frivolity and celebration I am often tempted with the perfect sparkle and just the right amount of twinkle. I want the brass music to be loud and clear and the bells to be bright and clear. I want just the right sprinkling of glitter.
That wasn't how the season started though. It started thousands of years ago in a dirty stable with a teen mom. There were sheep and probably cows. It was less than ideal and I feel certain there were no icicle lights. It wasn't how a king should enter the world. It was smelly. It was broken. It was discouraging. It was full of grace.
God became man so that we might celebrate grace. He did it for the sick and the broken and the wounded. He did it for moms like me who get over stressed and drink too much wine and eat too much pie. He did it for the dad who stresses over finances and therefore works too many hours. He did it for the kids that can't sit still and for the grouchy old people that throw rocks at kids. (Okay, I've never actually seen that happen anywhere other than a Bugs Bunny cartoon. But it could happen. And grace would be there.)
The celebration comes from the gift of grace. The celebration is the grace. I'm grateful for the offering of grace.

Why I Love Thanksgiving

There are so many things I love about Thanksgiving. The food, the people, the relaxed atmosphere of the day...
Thanksgiving has been an evolution for Chuck and I. It didn't start off as a merry, easy, fun day. At the start of our marriage we did as most young, married couples do. We relied on family to schedule our holidays for us. The only problem with that is that most of the family saw us only in their after thoughts. We had several years of realizing everyone was either out of town or not coming to visit only days or hours before the big day. Add to the mix awkward relations with other branches of the family tree (I'm sure no one else out there has that, right?) and we came quickly to the realization that we needed to set our own holiday schedule and tradition. We were married and had kids on the way so why not?
We decided to not wait on invitation any more from family or friends but to set our own plan in motion of how we wanted to celebrate. We set down the guideline that anyone can come as long as they enjoy eating and relaxing and don't want to participate in drama or stuffiness. Thanksgiving is for giving thanks, not headaches.
We make way too much food every year. We start the day with Bloody Mary's and move on to beer and wine after noon. We chop, slice, marinade, baste, saute, and fry until the house is full of the richest smells our noses and hearts can handle. We say Grace in a big circle, holding hands with whoever decided to join us. Sometimes that includes family. Sometimes it includes friends. Sometimes we have coworkers or neighbors show up. Sometimes it's a grand mixture of all the above.
I never set the table - it's all buffet style from the kitchen. We use the big, thick, sectioned paper plates because really, who wants to do dishes after all that eating and drinking? Not this girl! We talk about sports, religion, faith, politics...all the things you are supposed to avoid in mixed company. We share the ways God has showed up and surprised the socks off of us. We hug through the memories of aches when God had to carry us this year. We laugh at all the blessings and goodness.The kids run wild, high on too much cheese and pie and then crash hard early because the day has been filled with fun and very few boundaries.
The food is so much a part of the day but less because of it being food and more because of the relationships that swirl around the making and the prep and the eating and the clean up. It's a day full of love and laughter and I wouldn't have it any other way. I would never be so bold to say that our way of doing Thanksgiving is better than anyone else's. It's just the way we figured out that it works for us. And I'm so thankful we figured it out.


Here's something else I've figured out. It's my corn casserole. I've tried several recipes over the years in hopes of recreating the magical version my mom used to make. This is pretty darn close.

15 oz can yellow and white sweet corn, whole kernel, drained
15 oz can cream style corn
8 oz box of Jiffy corn muffin mix
1 cup plain Greek yogurt or sour cream
1 stick (half cup) of butter, melted

In a big bowl, stir all of the above ingredients together until just mixed. Pour into a greased casserole pan (8x8 for thicker casserole; 9x12 for thinner). Bake at 350 degrees for 45 - 60 minutes, or until golden and firm in the middle. This recipe serves about six people. I usually double or triple it for Thanksgiving. You'll probably have to adjust the baking time if you double it.