Downward to upward, inward to outward

Hello loves, it's good to be writing to you again.  I first have to confess something to you.  I've been an inconsiderate friend to many of you. And I'm sorry.  We've got big news in our family and after I told a couple of folks, I quit telling people and several of you have found out either through the tangled grapevine or by me mentioning something in a passing conversation.  And that's not fair.  So here it is, I'm telling you all.

We're...not....having a baby!  (Gotcha)

No it's not that.  But we are moving. To Georgia, I can't yet admit Atlanta, so I say the Atlanta area.  But we will, in the near future, be living closer to hotlanta than to the queen city.   Sigh......

You can imagine when husband first told me the news.

"Hey, guess what, I got promoted!  And we're moving.  To Atlanta."

Tears.

Lots of tears.

It wasn't fair to him.  He has worked so hard for this and devotes himself fully to providing so that I can stay home and raise toddling A. And not only stay at home, but have nice things too.  But in the moment the reaction was sadness.

Then anger.

I recently read in Soul Detox by Craig Groeschel that there are two ways to express anger.  You're either a "spewer" or a "stewer."  And man do I spew.  Groeschel says "a spewer has a short fuse and a hot temper. If you’re a spewer, when you get angry, everyone around you knows it."

Yea, I spewed.  And spewed.  And spewed some more.  Proverbs 14:17 says "A quick-tempered person does foolish things."

And I did some really stupid foolish things.  Like not congratulating my husband.  Like not focusing on the fact that God is still on his throne.  Like pouting and crying and refusing to see the positive side of this whole thing.

I kept playing the same reel over and over.  I've lived here six years.  I got married here. We bought our first house here. We became members of our first church and husband was saved here.  Our first child was born here.  I've found the best families I've ever worked for here. I have a wonderfully gigantic network of people who'd I'd do anything for and they'd do anything for me, here, right here, not in Atlanta. For pete's sake.  WHY would you take me away from this God???

Twice now, in two separate books (coincidence? I think not) I've read about how we tend to focus on the why of things instead of the who.

"Sooner or later we all encounter situations that leave us baffled. Whether a single event or a series of circumstances that assault us with shock and awe, we’re left with the unanswerable questions of why? Why me? Why now? Why again? When we ask such questions to the exclusion of all else, we can miss opportunities to encounter God in our midst. Yet the invitation to awaken the wonder all around us remains: even in the affliction, even in the loss, even in the pain, God’s presence remains." -Margaret Feinberg, Wonderstruck

Feinberg goes on to say "Laying hold of such wonder requires us to shift our question from why to who: (emphasis mine) Who will walk with me? Who is the source of light in my darkness? Who always proves faithful? As we begin asking these questions, our focus shifts from downward to upward, from inward to outward... In the most opaque circumstances of life, even when he feels a million miles away, the knowledge of the presence of God allows us to laugh when everything else says we should be crying." 


My very wise husband said to me not long ago, "This is going to be good for us."  But I couldn't understand that.

Until now.

We're being given the opportunity to sell our house and walk away owing the bank nothing.  In this market, who can say that?  We're selling our car and losing a car payment, and that car's gas and insurance costs.  We'll be able to arrive in GA very close to debt free.  What a blessing.  What a God thing.

I'm not saying this is easy.  Nor am I saying that I'm 100% okay with this change.  What I am saying is that instead of crying I'm allowing myself to laugh.  Instead of looking downward I'm looking up.

And I know exactly Who is looking back.

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You can probably tell by now that I am not a writer.  I've only ever taken those easy writing classes in high school.  Okay so I did take one poetry class in college and I barely passed.  Apparently all poetry is not supposed to rhyme.  Now you know.

I come here and write when something I read or hear or experience sticks with me.  Something I think will benefit another person, something God puts on my heart to get out there, so, I pray, he can use to his glory.   But because I'm not a writer I'm not always motivated to come here and blog.  I'll roll ideas around in my head for weeks with full intention of coming here and spitting it out.  Then wine, the couch, reality t.v., stuff happens and the last thing I want to do is stare at my computer.  I even started this post, had to run up stairs 3 times during the course of starting it to soothe an unwilling to go to bed Toddling A, gave up on the post for the night and then decided to try again.  Stuff happens.

All this to say that I apologize for the lengths between my posts.  I promise you that most everything I feel God telling me to write winds up on this blog.  I just may not do it in a timely fashion.  But I do it.  And you read it.  So THANK YOU!

Kay.

Ever feel like a failure?  Or maybe not a complete failure, but just not quite living up to expectations or standards?  Yea, me too. I think most things we do, unless we're experts at them, make us feel somewhat inadequate.  We could make a really long list together.  But then we'd all probably feel more like failures because our list isn't long enough.  It's why we have the term "epic fail" and a website devoted to such fails.

 
Motherhood, for starters, can quickly make you feel like a pencil in crayon packaging. Just wrong. And confused. At least there's 12 of them.  It could have been worse. 

I was in the mall a few days ago, at the soft play area.  The one with 65 snotty nosed kids sneezing all over each other.  Toddling A was one of them.  And as she was sitting on the gigantic cat wiping snot bubbles from her face, another toddling person approached her and became quite upset that he too could not ride the cat.  Toddling A wasn't moving and her toddling friend wasn't giving in.  Mama bear quickly approached and began apologizing for her son's behavior, explaining how she keeps telling him to be nice and not to harass other children. I of course shot back that Avery does the same thing and we've been working on that too and yada yada yada we're both trying not to look like bad moms because of our children's actions please see that we're trying not to fail at this and screw our children up forever.   If you've ever been in an indoor play place oozing with stay at home moms you know what I mean.  All these women trying to prove to someone, to no one, that we're not failing.  That we have it together.  That our children are polite and kind.

Then I read this:

"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, ³⁶ I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me (Matthew 25:35-36.) Who get's hungrier than a newly awakened baby? Who is more naked than a recently born child? Who is more a stranger than an infant who comes into this world knowing no one? Who gets sick more often than a little one, who seems inclined toward ear infections diaper rash, and colic?"  - Sacred Parenting, Gary Thomas

Then in Matthew 25:40 "I tell you the truth whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."

Mothers, you are "doing exactly what Jesus tells us will be most rewarded in heaven." - Thomas

So I'm doing those things for Toddling A.  I'm trying really hard to be a good mom. I know mall mama was too. 

30 second dance party. Go.

 

Wasn't that fun?  Welcome back.  

Really, time is up.  Stop dancing.  Finish reading.

Because, there's this other thing I'm trying really hard to be good at.  And feeling like I'm not.

My relationship with God.  This is the area where, when stuff happens and that relationship gets pushed aside and I go too long without spending time with him, writing an apology full of excuses and publishing it on my blog doesn't get me slap happy back to square one.  Just like any relationship, time spent together is the only thing that will make it grow.  So to grow a relationship with God I can't push it aside, think about doing it and finally getting around to it.  I have to be intentional. And I try.

Throughout the Bible we're told to seek.

Psalm 105:4
Look to the LORD and his strength; seek his face always.

Psalm 119:2
Blessed are they who keep his statutes and seek him with all their heart.

Luke 11:9
So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.

So when I looked up what it means to seek something, the dictionary says 

a : to go in search of : look for

b : to try to discover 

 

Bingo. Bongo.

 

I am searching. And I am trying.  Just like I'm trying to be good at mothering.  My heart is in it. To win it. And you know something.  God knows that.  Which is why he promises to reward those who care for the least of these.   Because he knows it's not easy.  And although God did not design having a relationship with him to be hard, he does know that because we're human and we have our "stuff," building a relationship with him takes work.  

 

I recently had my soul filled with this breath of fresh air. It's from a devotional book titled Jesus Calling.

"Don't let feelings of failure weigh you down. Instead, try to see yourself as I see you. First of all, I am delighted by your deep desire to walk closely with Me through your life. I am pleased each time you initiate communication with me. In addition, I notice the progress you have made since you first resolved to live in My Presence... Each time you plow your way through the massive distractions to communicate with Me, you achieve a victory."

God knows about our stuff and our trying to plow through our stuff and he loves us anyway.   

Wanna dance with me again?

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Calling all mamas

Or mommys or moms or mothers.

If you've wondered if you'll ever be able to sleep through the night again, I'm calling you.

If you've ever been in public wearing something that was crusty, stained, sticky or all of the above, I'm calling you.

If you've stood in a doorway for ten minutes waiting on your tiny person to find that toy so you can be on time to the play date you really didn't have time for anyway, I'm calling you.

If you've handled a nuclear meltdown in Target because your tiny person has lost that toy, I'm calling you.

If you've survived a tiny person nuclear meltdown anywhere, I'm calling you.

If you've ever literally looked like this lady
 
I'm calling you.

If you've planned your lunch around nap time in an effort to actually be able to sit down and avoid tiny poaching hands, I'm calling you.  (maybe that's just me, hey I really like my food)

If you've looked at the clock and thought "only one hour 'til bedtime," I'm calling you.

If you've fallen asleep in a toddler bed or on the floor next to a crib, I'm calling you.

Mama's I'm calling you.

These tiny people are demanding.  They're embarrassing.  They're just plain weird.  But they're ours.  They're yours, they're mine.  Together we can do this.

Next time you're a witness to another mama's tiny person having a nuclear meltdown, don't just stare.  Help.  And I don't mean by saying, "Oh I've been there," or by offering other not so great advice on how to handle the situation.  Honestly, that situation is not handle-able.  Only survivable. Tell that mama that everything will be okay.  That she is a good mama.  And that you like her child, screaming and snot and all.  Encourage her. 

I'm calling you to stand up, to reach out, to help each other to not feel so alone in this mama world.  Because we have all been there, we've all done that and we've all felt as if we're not good enough. As if we're messing up our children forever.

So don't judge.

Don't criticize.

And don't offer advice unless it's legitimately asked for. 

Love her.  And love her children.

If you do this for me and I do this for you and our mama friends start doing this for other mama friends and they start doing this for their friends and so on and so on, who knows, maybe the world will start seeing motherhood as less of something to "get through" and more of something that's a privilege to belong to.

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Dear God,

This morning I need you, like Toddling A needs Mickey Mouse, but in a more therapeutic fashion.

I'm searching.   And if you're asking "what are you searching for?" then join the club.

I don't know.

In the past two years my relationship with You has strengthened like a body builder on 'roids.  It's awesome.  I have a LONG way to go I know, but I'm miles past where I used to be. I don't really have an accurate count for You, but I've read handfuls of life giving, spirit growing books along with reading chronologically through the Bible. Parenting in itself has grown my faith leaps and gi-freaking-normous bounds because You know only Your grace gets me through that daily battle. 

Kay.

Even with all that, my wheels are spinning.  I'm stuck. Or, I feel stuck.

Here's where I'm (yes I'm ending this with a preposition) at:

• Raising and staying at home with a 2 going on 16 yr old
• Nannying a 2.5 and 4 yr old 
• Implementing a curriculum with said children (it's awesome, www.abcjesuslovesme.com)
• Leading a mom's with young children small group
• Participating in another young womens small group
• Leading the preschool team at one of our church's multi-sites
• Captaining a softball team
• Visiting grandparents every Wednesday night
• Taking an almost year long family mentoring class with the hubs
• Attending boot camp 3 days a week at 5:30 AM (aaahhhh, it hurts)
• Babysitting many Friday and Saturday nights

I tell You all this not for a pat on the back or for applause, not to tell You how much I'm doing but to show You how much I'm not doing.  Hence the feeling of stickyness.

I have this overwhelming, all-consuming desire to be used for Your purposes.  Not for You to just use me, but USE me.  I want to be Your hands, Your feet.  And I came to the realization yesterday, that I've crammed my schedule in an effort to achieve that.  But am I?

Motherhood is a ministry. I know.

Preschool team leaderhood is a ministry. I'm aware.

Captainhood of a softball team is...well...fun.

My dilemma is, I know these things are good and I attempt with all my heart to make them honor You but let's get real.  I'm not holding orphaned babies in Africa, starting a non-profit to rescue sex slaves or even serving the impoverished of the city I live in.  When our church encourages us to invite our unchurched friends for a particular series, I have no one to invite.  All my local friends are already Your followers or even attend the same church.  That seems good, but it isn't.

Your son didn't recruit his 12 disciples and then hang out with only them. Thank you for that.

I am praying, more like crying out, for You to present opportunities that allow me to further Your kingdom.

So, here's my question for you. Ready or not. But You're ready, I know, You're always ready.  Thank you for that too.

Do I already have those opportunities to further Your kingdom right in front of my nose?  Should I quit searching for more?

Or

Do I pack up my bags and my responsibilities and go looking to make a difference on a larger scale?

Okay so that was 3 questions.

But that's it.

Same time tomorrow?

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One crafty, shady dude

A question was recently brought up in a small group I attend, and it's had me reeling and searching for answers ever since.   A fellow groupie asked

"Can Satan hear our thoughts?"

Instinctively my answer was a resounding OF COURSE!  We've all battled those negative, depressing, want to sleep til tomorrow thoughts.  That has to be Satan, right?

But then, the more I broke it down and the more I talked through it, the more I became to understand that he actually cannot.

Then how the h-e-double hockey sticks does he have such an evil impact on us individually and culturally?

As the infinitely wise DJ Lance Rock says, "Ah-break it down"  (if you get that reference you're allowed to keep reading, if not, well youtube yo gabba gabba then I'll let you come back) 

Think of the person who knows you best.

Picture their face.

Got it?

For me, it's my husband, R.  Husband R knows me inside and out.  So much so, that he can consistently tell you my next move.  Throw me in a particular situation and he could accurately predict how I'll respond.  Ask him what's the one thing you could do to drive me bonkers and he'll have you traipsing across my newly mopped floor with your "grassy I just mowed a wet lawn" shoes.  It's possible he knows that from experience.  My point is, he doesn't just know me, he knows me.  But can he hear my thoughts?  Nope.  Can he read my mind?  Golly gee, I hope not.

Now, plug Satan into that example.  But magnify his abilities by infinity and give him the ultimate goal of making you the worst most horrible furthest away from God person that you could possibly be.   And he has unlimited resources with which to do that.  And, on top of all that, he's your worst nightmare mixture of creepy and clever.

He watches you're every move.  He can predict how you'll respond.  He knows what drives you bonkers.  And he uses that.  He's so good at it that he actually appears to be reading your mind, but he's not.  He's just incredibly crafty.  And I don't mean in the scrap-booking, home decor kinda way.

Recently I experienced the most head on direct attack from Satan that I have ever experienced in my entire life.  It had to do with our finances and the fact that we tithe and I don't work full time.  I just kept having these little thoughts creep into my head, "Stop tithing, think what you could do with that money.  Put Avery in daycare and go to work, she'll be fine and you'll have a real paycheck."  Both of these things are against what I believe God has called me to do and I was really struggling.  And I kept thinking to myself, fight it, this is Satan, he's taking over your brain.

But now I know he can't do that.  So just where did these thoughts come from?

Well, earlier that week Satan broke my garage door, well really I backed into it but it's because I was busy (which is Satan's number one way of getting in between us and God) and not paying attention.  That cost $500.  If Satan is so clever and knows so well what will set me off, then he knows having to shell out an unexpected five hundred bucks will do it.   The first thing I did was call Rob and tell him how upset I was and how we didn't have the money to fix this.  I asked all my friends to pray over our financial situation. I called my sister and angrily complained vented.  Guess who was listening....

Yup, you got it.  That crazy, crafty, clever, shady dude.

I just put weapons of warfare in his arsenal.  Armed him to take me down.  With my words alone, I gave him the knowledge that attack me financially and he could stand a chance at separating me from God's will.   He didn't implant thoughts into my head.  He didn't take over my brain.   He just listened.  For information from my own mouth, which, coincidentally flows from our heart, which the Bible plainly tells us is deceitful, without the help of the devil. 

So what happened?

Other things that cost money began to fall apart.  The garbage disposal broke, I got sick and had to go to the doctor, the dish washer quit working properly, gas prices went up.  And I began to think those thoughts, that if I changed the way I was living, to align myself with what the "world" would want me to do, that I'd have more money.

Look, I don't really know if Satan was hiding in the bottom of my garbage disposal with a screwdriver jabbing small holes into the bottom of it causing it to leak, but I do think he has the power to effect things like that.  Which in turn effects my thoughts.

Matthew 15:18-19 says  "...but what comes out of the mouth gets its start in the heart. It’s from the heart that we vomit up evil arguments, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, lies, and cussing. That’s what pollutes."  - The Msg

Notice it doesn't say that Satan pollutes.  It says what's in our heart pollutes our mouths.  Which Satan hears and has the power to use against us.

Hears the really fancy equation I've worked out in my mind

bad things happen just because that's life + you complain and yell loudly about it = Satan hears you and has the power to make more bad things happen

See, wasn't that fancy?

The takeaway is that you have the power to keep Satan out of your life.  Through focusing your heart on things of God.  Do this and your mouth will reflect the things of God.  And instead of Satan being able to use your words to tempt and corrupt you, he'll be sent running away like the wicked witch of the west screaming "I'm melting, I'm melting."

At least that's how it plays out in my head.

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It's all in the Handler

As we all know, the Olympics started this week.  And I must admit something to you.  I'm not that into them. 
I can hear you gasping. 
Shush it. 
I'm trying to type. 
Look, I get it.  Athletes train for their entire lives to win a circle of gold tied to a ribbon.  I'm sure it's exhilarating, really I'm not trying to be sarcastic.  But, I just don't get anything from watching them. So I turned the channel.  And as you would expect there wasn't much on, willing to compete with all you diehard Olympic viewers (pun intended.)  I finally settled on a dog show, I honestly don't even remember the name of it, but I like dogs so I watched.  It was an agility contest, you know, the kind where the dog runs 1,000 mph through tunnels and up ramps and over jumps, yea that one.

Tyson and I have even dabbled in it.

One of the dogs, lets call her Rosie (not her real name) messed up big time.  Rosie got lost, she couldn't figure out where to go next.  She recovered quickly though and finished the course but at the cost of a lot of points.  No way for her to win I thought.  But apparently in this contest each dog gets to go twice.  Rosie gets to go again, yay!  Who needs the Olympics with Rosie in action??  She completed her second course flawlessly and while I didn't watch the entirety of the show to see if Rosie won, I did catch an interview with Rosie and her owner.  The reporter asked in so many words,  "You had a fantastic run just now, what happened in the first heat?"  And her owner said "It's all in the handler. She doesn't know the course, I do. She's waiting on my cue, looking at me, asking 'Where do I go? Where do I go?'" 

How many times have we, like Rosie, gotten lost, only to be given a second, third and fourth chance, to try again where we first failed?  And how many times has God given us those chances?  Each new day is a re-do for me.  With every morning comes another shot at doing things right. Because that's the kind of God we serve. A God of mercy, forgiveness and grace.  And each day, we have a choice, do we navigate the course, aimlessly, on our own, or do we look to our Handler, with cherished uncertainty?

The difference is obviously, that Rosie is a dog following orders and her handler let her down. Rosie was doing as she'd been trained to do and was looking for direction. She didn't get any.  

Our God will never let us down.

He's always there ready to give us direction.

He will, without a doubt lead you through your course and across that finish line.

We just have to purposefully watch for his cues.

Intentionally look at him and ask, "Where do I go?"

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I lost my child, my mind and my cookies (almost)

In that exact order too.

It was terrible. Awful. 

We had just walked up the long pier from a lovely few hours spent at the beach when the terrible awful (phrase stolen from "The Help") happened.  There was a crowd of people standing around at the top of the pier waiting to use the showers/hoses. It wasn't like Concord Mills on Saturday morning crowded, but lets just say there were a ton of people hovering around trying to get sand out of who knows where. Seriously, why hasn't anyone invented a bikini bottom that doesn't fill up with so much sand that it looks like you've had an accident in your drawers?  Ladies can I get an amen?

Oh, back to the terrible awful, right.

Husband R heads off to the bathroom to change clothes while toddling A and I wait for our turn to rinse.  I'm not very good at sitting and waiting.  If I'm not being productive I feel like I'm wasting time.  So toddling A and I head over to the one square inch of open seating and I throw the beach bag onto the bench and begin organizing.  All the wet things in a pile and all the dry things in a pile.  Grab a beach towel, wrap all the wet things up and stuff them in the bag.  Grab the dry things and...toddling A?  Toddling A??  TODDLING A??? 

Child lost.

I look behind the bench, behind every single person there, no toddling A.  I begin yelling, "Has anyone seen a little girl in a purple bathing suit?"  Crickets...really, everyone just stared at me.  So I ask again, "HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BABY?"  No answer, I think one old lady with no teeth shook her head.  I give her some credit, I guess.  I run down the ramp towards the beach, I run the other way towards the parking lot.  I scream in at Husband R. "I can't find Toddling A, really I can't you need to get out here."  To which he replies, "I'm in my underwear!"  Great, just great.  My baby is missing and my husband is in his underwear.

Mind lost.

30 seconds, that felt like 900 hours, passed. Panic sets in.  Then I hear, "Is that her?"  And sure enough, here comes Toddling A, toddling, as she does, out of the women's bathroom.  She was terrified.  Less from her disappearance and more from the insane expression plastered across my face. I ran over to her, scooped her up and told her to NEVER again leave mommy's side.  She replies "Toddling A scare Mommy."  Nicely put my child, well done.

Cookies, almost, lost.

I held back the vomit and the tears but not the shaking.  Husband R, finally, fully clothed comes back out and gives me a sarcastic mother of year award.  I refuse to accept this award and we hurriedly and embarrassingly rush off to the car.

The terrible awful happened on Saturday, so I've had two days to replay the scene over and over again.  Where did I go wrong?  What can I change so this never ever ever ever happens again?

I was so concerned about standing around and not being productive.  I was focused on my beach bag, not paying attention.  And it's not like any of that really even mattered.
  
The moral of the story?

Get distracted by the insignificant and you'll lose sight of what's important.

So yes, from now on, there's less of the trivial things and more of Toddling A.  Less laptop and tv and more kisses and dance parties. Less feeling like I always have to be doing something and more sitting around snuggling. Not only do I never want to literally lose her again, but I also don't want to miss any of her growing up.

Who care's if my dry towel gets soaked by my sopping wet, sand filled bikini bottom anyways...

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Not really feeling the magic, Mike

I like facebook.  I can't deny it.  I like seeing pictures of my friend's babies, not so much pictures of their dinner (please stop), but I like keeping up with my friends.

Lately, though, I've been disappointed.  

Not in facebook itself.  But disappointed in the things I'm seeing pop up in my news feed.  I bet you, today, if I took a poll of the most popular thing being displayed on my home page, you'd see two words.

Magic Mike.

And I want to scream. Like wild banshee, red face, toddling A caliber scream.

I realize a lot of my friends on FB aren't Christians and not that that excuses them, but I can cut them some slack.  It's the friends I know that follow Christ and want to be Christ-like that make me shudder.

For those of you who aren't aware of this Magic Mike, it's a movie (being released today) that IMDB.com sums up as "A male stripper teaches a younger performer how to party, pick up women, and make easy money."

And there are Christ followers who want to see that?? 

***enter sound of my mind being bottled...err...boggled***

Kay.

Let's just dive into this..

Magic Mike is inspired by the true story of actor Channing Tatum, who himself plays the role of this so called Magic Mike.   I haven't seen this movie but I know from other movies that Channing is an attractive person.  I'll give you that.  But going to see a movie where he strips and picks up women just seems dangerously close to porn.  Don't get me wrong, I know this movie isn't porn, and go ahead and call me a prude for comparing this movie to it, but really I think this movie and porn are going after the same desire.  

Lust.

I'm convinced the person walking into the theater to watch this movie isn't saying "what an interesting young fellow, I'd really like to know more of his life story."  No, the people walking into the theater to watch this movie want to see Channing and his friends take their clothes off.  That's lust.

  

"Jesus made it clear that when we give in to lust, it is akin to the act itself. It makes no difference whether you know the person or not; lust is not tied to relationship." - Pastor James White 

Pastor Jim also says "Sin of any kind desensitizes your spiritual life. Continued exposure to a sin such as pornography is like shooting novocaine into your soul. It deadens you and grieves the Holy Spirit in your life, forcing Him to withdraw His utmost filling in a way that diminishes His power and presence in your life"  (you can read the whole post at Church and Culture)

I am a sinner, that's no secret.  I mess up daily.  But I try tremendously hard to not willingly and knowingly deaden my soul and separate myself from the Holy Spirit.

Craig Groeschel, in his book Soul Detox puts it like this "As we become scarred and desensitized to what is right and wrong, good and evil, life-giving and life-draining, we lose sight of our first love. We move away from God one degree at a time."

I can't stop you from going to see this movie, but I do hope that before you buy your tickets, you'll ask yourself, "Is this right or wrong, good or evil, is this life-giving or life-draining?" 

Groeschel also says "Do you think that what we consider laughable, entertaining, or simply fun, God might find heartbreaking?"

Hmmm....

I know some of you are saying, really? You're overreacting, it's a harmless movie and all my friends want to go see it, I don't want to get left out.

And this is what I'd say to you, if you were sitting on my couch right now, "Become wise by walking with the wise; hang out with fools and watch your life fall to pieces."  Ok, those aren't my words.  That's Proverbs 13:20.  

I've watched my life fall to pieces before.  Not really keen on repeating that.

One of my dear friends, a woman who I admire with everything I have, recently wrote a blog post similar to the point I'm trying to make here, but in reference to the book Fifty Shades of Grey.  Brittney says "we completely miss the evil that is sneaking into our souls from more subtle influences. Putting poison like this into our minds, things you know aren't at all pleasing to God, will most assuredly start to take your life."

See why I admire her so much?

And she's right. 

Magic Mike, being rated R, shown publicly in a theater setting is sneaking into many souls this weekend. Poisoning minds. Taking lives.

How about "Rather than sinking into the quicksand of sin, you swim into the clean water of God's forgiveness and cleansing love." - Groeschel

That's a movie I'd pay to see.

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Rejoice in your reality

photo courtesy of rippedusa.com

Maybe it's just me. But there are days, truth be told, most all days, when I look in the mirror and see nothing but flab and gray hair (yes, me, before the age of 30, shocking I'm aware) and how my clothes fit in all the wrong ways.  I go through the list of things I WILL change.  I will eat less and workout more and scrape together the pennies it takes to consistently dye my hair.  Usually that list runs through my head while I eat my pop tart and scarf down my coffee while running out the door because I couldn't even wake up early enough to get out of the house on time, much less have time for exercise.  But if I'm literally running out the door, that counts for something right?

I grew up with a mother who was always trying to lose 5lbs and aunts, cousins and uncles who are exercise and health food feigns. The kind of people that, not intentionally, definitely not on purpose, make you feel worse about yourself and all the things you're NOT doing to "keep up."  I love my family, they are fantastic people, but their lifestyles and constant focus on their image and material things leaves a certain someone feeling a little unworthy.   And I'm not against self improvement, I know health and fitness are very important, but it's the untruths that I allow myself to believe about myself that are the issue.

We all know being prideful is a sin.  A large portion of Proverbs addresses pride and how the foolish are prideful. It's where we get our saying "pride comes before the fall."  And we work hard to not have others see us as arrogant or egotistical.

We get that.

But, this is a big BUT...(not big butt)

Did you know that self deprecation, the exact thing I'm doing when I look in the mirror, tearing myself down, is also a form of pride????

Think about it.

I am too fat. I have bad hair. I need better clothes. I...I...I...

Anytime the focus is on I, (whether "I am the GREATEST thing since sliced bread" or "I am a COMPLETE FAILURE"), and not He, you're being prideful.

“Whoever humbles himself like a child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 18:3-4

A humble person doesn't feel shame or guilt.  A humble person has a clear view of reality.

Take for example an incredibly talented singer.  It's clear that this artist is good, but yet she always says that she's not. When complimented on her skill, she replies that she was terrible and really shouldn't be a musician at all.

That's not a clear view of reality. 

And it's also not giving credit where it's due.

Her response should be, "Thank you, my talent comes from God."

That's not prideful or arrogant, that's being humble. 

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 129:13-14

Every time I say to myself that I'm not good enough, I'm telling God straight to his face that what he has created, IN ME, is not good enough. That His work is not wonderful.

That's a scary road to travel.

If you're successful at your job, be thankful God gave you the knowledge to be good at it.
If you are analytical and practical, be happy God has privileged you with such a great skill.
If you are known for your ability to love and encourage, be grateful God gave you such a big heart.

We need to quit tearing ourselves down and rejoice in our reality.

Only then can we truly be humble.

Tomorrow I will look in the mirror and see a woman, molded and crafted and wonderfully made by her Creator, not her imperfections.

And so should you.

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Breath of Fresh Air

Ride a bike 34 miles. Seems daunting. Now add 3 flat tires and a busted tread. Suddenly it seems like a "no good flat out impossible was supposed to be fun for our 5 year anniversary now it isn't why the heck did we do this?!?!?" spectacle.

But in the moments of no flat tires and beautiful scenery and husband R leaving me in his dust, my mind wandered away, thinking about how I could turn this into a blog post.

Marriage is like biking.

Or, marriage is like biking with a flat tire.

Or, marriage is like biking with a flat tire, having to stop 3 times to change it, crying, yelling and somehow by the GRACE of God finishing alive.

But all that's been played out. You've certainly read that blog post before.

So what did I learn then? Surely God didn't bring such a biking adventure just for us to dust it off and move on. Right?

The first time R's tire exploded went flat, we pulled of the trail and opened our quote unquote survival kits the bike rental place gave us.  We had a bike pump, luckily, but a hand pump, which I'm pretty sure I could have been more successful if I had just put my mouth to the dang tire and blew.  So thankfully a family with a full size bike pump stopped to help.  They were nice, albeit a little annoyed at having to slow down their trip, but they did us a huge favor by allowing us to blow up the tire in about 1/100th of the time it would have taken us with our other dinky little pump.

The second time R's tire committed suicide went flat was no less than 30 seconds after we repaired it the first time.  While inspecting the damage and mumbling a few not so very nice words,  another couple stopped to help. They knew terms about bike tires that sounded like a different language.  When asked if something was connected to the something that kept the other something from losing air I replied with "yes, but why don't you take a look just in case."  I mean who takes on biking 34 miles without knowing about the something being connected to the something?  Not us, definitely not us.  This couple was so incredibly helpful and generous.  They diagnosed the problem, patched the tire from the inside out, with their personal stash of tire patches, put air in the tire, and then wished us luck on our 14 miles to the half way point. We would absolutely have not been able to continue our trip had it not been for them.

Both families were nice, both stopped to help. So now, I could tell you the Good Samaritan story.  Rob and I definitely got passed by plenty of times with only a few stopping to help. But I'm sure you've heard that one too.

This goes deeper than that.

Most of us want to do the right thing.

But why?

Are you like the first family who stopped to help us? They knew it was the right thing to do so they did it.  But they certainly didn't hide the fact that they were inconvenienced. Yeah, ok, here's a pump, glad we could help, see ya.

Or are you like the second couple?  They too knew it was right to stop and help us.  But they went further.  They weren't going to just help, they were going to stay with us and work at fixing the problem until they knew we could make the rest of the trip.  They sacrificed they're own security (extra tire patches) to save us.  We may not have mattered to anyone else busily rushing down the trail, but we mattered to them.

Selfless.

Do you do the right thing out of obligation?  Or do you do the right thing because it actually matters to you?

This realization definitely convicted me.  I write encouraging emails and send cards and give toddling A high fives and help friends with dog sitting and pat husband R on the back and hand out money to the needy when I can.  Okay, great, good job, what, you want a cookie?   Am I doing these things because I'm simply avoiding my conscience keeping me awake at night or because I'm trying to live in light of eternity?

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

We're his handiwork, he has prepared good things for us to do.  Let's recognize those good things, and do them not for the person in need, but for Christ Jesus.
I want to live like that.

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It's between you and God.

       People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.  Forgive them anyway.

 

            If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.  Be kind anyway.

            If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.

           If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.  Be honest and sincere anyway.

            What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.  Create anyway.

            If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.  Be happy anyway.

            The good you do today, will often be forgotten.  Do good anyway.

         Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.  Give your best anyway.

         In the final analysis, it is between you and God.  It was never between you and them anyway.

**composition originally by Kent Keith, above quoted directly from www.momastery.com**

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Today, I just don't want to.

Ever had those days or weeks where things are just fuzzy, flat out pea soup fog?  One thing runs into another and your not sure how you even peeled open your eyelids this morning, which feel like 9 days ago?  Things are so off today I even took a pregnancy test, yes, even though I'm pretty sure that's impossible, but having ruled everything else out, it's the last standing explanation I could drum up to explain my odd sense of well of I don't know what.  And no, that's not the reason.  At least there's one thing I can be sure about.

I don't want to work. I don't want to parent. I don't want to cook. I don't want to budget. I don't want to pretend like I have a grip on things. I don't want to even really write this blog.  I just don't want to.

So what is it?  Really, I'm asking you.  This isn't rhetorical.

I've prayed. I've prayed a lot.

And then I read other blogs about horrible things that have happened to people and I think, "get over it, get over yourself."  But then I get mad.  Just because I haven't had life changing events take place doesn't mean I can't feel jumbled up. Bumbled up.  Whatever.

I resort to my inspirational pod-casts and read things that make me laugh.  I open my Bible (which I'm on a read the bible chronologically in a year plan) and of course today's reading happens to be in Exodus on laws about slaves and oxen and restitution.  While I know all of God's word is important, that didn't clear the haze, not one bit.

You know what, and I'm thinking out loud here, it's okay I feel like this.  God's grace is sufficient.  And I can feel "off" for a bit if I need to.  He understands. Today I just don't want to, tomorrow maybe I will.

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To preschool or not to preschool

Breakfast time, toddling A happily sitting in her high chair eating her yogurt, mom has to use the bathroom, mom walks into the bathroom (15 ft away) shuts the door.  Toddling A goes from happy to hysterical in less time than it takes for mom to unbutton her pants.  MOMMY!!!  MOMMY!!!  MOMMY!!!!  Alligator tears.

If you have or have ever had a child who suffers from separation anxiety (my self diagnosis), you've experienced that scene and others like it, many many times.

Where have I gone wrong?  Why is my child like this?  What am I supposed to do to make it better?

I've asked myself these questions over and over, and sought advice and expertise from mother after mother.

The one reoccurring proposed solution that keeps popping up, even from dear dad, is "put her in preschool, give yourself and her some time apart, she'll learn not to be so attached."

Sounds simple enough, right?

Wrong.  Not simple. Because then I start asking myself,

What if preschool makes it worse?  What if she learns bad behaviors from other children?  What's the point of me being a "stay at home mom" if my daughter is in preschool?

To preschool or not to preschool, that is my question.

And for now, I've found my answer.  Now let me tell you, I have nothing against preschool and nothing against mother's who put their children in preschool.  Each family and child are different and different things work for different people.  You do what is best for you.  I'll do what is best for me.  Like a strong woman of faith told me last night "Everyone else thinks they are the expert on your child."

So, I've decided, after much consideration, prayer and consulting women I trust,

Not to preschool (GASP)

And this is why:

1. Toddling A is not even 2, is it really a bad thing if she wants to be with mom all the time?
2. I can teach toddling A way more than any preschool teacher, honest I can. Just a few days ago we played outside in the rain and splashed in muddles and learned about rivers and where the water goes and who made the rain. 
3. She's going to spend 13+ years in a school setting, do I really need to add more, I mean that's such a long time.
4. Putting her in preschool just to "fix" her separation anxiety is not enough of a reason for me.

And here's the kicker, something I heard quoted by my pastor's wife last night, that she heard from Craig Groeschel (another pastor), and I'm paraphrasing.

"The world (culture/society) defines a successful adult as happy, well rounded and well educated.  But we (as christians) are called to unleash single minded, Christ centered, biblically anchored world changers."

Show me a preschool that can unleash that kind of adult in toddling A and we'll be enrolled tomorrow.

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Money, money money

Money. It's such a powerful thing. Money makes us happy.  Money makes us mad.  Money makes life easier.  Money makes life harder. Money secures us. Money scares us.

As a nanny, I'm often given money to do activities with the kids.  I would never pocket that money or use it towards my own personal gain.  No, it's not my money, I've been instructed to use it in a certain way. 

In the same way, the money in your bank account right now, it's not yours.  The money you have invested, it's not yours either.  The twenty dollar bill I have in my wallet, not mine.


It all belongs to God.

We are just stewards, of HIS money.

As children of God, we're given money and instructed to use it in a certain way.  And when we use it in the way God asks, it comes back to us, really. 

So what if there was something you could do to stop focusing on or worrying about money?  Would you do it?

Proverbs 3:9 Honor God with everything you own; give him the first and the best.

Luke 6:38  Give, and it will be given to you. A good amount will be poured into your lap. It will be pressed down, shaken together, and running over. The same amount you give will be measured out to you."

2 Corinthians 9:7 You should each give what you have decided in your heart to give. You shouldn't give if you don't want to. You shouldn't give because you are forced to. God loves a cheerful giver.


The answer?

GIVE and GIVE cheerfully.

Everyone will have different ways of giving, and different amount of giving.  I can't tell you how to give or tell you where to give.  That's between you and God.  But I can tell you about my experiences.

In 2008, our family decided to start giving and following God's principles in that way. We give 10% of all our income to our church.  We trust our church to use the money we give to glorify God. We believe in the work they are doing. So we give. And we like it.

But you want to know what's cool.

As much as we give, we can't out give God.

He ALWAYS gives it back to us, and more.

I have so many cool personal stories about how I didn't know where the next dollar for groceries was going to come from, or how that bill was going to get paid, or how I was going to put gas in my car and yet I've never ever gone without. I've never had a late bill, I've never gone hungry, I've never been stranded on the side of the road without gas. Literally I've had checks unexpectedly show up in the mail.  Just this week I got a dollar an hour raise and I've only been working here 1 month.

God always provides.  And I'm confident it's because we give back to him what's already his anyways.

God even tells us it's okay to test him with this, to see if its true.

Micah 3:10 says "Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it."

So you want to stop worrying about money?

Give. Even if you think you can't.  Give God back his money. 

And watch what he does.

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I'm running to your arms

photo courtesy of amazon.com

The author of this book (Sandra Boynton) may not be sure what it is, but I know what it is.

It's me.

Today.

After a week with Rob out of town and a poop ton of volunteering and a 30 hr child filled work week (yes, that's a lot for a supposed stay at home mom)

Frazzled.

Then, unexpectedly, without notice, I de-frazzled.

Phillipians 4:7 says "Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down."  (The Message)

So after work and an hours worth of grocery shopping, toddling A and I went to dinner with Dad..  We had to drive separate cars and meet at the restaurant though because...well because, that's our life.  But when dinner was finished and we were leaving, I asked my oh so loving husband if he would drive Avery home and let me take his car.  He obliged, because he loves me that much.

And that's when it happened.



The windows down, the radio on, traffic cruising at just the right speed, and a sense of God's wholeness blowing through the car, my entire body, coming to settle me down. Out of just a 30 min drive home. I didn't want it to end.

Read this, or you can listen to it here if you want:

"You are more
Than my words will ever say
You are Lord
All creation will proclaim
You are here
In Your presence I'm made whole
You are God
Of all else I'm letting go"

In your presence I'm made whole.  Really.  WHOLE.  Not,  a piece of me is mom, a piece of me is wife, a piece of me is nanny, a piece of me is trying to plan a yard sale, a piece of me is volunteer, a piece of me is captain of my softball team. 

In your presence I'm WHOLE. 

Not pieces.

I don't know about you, but I need to be made whole. And all we have to do is let God know.  Tell him our concerns.  Ask him to forgive us, admit we're reckless and burnt out.

And know that He is God.

And then let go.

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Practice what He preaches

"Share your toys, we keep our hands to ourselves, we do not stick things in our diaper, we love our friends, do that one more time and you'll be sorry."

This is my daily mantra.  Really, I'm like a recorder on repeat.  Well, maybe not the sticking things in your diaper comment, that, thankfully only happens every now and again.   Those words though, come with the territory of being a mother and a nanny.  Or even just a parent for that matter.  We tell our kids to share, we tell them to be nice to their friends, we tell them to forgive, we teach them that if  they hurt someone to say sorry, and if someone hurts them, to show grace.

After spending a week with my niece (7) and nephew (4), I realized just how much we drill these things into our children.  But at some point in our growing up, it suddenly becomes okay to only share in certain circumstances, to only say sorry if it makes you feel better, to only forgive when the offense is small.  When in our upbringing does the old "Do unto others" saying (aka Matthew 7:12)stop ringing true?  The Message translates it best, ""Here is a simple, rule-of-thumb guide for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you, then grab the initiative and do it for them..."

A simple rule. A guide for behavior.

Last time that neighbor came over to borrow your best tools, did you share, or just give them the old crusty ones you have lying around?  When your friend showed up late or cancelled your last date, were you nice about it?   When that old man cut you off in traffic just to drive 5 mph below the speed limit, did you show him grace?  What about that family member who so deeply offended and hurt you, did you forgive and turn the other cheek?

When's the last time you said you were sorry?

Toddling A told me she was sorry this afternoon.  I can't remember the last time I said it, except for maybe that "casual I don't really know or mean what I'm saying sorry" when you bump someone in the grocery store with your cart.  Yeah, not what I'm referring to.

Toddling A, without a second thought, forgave me today after I yelled at her out of frustration.  And I struggle to forgive when someone I don't even know is rude to me. 


Forgiveness isn't about admitting that what the other person did was right, forgiveness sets YOU free.

Forgiveness lets you get on with your day, on with your life.

Whether you believe in God or not, we can't deny that all these are behaviors and actions we want our children to model. Nobody says to their child, "hey be mean to that kid and don't share anything with him."  No, we want our children to be upstanding, well accepted children.

But the truth is, sharing and being nice and showing grace and extending unconditional forgiveness, those are all characteristics of Jesus.

Yep, that guy, the one who made us in his image.  The one who commands us to follow in his footsteps.

So my question is, how can we ask and expect such things of our children if we can't, ourselves, do the things Jesus expects and asks of us?

Let's start living up to His expectations and just maybe our children will follow.

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50,000 Feet

I run but I've never considered myself a runner, until two weekends ago, and even then, not the kind of runner you would think.

Every organized race I've run tells you not to run with your ipod, they say for safety reasons.  Especially in a race as big as the Cooper River Bridge run, with thousands of people pushing around, over and through you as they run.   But alas, all but those who actually win (ahem, the kenyans, ahem) run with music blasting through their skulls.  Let's face it, running is mental and if you can force every thought of pain, thirst and hunger out, and replace it with "R-E-S-P-E-C-T find out what it means to me!" you might just stand a chance at crossing the finish line, in one piece mind you. Really, there have been some days I decide not to run because my ipod is dead. No judging allowed.

But as I was running the lovely 4% incline for 1.5 mile trek up and over the bridge, I decided to take my headphones out. And when I expected to hear silence, or at least my own huffing and puff puff puffing, what I heard was DEAFENING.  Close to 50,000 feet, or pairs of feet, hitting concrete.  I've never heard anything like it.  You can't hear anything else, period. Just pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat...forever.

And then I got this thought. Like a charlie horse to the brain.


I trained for months to run this race. I spent over $300 to make the weekend possible. I woke up at 4:45AM to make sure we arrived to the starting line on time.  I stretched, I prepared, I studied, I made it a priority.  All for a race that took me

just ONE hour

to complete.

50,000 other people did the same.

Think about that. 50,000 people doing the exact same thing, at the exact same time.  For what?  Personal accomplishment, health and fitness, to prove to their friends they could???

Then I heard the feet again.

Will it sound like this when Jesus returns?  

What if this many people put forth the same amount of passion and energy into seeking Jesus as they did into this race?  What if 50,000 people made HIM a priority?  What if they were all wanting to persevere to the only finish line that matters?

I know the Bible lays out a very graphic picture of what the end times will be like, what we will hear and what we will see, and no the sound of running feet isn't one of them, but at that moment, as I listened to thousands upon thousands of people run, I couldn't help but think, or HOPE that running feet is what we'll hear.

I got a glimpse of that on Easter Sunday.  And while we may not have had 50k people attend, there were definitely thousands that showed up to hear the truth about Jesus' resurrection.  I'd say that's a start, leading to a promising finish.

I consider myself a runner, do you?

Look past our family photo, at all the people, and this was an hour before the service began!

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