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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