Monthly Archives: October 2012

Define normal

A few days ago, I went on my weekly excursion to the store as I plug away at my post-op recovery.  Not having full independence to go where and when and for how long I want to is really getting under my skin, but the perks is that it has saved me gas and money.

I zipped around in slow-motion in the electric scooter in Target and eventually, after meandering through the aisles stretching time before returning home, like Cinderella the clock struck and I needed to go before my ride turned into a pumpkin.

At checkout, a nice guy who collects the shopping carts in the parking lot approached me.  I’ve seen him there for years, and always knew there was something a little different about him, but couldn’t put my finger on it.  He walked over to me and said, Ma’am, if you would like to drive the scooter out the parking lot, you can just leave it there and I will bring it back in for you.

Wow!  That was nice!  I gratefully replied, Thanks!  I’ll do that.  I was just wondering how I was going to get these bags to the car.

He said something, but I couldn’t understand his words.  I kindly asked him to repeat himself.  His response surprised me…

I’m not normal.  I have Asperser’s and it makes me talk like this.  It’s why you can’t understand me.  He continued, You’re normal, Ma’am, but I’m not.

Immediately, my heart felt for him.  He was so matter-of-fact in telling me how un-normal he is right in the middle of a busy checkout for all the clerks and shoppers to hear.  Hmm.  Makes me wonder how many times he may have been told he was not normal to have been so forthright.

I casually replied with a smile, Well, what’s normal anyway? as I looked down at my surgical boot.  I think normal is relative.

He laughed.  Not just a congenial pleasantry.  He laughed a genuine, broad-smiled laugh.  I chuckled with him.

The moment we shared spoke volumes.  Disability or handicap, we’re just trying to do the best we can with what we’ve got.  I hope this moment reminded him that what we look like, or what we can or cannot do, doesn’t define us.  Our character, morals and beliefs define us…and those are not bound by physical limits.

His kindness toward me with the scooter was more gentleman-like than the other people in the stores these past weeks who have cut me off with their carts, darted in front of me – snickering an apology as they went (because they were going to get to the next aisle 3 seconds faster than me) or those that purposefully ignored me when I tried to pass them in crowded aisles with their carts, making me say, Excuse me please, several times – offering no eye contact on their part.

No doubt I’ll take this nice guy’s attitude toward me any day over theirs.  To me, his character is the kind of normal the world needs more of.

Unfiltered

I woke up this morning with such an overwhelming sense of urgency.  In addition to getting the kids to school time, I wanted to know how my husband is doing after sustaining injuries from a 20 foot fall yesterday.

I also desperately wanted to know:

* what our country looked like after Sandy invaded a third of it through the night

* that all of our family in Sandy’s path, spanning 3 states, is okay

* updates on the election season

* how my friends are whose freshman son died over the weekend

* how my foot surgeon is doing after having an emergency quadrupedal bypass only 2 weeks after my surgery!!

* how my young hairdresser is doing after her mom died of a massive heart attack less than two weeks ago

* how my sweet step niece is fairing after having twins just weeks ago and then developed blood clots in her lungs and legs

* how is my ever-recovering foot doing today – any better at all?

However, before I turned on my pc, tuned in to my tv or checked my iPhone for texts, a giant pause sat on my soul.  I was anxious, nervous, a little fearful, and eager to get updates on so much happening.  But, this pause wouldn’t let me go.

I was absolutely drawn to spend time with God first.  Just let me check this or tend to that, please? I asked Him.  Not yet, He replied.  I ought to know better, but sometimes life throws so many curve balls I feel like I’m ducking and weaving just to not get hit.  I wanted to get updates regarding so many extraordinary things, but God reminded me that I need His filter through which to perceive them.

I need His eyes to see, ears to hear, and His heart to comprehend the magnitude of such unbelievable events.  Without His wisdom and discernment, dare I make decisions based on my finite knowledge.  With His love and mercy I can open up my heart and allow compassion to flow to whoever needs it.  Through His perspective, everything everything looks different.

Spending time with God first thing in the morning – before electronics even – prepares us for the day ahead.  After all, we don’t know what the next 24 hours holds, but we know the One who does.

On my own, I get overcome by emotions and circumstances.  With God, I realize all over again that He sustains this world we share.

Putting on the armor of God, Ephesians 6:10-19, allows me to gear up spiritually for whatever may come my way.  Without it, I am unarmored.  Spiritually naked.  Vulnerable.  I am left to battle life in my own strength.  Living unfiltered is dangerous for believers.  It causes raw data to flood our minds and hearts without God’s vision in which to  frame it. We are unprepared to live the life of victory Jesus called us to in John 10:10 when the under toe of life tries to sweep us away.  With it, Philippians 4:13 it my battle cry, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!

So why is it soooo hard to stop and spend time with God?  Why does my flesh and spirit wrestle against each other in this?  When I am trigger-happy with the pc or iPhone, it boils down to control.  I want to know something so I can choose how to react.  But God’s way is, Spend time with Me first, then you will know how to respond.

What does this world look like through our eyes?  What does it look like through God’s eyes?  Two very different views.  One is holy, perfect and timeless.  The other’s is sinful, skewed and lasts a mere breath.

As much as I wanted to go to news reporters, email, voicemail, texts and articles, God drew me to Himself first.  I’m so glad He did.  Like running a race dehydrated, our spirits need a daily infusion of God.  We need His Holy Spirit to filter everything we are about to see, hear and experience.  It’s for our own protection and for His glory.

With news rapidly changing, both personal and national, God’s filter is the best way to handle it all.  It may not answer all of our questions about why things happen, but it gives us faith and hope that one day we will know and understand – and grants us sustainable peace in the meantime.

Peace to you today,

Kristi

Seasonal fun!

While gathering supplies to “BOO” our neighbors, I searched online for a printable poem to use.  Our family views Halloween as a community outreach – a time to connect and reconnect with neighbors – without the gore, spirituality, or darkness that accompanies this holiday.

I couldn’t find any poem that DIDN’T mention ghosts, ghouls  goblins, witches or spells.  Sooo, I wrote a quick one myself.  Thought I’d post it here in case you are looking for a similar poem.  Happy Fall! ~ Kristi

Autumn is crisp and leaves keep falling

When you didn’t see, we came calling.

In this season of tricks or treats

We’ve left you tasty sweets to eat.

Ding dong…knock, knock, knock,

You’ve been BOOed so start the clock.

Pick two neighbors you can boo

It’s such an easy thing to do.

Remember as the temperatures fall,

Your neighbors think the world of ya’ll!

Yours truly,

Secret Boo

Also, I found great printable pages that are creative and fun to print and use for BOOing.  A great time saver!  Great job, Heather! Click here

And here is another creative sight for printing treat bag tags – click here!

New Shoes

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 4:6-7

This morning was a milestone for my recovery…I got to take a shower without having my foot being wrapped up and kept dry.  Yeah!  That may seem like a trivial thing, but I’ve waited 2 weeks for water to flow over, and soap to clean, my surgical foot.

However, afterwards I noticed something alarming.  It appears part of my stitches came open.  I won’t gross anyone out with more medical talk, but suffice it to say it led to texting my doctor for instructions.

Talk about deflating!  I went from riding a high one minute, to being consumed with worry the next.  Am I at risk for infection?  Sepsis?  Something I don’t know about?

I’ll admit that fear gripped my mind and soul, partly because I want to be thoroughly healed up, and partly because I’ve only allocated a certain amount of time for this surgical hiccup to interrupt our lives (like I have total control over it).

As I began my prayer time today, I said, God, I’m worried.  I’m worried about my foot.  This is all I’ve got to bring You today.

I continued by praying on the armor of God like I do every day (Ephesians 6:10-18).  When I reached the part of my prayer…I fit my feet with the readiness that comes from the Gospel of peace to go where, when and for how long You say…God interrupted me.

What did you just tell me, Kristi?

I told you I’m bringing you worry.

What did you just pray?

To fit my feet with my feet with peace.

That was my ah-ha moment!  How beautifully and creatively God works in our lives.  The same part of my body that I feel bound to with fear and worry, is the same part of the armor of God that is fitted for peace.

I understand that the peace Paul talked about was in regards to following God’s will, commands, and voice in life so closely that above our doubt, fears and our own agendas we can trust Him no matter where He leads us.

However, it was amazingly intertwined with how I am feeling, particularly about my foot, today.

In my prayer, I asked God to continue to heal my foot from the inside out.  It wasn’t until today I got a close look at the ramifications of surgery.  It’s taken a beating and I’ll leave it at that.

When I spoke of healing from the inside out, I know the benefit to waiting weeks and weeks for a solid, lasting recovery.  If everything looked great on the outside, but wasn’t healed properly on the inside, there would be future problems for sure.  Problems I can’t see from the outside, but would certainly feel on the inside.  The recovery process would be lengthened indefinitely.

God reminded me that this is the same with our hearts and lives.  He heals from the inside out.  Just as I sat down with my pc today, before any programs were even opened, my mother-in-law popped up on Ovoo.  Wow!  I didn’t expect that.  Neither did she.  She said her pc did the same thing.  We laughed that it was meant for us to chat.

She said, You look wonderful!

Thanks.  A shower always helps.

On the outside I am clean, dressed and accessorized.  On the inside, I am churning with worry about my foot.  This moment was a great reminder to me that God indeed heals from the inside out, and no matter how hard we try to put our best foot forward to the world, God sees what’s going on inside, and that is where He begins His work.

Is His work completed overnight?  Rarely.  So we wait.  We try to live the P word – patience.  Ug.  I have to keep coming back to a place where I am pliable in the Potter’s hands.  I have to remind myself to stop fighting against His healing hand.

My doctor says that some of his patients come in after the same foot surgery and their toe is frozen stiff because they didn’t  do their exercises at home.  I am determined to not be one of those patients, because I’ve learned from past experience that physical therapy hurts that much more when we don’t obey our instructions.

There is a time for us to surrender our souls and let God operate.  There is also a time that we are to sit still and simply recover.  There is still a time for us to do our exercises, so scar tissue won’t build up in our hearts – rendering them stiff, hardened and unmovable.

As believers, we have free will.  It is our choice to believe that God is working for our good (Romans 8:28), even in the tough times.  We have the choice to be patient and wait out the work He is completing in us from the inside out.  Waiting through the moments when no change is visible from the outside, rather small, subtle, lasting changes are weaving our broken hearts together again to make a new, stronger person both inside and out.

Oh, and about the timeline, I don’t know if you’ve ever given God a time frame in which to work, but I have.  Truly, this is preposterous because we simply cannot see the bigger picture of life.  When God looks at our lives, time constraints are of no matter from His side of heaven.  He sees it all – beginning to end – all at once and knows how the story ends.

We see merely snapshots of time.  Moments and blips on the radar.  I thought by now I had this one down pat.  That it is all about His timing, not mine, until I remind myself and God of plans we’ve made as a family once I am recovered – with little to no margin for extra time to recover.

Even my doctor cannot exactly tell me the day and time my foot will be 100% well.  God is the only one who knows all, and for that He has all my trust.

If you are like me, working on some inner and outer healing, take heart that God sees.  He knows.  He cares.  You and I are important to Him.  We matter.  Psalm 121 is a beautiful reminder that He is always present and working in our lives.

Psalm 121 – A song of ascents

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
    where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

3 He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

7 The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
8 the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.

Our job is to let Him work.  Sometimes that means surrendering the issue to Him.  Sometimes that means waiting in what feels like nothingness when He is working deep in our souls.  Sometimes it means doing our part of the healing, our home exercises if you will, including forgiving others and ourselves, trusting God in a new way, picking up our cross to follow Him, praying for the issue at hand, releasing the issue, moving as the Spirit prompts us to go, stop, wait, run, walk, make that phone call, write that letter, pack up or settle down.

Healing is miraculous in the long run, but can feel unbearable in the process.  Our faith is that we, as believers, never live a minute of it alone.  Jesus bore all of our illnesses and injuries on the cross.  It’s by His stripes we are healed (perhaps in ways we didn’t expect), and it is in Him that we have joy in the meantime.

Today, I am trading in my shoes of worry and angst, and fitting my feet with new shoes of peace.  One thing I know for sure, these shoes of peace are a lot more comfortable to wear.

<<Check out the companion song to this post on my Tunes page! >>

Ready or not, here I come!

I took a “fieldtrip” to Target today.  Just to get out of the house was so nice!  Bruce and I had just a little time to complete our short list.  All the while, I’m scooting around in their complimentary electronic shopping carts/chairs.  These are nifty!

Hopefully no one judges my car driving by my scooter driving.  I can’t seem to master u-turns and sharp corners in these things.  I got myself quite tangled up in the clothing department when my back wheel caught a rack of clothes and I began to drag the entire rack behind me.

At one point, I drug my boot leg out of the scooter and tried to physically get the scooter turned around right, but evidentially those suckers don’t move unless in gear.  I was trapped in a solo game of bumper cars, and all that ran through my mind was You break it – you bought it!

Bruce thought my folly was hilarious.  Thanks, Honey.

When I put it in reverse, it was heard all over the store.  Seriously, it sounded like an 18-wheeler had pulled into the pain reliever aisle.  At one point, I turned my head around and saw Bruce videoing me on his phone – Facebook Baby!

I think not.

Purchases in hand, we headed to checkout.  Very short on time, I quickly scanned for the shortest line.  I saw a potential checkout lane and zoomed (literally) toward it.  I think these scooters have a secret turbo boost.  Suddenly, a new, stealth like checkout opened up!  Hurrah!

I looked up at the cashier and asked if she was open.  Yes!  I made a sharp turn to the left, then right, and I made it.

Bruce said, Man, you just cut off the lady behind you!

No…I didn’t. * awkward pause * Is there really someone behind me (too embarrassed to look)?

Yep.  And you just cut her off big time.

Oops!  I didn’t mean to!  (The rule-follower in me wagged her finger at me in shame.)

I think it’s awesome! he replied.  I’m proud of you!

He’s such a goofball.  No, we don’t make a habit out of cutting people off in line at checkout.  I just think my man didn’t believe I had it in me (whether I meant to do it or not).

I’m such a rebel.

Legacy of a Letter

For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt. Fear the Lord your God and serve him. ~ Deuteronomy 10:17-20

I received a letter in the mail a couple of months ago.  A letter that hasn’t left my mind ever since its words lifted from the page and inscribed themselves on my heart.  We have a sponsored daughter through Compassion International.  The letter we received from them announced her impending graduation from the program.

I knew this day would come, but I didn’t want to think about it.  For her, this is incredible news!  This means she made it! She has survived severely impoverished, third-world conditions and is now skilled in a job that will serve her for the rest of her life.

For me, however, it means letting her go.  As I’ve written before, I have a hard time with change, and this year has seen a lot of it.  My father died nine months ago.  Our senior pastor, who is my mentor and friend and someone I highly admire and respect, retired after twenty-one years of faithful service to our congregation.  My husband’s aunt died suddenly, and her memorial service marked a new chapter in our family’s history.  I closed a three-year chapter of homeschooling two of our children, and find myself missing my lunch buddies, their jokes, camaraderie and company in my days now.  We finally sold my husband’s car – a 1997 Honda Odyssey.  It was good to us, crossing 300,000 miles on the odometer, but it was time to acquire something that meets our current needs.  Our eBay car purchase served us well for six years. Silly, I know.  It’s just a car – especially for people who don’t place an unhealthy value on “things.”  But, it was familiar.

Perhaps that’s what’s hard about change for me…losing the familiar.

Compassion’s letter to our family was a request to write our Compassion daughter one…last…time. Ug.  My heart sank.  I kept that request on my desk for four months.  I simply couldn’t bring myself to write it.  This is the last communication I will have with her this side of heaven.  What do I say?

Compassion suggested we write words of wisdom, encouragement and Scripture.  These are the last words our beautiful daughter will carry from us for the rest of her life.  No pressure.  She who can’t ever stop talking sat speechless at my computer with our daughter’s picture smiling at me while the curser impatiently blinked on the blank page.

Dear God, I don’t know what to say.  Where do I begin?  How do I end?  Please help me give her the words You want her to hear.

As I began the letter, my mind flashed back over the 14 years she has been with us.  I remember the night we found her.  My husband and I were at a Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant Christmas concert in 1998.  During intermission, we strolled through the arena, curious as to what this Compassion thing that Amy Grant spoke of on stage was all about.  We came to a table and spread out on it were many children’s profiles.  My eyes scanned their sweet faces; many of them revealing a deep hopelessness in their expressions and thin bodies clothed in rags.

My eyes wandered to a beautiful girl.  Seven years old.  Across the sea from us in a land filled with conflict – dangerous for any female.  I picked up her card and read her story.  Her mother dead, her father removed, she lives with her grandmother and brother.  My breath caught in my chest and eyes stung with salty tears.  This was my story – this side of the ocean.  Replace the brother with a sister and she is me.  Captivated, I held her card close to my chest and knew she was meant to be a part of our family.  I wanted to offer her a hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11) that God gave me in my darkest hours of trauma and loss as a child.

Through Compassion, we could pay for her medical needs, clothes, food and education.  Christian education.  If she couldn’t live with us, this was the next best thing.  We signed up immediately, knowing that we were committed to this for the long haul.

Over the years, we loved receiving her letters.  We learned about her culture and landscape, farming and weather seasons.  We learned about her life.  We prayed her through the dry seasons and rainy seasons.  We prayed every time her brother became ill and when she had trouble in math.  She wrote her favorite Scriptures to us and told us about her friends.

Each Christmas and birthday, we were given the opportunity to send her a monetary gift.  By American standards it wasn’t much at all, but it is reasonable for their economic geography.  Every time we sent a gift, she wrote us and enthusiastically told us what she bought with it.  It was always the same.  She bought: a new dress for herself, a goat for the family and sweets for her friends.

Her purchases sparked great conversation in our family throughout the years about giving and receiving, thankfulness and kindness.  The fact that she always shared her gifts with her family and friends touched our hearts in inexpressible ways.  She was thankful.  Can we say the same?

We told her about where we live, too.  We shared favorite school subjects, hobbies, pets and what we do in a regular day.  We shared our prayer requests with her, too.  Having a pen pal across the world was priceless to my children.

One day, when she was about 15 years old, she wrote and told us that a preacher was visiting their village to evangelize in their community.  She was asked to go along with him to preach the Gospel.  I will never forget how I felt reading her words.  Choking back happy tears, I said to myself, She’s got it.  She has her own faith and is now able to share it with others.  She’s going to be okay.

This news gave me so much joy and peace!  Despite her bleak circumstances, she accepted Christ as her Savior and knows there is an eternal home waiting for her.

When Compassion expanded its ministry to include online writing, versus handwriting, I was so excited!  Handwritten letters are always best, but not as practical as writing something online that could be sent immediately for translation.  I remember writing to her telling her this news of online writing.  I will never, ever forget her response.  I was excited that this would be quick and easy, no need to hunt for a stamp and was technologically up with the times.  Her response?

I thank our God that He has provided you a job so you can have the money to buy a computer to write me.

Talk about perspective!!!  Think about her response for a moment.  Deeply ponder it.  Without knowing it, she continually taught us so much about life, love, thankfulness, contentment and commitment.

When my husband lost his job in 2001, a week before 9/11 and in the middle of the .com crash (of which his job was directly affected), we had no idea how we were going to feed our babies 1, 3, and 5 years old.  We had no health insurance, no gas money, no savings.  We had nothing but our vehicles and our house – that we feared we could lose in a heartbeat.  We never once considered stopping our sponsorship of our Compassion daughter.  This is no kudos to us.  Through sponsoring her, we learned even more what commitment looked like and what trust in God felt like.  We could no more stop feeding and clothing her than we could our own children, because like our own children, if we didn’t meet her basic needs – who would?  We totally relied on God to provide for us, and for her, and He did.  She never knew any of this.  Her life is one of great struggle and hardship, and even in our most dire straight, we were still wealthy beyond measure simply because of the longitude and latitude in which we live.

In her last years with us, she wrote about graduating high school.  This was quite an accomplishment!  The letter came announcing she was accepted into nursing school.  Nursing school!  I remember jumping up and down and cheering with my children.

This meant, not only will she have a job she can be proud of, but she will be able to financially support herself and her family, AND it saves her from a dangerous and demoralizing future so many young women face trying to earn money to survive.  Wow!  Her future has never looked brighter.

She is truly a part of our family, and this final letter literally pained my heart to write.  How do I tell her words of wisdom as a mother, when my own mother never had a chance to speak them over me?  I feel like the blind leading the blind.  I don’t know where to go with this.

As I struggled with my letter, my heart brought to mind a very special book* by Susan Polis Schultz. This book has priceless value to me.  It is a book written by a mother to her daughter.  It is full of letters, encouragement, love and advice.  This is the last gift given to me by my mother.  She gave it to me on Valentine’s Day, 1987, three months before she died of breast cancer when I was sixteen.

She wrote on the inside cover that she had a hard time putting into her own words what she wanted me to know, so she used this book to say it for her.  In it, she starred, underlined – double underlined – words and phrases.  These are what matter most to me.  These are her words to me.  However, I have only read this book a few times in 26 years.

I am unable to express my hesitation in words.  It hurts to go back to the most painful time of my life.  It hurts to hear her speak to me through writing, because once I finish reading it, I am again left with an emptiness that she is no longer here.  The process of reading her words is emotionally draining, yet healing at the same time.  That’s the best I can do to explain my feelings.

While writing to my Compassion daughter, my mind drifted to this precious book and with my mom’s inspiration I began to write.  Space online is limited.  It took me three letters to get it all in.  Oh, I could have written more, but knew at some point, the end of the letter was inevitable – as hard as it was to admit.

I wrote how beautiful she is, and to never neglect herself as she cares for her patients.  To love deeply, laugh a lot, and stay close to God.  I quoted my favorite Scriptures and spoke blessings over her.  I gave her practical advice and (hopefully) words of wisdom.  I promised that, just as we have done for 14 years, we will continue to pray for her every day for the rest of our lives.

Wrapping up the third letter in the series, I told her:

I don’t like goodbyes.  I won’t say it to you.  Although we may never see each other on this earth, we are both Christians and will have eternity to spend with each other.  Life on this earth is very short.  So, instead of goodbye, I will say I’ll see you soon.  Whoever makes it to heaven first, wait for the other at the gate. 

I paused writing and broke down and cried.  I cried happy tears for all she has accomplished and overcome, and sad tears because the season of her life entwining with ours has come to a close.  However, Christians have a unique relationship.  We are brothers and sisters in Christ, because we are related by blood not of this world.  Christ’s sacrificial blood pumps through our spirit, and this bond is something no one can take away.  We are family indeed, and no amount of time or circumstance can separate us from one another – even if we are physically apart.

My children are still in my nest.  She is the first one to launch into the world and follow her dreams and the destiny that God has prepared for her.  I’m new at this launching thing.  I have no idea what to say.  I told her how much we love her and how incredibly proud we are of her.

It seemed that telling her how proud I am of her was a repetitive theme.  Perhaps it’s something I long to hear myself.  Both of my parents are gone and my biological father was only in my life for the past 8 short years.  Maybe I spoke to her some of the words I have been starving to hear.

Upon finishing her letter, my heart was nudged to pull my mom’s book off of the shelf.  I sat down and gazed at the simple artwork on the cover.  I gently turned the yellowed pages and read every word she marked for me.

I have felt a little lost with my writing lately.  Perhaps recovering from surgery has dimmed my creative juices, and I am physically more tired as I heal.  Ironically, my eyes fixed on one particular passage she underlined…

“Write your feelings down.  Create something based on your feelings, but do not keep them inside.”*

I soaked in her encouragement and let it penetrate my soul.  Her words were perfect timing for my life.

Through committing to child sponsorship, I thought we were rescuing a child and offering her opportunities to realize her dreams.  I hope we did just that, but I can tell you that this journey has rescued me and sparked hope for my dreams.  Even down to the last letter, when I was drawn to the words my mom left for me so many years ago for a time today when I really needed to hear her voice.

My mom left a legacy of a letter in the book she gave me.  We left a legacy to our Compassion daughter through the letters we wrote to her.  She left a legacy to us in her letters.  Her perseverance and hard work inspired us to continue with Compassion.

In her honor, we now have two more sponsored children each in a different part of the world.  They are young, sweet children who have their whole lives ahead of them.  I close my eyes and imagine the years of letters we will, Lord-willing, have to share with each other.  I look forward to expanding our family across the seas and investing spiritually, financially and emotionally into these two lives.  I smile with anticipation of all we will share.

It is easy to be discouraged from sponsoring a child because the financial commitment seems scary in this economy or we believe one person can’t make a lasting difference.  However, I know firsthand that our family can’t afford not to.  I am hopeful we made a difference in her life – but I am absolutely certain she made the world of difference in ours.  We are changed by her selflessness, love and tender spirit.  We are challenged by her resolve, strength, optimism and determination.  We will champion these same qualities in our new Compassion son and daughter.

If our paths do not cross in this lifetime and I reach heaven first, I will eagerly wait at the gate for my Compassion daughter.  I have a big hug I’ve been saving up a lifetime to give her.

Culinary Quest #15 – Savory Pasta Meat Sauce

I typically post recipes on Saturday’s, but there’s not much typical about life right now in our house.  Ha!  So here ya go on a Monday…

With temperatures cooling down, we’re heating things up in the kitchen!  There is little food I enjoy more than a simple dinner of pasta and sauce.  It’s like the ultimate comfort food.  We tackled marinara sauce in Culinary Quest #6 Pasta Marinara with Parmesan Panko Chicken, but sometimes a hearty, meaty sauce is just the thing for a cool evening’s dinner.

My entire life I only knew hamburger meat, or perhaps a mixture of hamburger and sausage, for a meat sauce.  However, hamburger (in my opinion) is bland and spongy and just blah.  This time, I broke out of my box and used mild Italian sausage – taking the risk that only using sausage may prove too dominant against the backdrop of the other flavors.

The risk was totally worth it!  Goodbye hamburger – hello sausage!  It has the perfect amount of fennel and other spices to make this sauce nicely robust.  But, there is a trick.  I ground the sausage so finely, it is perfectly blended in the sauce.  Rather than this being a pasta sauce with sausage chunks, the sauce is a smooth blend that can be used over noodles and in any recipe calling for sauce (lasagna, manicotti, stuffed shells, ravioli, etc.).

This is hands-down our family’s new favorite!  Bonus…when making this from scratch, you get to pick exactly which meat goes in your sauce – unlike jarred meat sauce.  I like knowing exactly what is in my food. 🙂  And, the whole house smells so good while simmering that everyone is chomping at the bit by dinnertime.  Double bonus!

I would have included a picture, but we ate it all! :O  The next time I make it, I will come back and post a photo.  Whoops!

Buona appetito!

Savory Pasta Meat Sauce (yields a full-sized slow cooker)

2 pounds mild Italian sausage

1c diced, fresh basil (measured after dicing) – Fresh is important!  I do not recommend dried basil for this sauce.

1/3c olive oil

2 tablespoons dried oregano

3/4c pureed onion (I use sweet onions)

28oz  crushed tomatoes

28oz tomato puree

28oz tomato sauce

2 cans tomato paste

14.5oz diced tomatoes; drained

6 cloves garlic

* Using a large skillet on the stove top, thoroughly cook the Italian sausage.  Remove from heat and let cool.

* Once cooled, place sausage in a food processor and blend until uniform.

* Puree onions in food processor until almost liquid – keeping a little texture to them.

* Add all remaining ingredients, plus sausage and onions, in a slow cooker and cook on low for 9 hours or high for 6 hours – stirring occasionally.

***TIP*** To make things easier when putting this together in the morning for dinner, cook the sausage and process it and the onions the night before.  Store them in a container in the fridge and in the morning just add all ingredients in the slow cooker and you’re done!

It’s All Good

I wrote the other day that I’ve had surgery recently.  Not to add insult to injury, but while my life has been temporarily upheveled, I decided to take care of some skin issues resulting from years of sun damage as a child because I figured I’d be home and out of public eye.  So in addition to my temporary disability, I now look horrible.  It’s one of those processes that gets worse before getting better.  I told the doctor, I’m just that vain enough to not want to go out in public until this is done.  Dignity is worth something, right?  It was the perfect plan to execute my makeover and no one would be the wiser.  I’d just show up in public one day with radiant skin and two legs that work just fine.  I’d make a subtle, yet grand, entrance like I’m some Hollywood star.  Ha!

On the morning after the skin procedure, my phone rang unexpectedly.  I must admit, with the surgery and life still blazing a trail at 100mph, I can’t keep everything straight.  Perhaps the anesthesia is still working its way out of me.  I don’t know.  I do know I’m fuzzy on details of the day.  When the phone rang, it was a precious mom from our Moms in Prayer group (I have only met these women once) saying she couldn’t find my house as she was en route for our prayer time.  I sat stunned.  I knew it was today, but in the midst of trying to get 3 kids out the door, 2 of them still finishing homework and one needing to be early to school, I just lost a grip on the day’s calendar.

I gave her directions to my home, knowing she was right around the corner, hung up and took a look around.  With Fall here, leaves are continually trekked into our house.  I usually vacuum several times a week to keep them out, but I can’t vacuum right now.  Opened birthday presents were on the fireplace, laundry was strewn about, and clutter was everywhere.

My family is trying hard to keep the ball rolling here, but with several unexpected things that seem to pop up every day, I know everyone is doing all they can. They are great helpers, but there is only 24 hours in a day – minus sleep.

I hobbled around the house in the few seconds I had to pick everything up.  There was just no way.  It was what it was.

Then there is me.  I’m a mess!  I really didn’t want anyone seeing me like this.  In fact, at the time the doorbell rang, I couldn’t remember if I had brushed my hair, much less had any make-up on.  Earlier, I chose an old, faded t-shirt to wear because of the high neckline to cover the skin procedure, and because of my surgical boot, I chose shorts that, although they are fairly new, the inside seam unraveled after the first wash, so there’s a big hole in my pants.  Not to mention my shoes.  One gigantic surgical boot and one brown sandal.  The doctor said I need to even out the height of the boot so my back doesn’t suffer from walking at two levels, so the only shoe that works is this old brown sandal (that in no way matched my shirts and shorts).

I met not one woman, but three ladies at the door and invited them in.  Welcome to my chaos! I said with a laugh.  I was SO embarrassed.

I’m not pretentious, nor do I feel I need to impress anyone.  But, at least let my house be clean when people come over.  At least let me have washed my face and put on decent clothes.

They were extremely gracious – even when one mom went into my kitchen and saw both sinks full of dirty dishes and some unknown sticky substance on the counter after the daily brigade of breakfasts and lunchboxes flew through like a tornado.

I just couldn’t get over being embarrassed.  Do I really care that much? I asked myself.  But, I never thought I did.  Why is this bothering me?  

Martha Stewart I am not.  We are a crazy house of 5 extroverts who use every square inch of its space.  Creative juices flow, and usually so does something my kids want to try to bake or a science experiment, or a string of our dog’s toys that makes it look like a preschooler lives here.

Mess.  This day, my house was a mess.  I was a mess. There was nothing I could do.

God met me in that moment and reminded me of something He told me a while back.  He said, This school year will be a year of healing for you.  But…it begins with brokenness.

He wasn’t kidding.  A broken foot it is.  At least, that all I thought He was talking about.

I didn’t realize that there may be other areas of my life that need to broken to be healed.  My foot needed to be broken so the problem could be fixed.  So does my heart.

God’s ways are different from mine, but His ways are right – every time.

This particular morning showed me that I want to be accepted and approved by people more than I should.  This was the first time these ladies were meeting at my home, to accommodate my surgery recovery, and it drove me nuts that I couldn’t create an atmosphere (or image) that everything is semi-perfect.

It’s not!  Life is not perfect!  The only bell and whistle I could do was light a cinnamon candle.  Whoopie.

I had to accept the fact that I look like a wreck, because physically I am one right now.  How humbling!

God brought me from a place of panic that they were on their way, to humility over what my house and myself looked like, to a place where I could see what was most important -prayer with other Christian moms for our kids and their schools.

To live like we are created in the image of God, we make choices to reflect Him in our words and deeds.  This requires a lot of dying to self.  Approval is an issue I’ve struggled with my whole life.  Every time God works with me on this, I feel His fingerprint on specific situations as a gentle reminder that He is not cruel or uncaring, aloof or oblivious.  He is acutely aware of our frailties and weaknesses, and He desires for each of us a life of victory.

Living in strength and victory means we are wise enough to discern a situation and respond (not react) to it according to what pleases God, not ourselves.  We can trust this process, because God promised He is working all thing good for His children.  It’s a precious circle of love.  When we break out of the circle and go our own way, we forfeit the blessing of having His workmanship revealed in our circumstance.

For me, I could barely concentrate on what we were praying about because of the state of my house and my body.  It really wasn’t pride, as much as it was me wanting these women’s approval that I am at least acceptable.

Truly, it’s only God’s acceptance that I need to crave.  When I have it from Him, I am full and satisfied.  Everything else is gravy.  When I fill my tank with people’s acceptance, I am constantly having to refill it because people, frankly, let each other down.  We don’t perform to each other’s expectations.  We love conditionally.  We forgive when we feel like it.  And we are selfish.  When we seek God’s favor first, He has freedom in our lives to set us up for success in other areas – like bringing good friends into our lives.  Friends who will come to us to pray, when we can’t go to them.

That morning was so uncomfortable for me.  But, the lesson I learned in it made me more pliable in the Potter’s hand.  A huge benefit to me was that I could scrap the embarrassment over my house and my body and welcome others into our home who have since brought us meals, and I’ve felt comfortable inviting them to sit and chat.  Even yesterday, a friend from church brought us dinner, and as we sat in the family room talking, 3 loads of laundry stared at us from the sofa just feet away.  Underwear and all!  I chose to embrace God’s acceptance of me and enjoy my visit with a dear friend who took the time to come see me.  I told her with a laugh, For a couple of weeks, this stuff really doesn’t matter.  It’ll get done eventually.

Also, I breached my own vow of solitude to attend my son’s football game yesterday.  I look like I have a plague, but who cares!  My son was playing football and my friends were going to be there.  Those two things were way more important to me.  Yes, I looked like a sports diva sitting in a chair with an overhead canopy AND an umbrella fastened to the chair to avoid all sun, and had another chair in front of me to prop my boot leg on.  I said to my friend, I wasn’t sure I was going to come, but I knew ya’ll would love me regardless of how I look.  She replied, Of course we do!  I wanted to show my son, the one who made the love note for me (in the photo above) and left it on my laptop as a surprise, that he was more important than my internal issues…because he is.

Today, between the endless, monotonous hours of icing and elevating my foot, I will shed more of my embarrassment as my family meets two of our favorite families for frozen yogurt to celebrate two birthdays between all of us. I love these families so much, and I know they love me back.  I can feel free to show up just like I am because they are family to us.  I wouldn’t miss the laughter, fun and memories we make every time we are together just so I can stay home and save face (literally!).  No way.  Life is too short.  People are too precious.  We have some very special girls who need to be sung Happy Birthday.  Memories are just waiting to be made. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.  I’ll even let myself be in the pictures…how about that!  This is largely in part to an incredible bog post I read recently by Allison Tate on the subject of having moms photographed despite ourselves. 🙂 Take a look! click here.

Yes.  This whole experience has taught me a lesson I didn’t know I needed to learn.  When we fully release ourselves to God, even the secret places, untapped possibilities await.  Whatever we’re holding onto, whatever holds us back, whatever holds us down, let’s release it.  Then, with open hands and an eager heart, we are prepared to receive the abundant blessings God wants to give us.  And that, friends, is healing for the body and soul.

Why I love the body of Christ – teamwork!

All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. ~ Acts 2:44-47

Recently, I had the wonderful opportunity to chaperon my middle schooler’s field trip. The entire purpose was to build teamwork among their grade.  This was genius!  I watched them complete tasks together that they would have never been able to do on their own.  Tasks like scaling a 10′ vertical wall and moving a 12′ pair of skis in tandem down a field and around a cone and back. They had to work together, blindfolded, to form a huge rope into a circle, and standing on a large tarp, turn it over without ever stepping off of it.  Amazing!

These kids worked together as a team to accomplish their goals.  Some of the tasks were accomplished, but others like “life raft” weren’t.  There were too many feet to stand on the small wooden deck all at once.  They celebrated their victories and talked through defeat.  Lightheartedly, I said at one point, Ya’ll are going to either be one big happy family when this is done – or you’re not going to be speaking to each other.

These team-building skills will serve them well for years to come in the work place, at home and in school.  What about at church?

The church-at-large can have a reputation for back-biting, kickin’ ya when you’re down, and may seem down right political at times.  Unfortunately, the church has earned these labels sometimes.

What the world sees is pretty much right.  We are just a group of people, no matter denomination, coming together to worship and serve one God through Jesus Christ.  That’s who we are – people.

Talking with a dad on the field trip today, we chatted about watching children in middle school trying to figure things out – who they are and how they fit into their world and all of the peaks and valleys that come with this process.  I replied, Regardless of what school they go to, kids are kids and things are going to be said.  Because no matter the setting, they are still kids.

As for the church, people are people.  We try to live like Christ, but often miss the mark.  I think sometimes we forget we are on the same team.  We are Christians.  In the new heaven and earth, labels of denomination will not be found.  Worship will be perfect – not contemporary, traditional or blended.  It will simply be perfect.  Heated debate over hot topics in the church will be old news.  There will be peace.  Contentment.  Unity.  Can you imagine it?

Should we have to wait for eternity to experience beautiful, Godlike unity?  I think not.  We live in a fallen, broken world and we are sinners saved by grace, but we can still aspire to the life Jesus called us to in His sermon on the mount affectionately called The Beatitudes in Matthew 5:3-12…

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

11 “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 12 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

More than John Lennon’s song, Imagine, or the famous poem, All I Ever Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, Jesus offered a different life than Lennon or kindergarten.

We can dress up our presentation to the world on the outside, but it’s the inside that motivates everything we do.  It’s a matter of the heart.  Our goal, our mission statement, as the church, in addition to The Great Commission , the two greatest commandments and the Ten Commandments, should be to live well and thoroughly the Beatitudes above.

We want to dedicate our lives to following our Rabbi’s steps in word and deed.  People of all ages who take the time to pray for, and with, each other.  They provide a community that will do whatever it takes to have each others’ back.  I have seen believers give food from their hand, the shirt off their back, the last coin in the pocket to someone else who needed it more.

I’ve seen believers weep over the loss of someone else’s loved one, drive others to their appointments, bring meals in times of crisis or illness, restock homes after fire took everything, provide shelter for women and children in crisis, and congregate to look for a missing teen.

We are called to serve the world we live in, whether that be in our own homes, next door or across the world.  We are called to do this for those who do not claim Jesus as their Savior.  And, we are also called to do this for our own church body.

For me, I take my church body seriously.  They are my family.  I have a very small family of my own, and my church family is indeed my brothers and sisters in Christ.  Whether I am trekking up a mountain in Kenya with fellow Kenyan believers, dancing with children in Ukraine at vacation Bible school, or hosting a BBQ right in my backyard for teens of our own congregation, I love being with, and serving, my family.

Last night, a dear friend was at our home when another friend arrived with a hot meal for our family due to recent medical issues.  My sweet friend who delivered it stayed and chatted with me – as did the several friends who brought us meals before her.  My sister-in-law, who lives far away, surprised us with a package that had restaurant gift cards inside with a note expressing she wishes were closer to help.

My friend who was at our home when dinner arrived said, Wow!  Dinner!  It’s nice to see people still do that for each other.  It’s nice to see the church caring and reaching.

The meals have been a Godsend, but I’ll be honest and say that the warmth of someone’s touch and time mean even more.  A smile, a conversation, and just their mere showing up is medicine for the body and soul.  I felt my sister-in-law’s love even across the miles.

I love being part of the body of Christ, because when it is healthy and thriving, just like a human body, it works well.  Cooperation, unity, and God’s love are essential to us, the bride of Christ, looking and feeling her best.

Recently, a friend at the grocery store who was checking out my groceries asked what I was making.  I told her that I was trying to stock our freezer for my impending surgery.  She said that when she had knee surgery some time back, she relied on her husband to be the temporary chef.  From what she said, I guess he didn’t do such a great job.  My heart broke for her.  There was little to no help in a time of temporary, painful disability.

My hope is that people who have not tried, or given up on church life, would take a chance and give a Bible-believing church a go.  No one promises perfect, but we try to love as God loves.  There are such untapped resources of friendship and help to receive – and to give.  It’s a beautiful circle of people coming together from all walks of life to serve God and others.

The church is a reminder that we, as believers, are not in this thing called life all by ourselves.  There is strength and safety in numbers.  There is also joy, fellowship, love and grace when Christ is the common thread.