Category Archives: Community

An unexpected election response

This morning, I left my home to vote.  Hobbling through the doors in my surgical shoe, I followed protocol and stood in line.  When it was my turn to vote, I stepped behind the machine and suddenly halted in my tracks.

I just stood there, staring at the electronic board.  Months had culminated to this moment, and I could almost feel an electricity in the air.

Inhaling a long, deep breath, I voted.  In the middle of casting my ballot, an applause broke out in the room.  Startled, I looked to the woman next to me voting and asked what everyone was clapping for.  She pointed to a pretty, 18 year-old young woman and said it was her first time every voting.  I was so proud of her!

Once I finished, I left and texted my husband, telling him to come right away as the line wasn’t long.  He’s on crutches, so the less standing time the better.  It’s a tradition for us to take our kids with us to vote.  They’ve been to countless elections.  I want them to be knowledgeable and comfortable with the process.  This year they got to go with Dad.  A treat!

Perhaps some of my passion for our children coming with us to vote is because, to this day, I vividly remember walking into my voting precinct at 18 and feeling utterly lost.  I had no idea what I was doing, and was embarrassed that it showed all over my deer-in-headlights expression.  I want our children, when they turn 18, to confidently know how to educate themselves on who to vote for and then make the time to do it.

America’s voting percentages have been pathetic at times.  We have been granted a privilege, and it is our responsibility to vote as citizens of this nation.  If I may be so bold, my philosophy is this…vote or don’t complain later.  Voting is our opportunity to speak, and if we forfeit that gift which was bought by the blood and sacrifice of countless men and women who have paid the price of our freedom, then don’t bother complaining later.  Harsh, I know.  But, it’s how I believe.

In the parking lot of my precinct, a wave of emotion hit me completely unexpectedly.  Tears welled up in my eyes and a lump swelled in my throat.  Bewildered, I simply let the emotion flow.  When I paused, I thought about what I was feeling, and realized it was an overflow of relief and release over this election.

For months, I have followed this election extremely closely.  I’ve listened to the debates, watched countless interviews and analyses and read many, many articles from every angle.  The only “information” I ignore are political ads.  Rhetoric.  And, for the first time in my entire life, I stuck a presidential candidate sign in my front yard.

After months of praying, pleading and begging with God to find mercy and grace on this incredible nation, today I awoke with no words.  I told God, I feel I am out of prayer over this.  I am exhausted over this election.

Instead, I have sung worship and praise songs that speak my heart – and prayed some more as the hours pass.

Emotion overwhelmed my soul this morning, even way before a result is rendered, and now that I have taken the last step and voted, I wait knowing there is nothing else I can do except continue to pray.  As an American voter, we are each a part of a very large team.  That team is running a generational marathon.  As a team member, I have done what I have been able to do in my own power, and casting my vote was my finish line.  The baton has been passed.

However the results turn out, I can sleep at night knowing I did what I could – in the midst of surgery, my husband’s injury, and the blessed, chaotic daily grind.

That is what I want our kids to take away from this election and every election.  Every person is important.  Every vote is important.  And being part of the process is important.  They are the next generation who will will lead this country.  We must be an example for them to follow.

Ultimately, we place the election outcome in God’s hands.  He is bigger than this election.  He is much larger than either candidate.  His plans have been set since before the birth of this planet and nothing can change them (Job 42:2).  He gives and takes away.  He loves always.  He disciplines.  He extends mercy and grace.  His ways are higher than our ways, and thoughts His are higher than our thoughts (Isaiah 55:8).  He is good all the time.

We may be electing the next president of our country, but my faith is in my God who created and sustains this world we live and vote in.  My trust is in Christ, who gave me citizenship through salvation in a country not of this world – one that will outlast everything we know to be normal.  My joy is in knowing that God is sovereign, and although the seat of the president is up for grabs every 4 years, God shares His throne with no one and never leaves it.  He rules.  He reigns.  God is God – yesterday, on election day, and forever.

Hope thrives

Yesterday, my husband and I went to grab a quick bite for lunch.  He is working from home these days following his rock climbing accident on Monday which left him injured.  We hobbled into the restaurant together, both donning a right surgical boot – him limping with a crutch.  We look comical, really, and were given many stares and glances at our predicament by those around us.  Twinsies.

As I stood in line to order our food, I noticed on my left a very elderly man and his aide, a home health assistant.  They were engaged in conversation, and what spoke most to me was her softness toward him.

Having had my grandmother go through the assisted living regime in her later years, I am quite familiar with all it entails.  I have known attendants that were so sweet and kind and loved their jobs, and unfortunately, those who felt the opposite.

This woman was precious.

When he said something to her (I couldn’t hear over the noise), she laughed and he touched her cheek with the back of his hand.  She could be his granddaughter, or great-granddaughter, and it seemed as though she felt that way to him.

While enjoying a coveted, rare lunch break with my husband, I periodically glanced over his shoulder to watch them in the background.  It was obvious that going on a lunch excursion was a big feat for this man and his disabilities.  An effort, but worth it.  Toward the end of their lunch, I watched from across the room as she wheeled him to the restrooms.

Attendants are unsung heroes.  Their job requires more self-sacrifice than what others will experience in a lifetime.

After some time, they reappeared in the dining room and headed out the door – as she gently pushed him in his wheelchair.  We left a few seconds behind them, hobbling back to our van.

As we drove away, we passed them approaching their car.  He looked at us, smiled and waved, with his attendant at this side.  We waved and smiled back.

In a time with so much sorrow and pain in our nation, this woman was such a testament to the human spirit.  She was caring, attentive and considerate.  He thoroughly enjoyed his lunch out because of the way she treated him.

I remember with my grandmother, I needed to walk slower than my usual pace, repeat myself numerous times, and be willing to adjust plans on a dime because of unexpected health concerns or circumstances.  I remember waiting with her in the doctors’ offices, picking her up for family events, and simply spending time together whether watching my young children play on the playground, walking the aisles of the grocery store, or sitting on the couch and talking and talking and talking.  This was precious time to me.

The reason I have so many fond memories of that time in my life is because she modeled these things for me first.  My mom did her best, but from an early age my grandmother helped raise me.  She picked me up from school when I was sick, took me to get an ice cream cone on special days, and taught me how to be a lady.  She played games with me, advocated for me when I needed it, and countless hours were spent sitting at her pink-tiled kitchen counter talking and talking and talking…usually over a home-cooked meal she spent the entire afternoon preparing.  She did the best she could to finish raising me after Mom died.  She was smart, gentle and funny.  I learned through my grandparents that the generations ahead of us have an unending plethora of wisdom and knowledge to offer those following behind.

We were made for community.  With God’s help, community gets us through the tough stuff of life.  None of us can handle everything completely alone.  We weren’t supposed to.

Watching this sweet woman yesterday, and thinking about all that my grandmother did for me over the years, a flicker of hope in my spirit fanned into a flame that together, we can survive the storm – whether it be physical, relational, or weather.

God puts people in each others’ paths to share the journey.  Let’s not miss an opportunity to be that person to someone today, or to welcome someone’s help in our life.  Either way, we are all more blessed in the end.

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!

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.

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.

Why I love the body of Christ – forgiving friendship

Yesterday, I wrote about a friend of mine who has an amazing testimony of redemption and transformation.  Today, I’d like to tell you a story…

Once upon a time there were two friends.  For years, they shared life together.  One day, massive heartbreak occurred.  The friendship dissolved.  Time passed, but not without the lacing of an occasional, short hello or semi-genuine smile when we saw one another. It never grew less awkward.

Boundary lines were drawn and mutual friends were lost.  My name was dishonored, and at times I felt extremely alone.  Betrayed.  Unloved.  Forgotten.

During this time, I sought God as my refuge.  He and I dealt with my heartache.  He taught me how to be okay, even if life around me wasn’t fully okay.  He became known to me as my God of sanity.  Still, there was a sense of awkwardness stirring.  Things were unsettled between my friend and me.  I had done what I could to seek amicable relations, yet I felt powerless to do anything more as I no longer had a dog in the fight.

I let my friend go – partially because I will never force anyone be with me who doesn’t want to, and partially because I could not control any of this, including her feelings toward me.

Years passed.

Recently, to my surprise, I received a phone call from her.  Just to hear her voice on my voicemail caught me off guard.  I had no earthly idea why she called because our lives have not overlapped for a long time.  Before I was able to return her call, I ran into her at church.  I began with an immediate apology for not returning her call yet due to life barraging me with wave after wave of relentless issues to deal with all at once.

She simply took my hand, and with tearful eyes, began to apologize to me.  I was taken back at her sincerity, genuineness and humility.  She was visibly, transparently broken. She told me that God used a recent sermon to convict her so heavily regarding me that she could not carry this weight one more step.  The words she used were extremely powerful to me…

Although I have always loved you, I have not loved you well.  I am sorry.

When she said that, it was like cool water to a thirsty soul.  Over time, I had worked things through with God to overcome my grief, anger and sheer shock of events, but I had no idea how much good it would do for my heart to hear her words.

Her husband stood with us as she offered her apology several times.  I told her with amazement, Your countenance is different.  You have a softness about you that I haven’t seen in years.  She replied through tears, Thank you.  I needed to hear that. 

It was a beautiful moment between two people.  God had surely done a huge work in her heart.  It was visible in many ways.

Her apology is one I never thought would happen. You know how it goes – hurts happen, time passes, life goes on, the subject gets dropped, feelings get stuffed and we smile as if nothing ever happened while a sting pierces our heart – but we hide it well.

This is not how God intended it to be with people, particularly within the body of Christ. He has set forth rules for handling life’s sticky situations, and Christians are, therefore, held to a higher standard.  I totally get that, but what I think the world doesn’t understand is that we are human, very human.  Christ lives in us, but we have free will to choose our behavior.  We want to please God, but we wrestle incessantly with our human nature that is selfish on all counts.

Paul wrote about this in Romans 7:14-25.  It takes everything in us, but it is only with God’s help, we live the way He wants us to live.  Our spirit knows the Truth, but our flesh craves a human response.

Delightfully, because God had worked with me to forgive her a long time ago, I was freely able to extend that forgiveness to her with no strings attached.  That’s what felt so incredible!  She and I came at this from two different vantage points, but because God was the common thread, He wove us together in His mercy and grace.

I can say with a sincere heart that all is well.  It was a biblical moment that superseded our humanness.

Just last week, I read the headlines of a national magazine that so-and-so will never forgive so-and-so and that she has written her off forever.  I thought to myself how sad that was.  Forever is a long time.  And, for Christ-followers, we will share forever together so we’d better learn how to get along now!

Are either of us, my friend or me, perfect people?  No.  Do we have perfect lives?  No.  Do we serve a perfect God, who took the time while ruling the universe, to reach down and mend a relationship among the 6+ billion people who walk this planet?  Yes.

It was a miraculous moment.  Honestly, I had given up hope that anything like that would ever occur.  Her heartfelt actions and words refreshed my hope that the seemingly impossible is possible with God.  Everything is possible with God (Mark 10:27).

Had we not been believers, trying to live according to God’s ways, our story would end with the same headline of being written off forever.  Not so with God.  Who would have thought?

Being a part of the body of Christ means we are intertwined in each others’ lives.  We are – family.  We have a Heavenly Father to whom we are accountable for our actions.  The world says to be our own god and make our own rules and answer to no one.  The only place that gets us is alone, because it’s all about us, right?

Christians may not always get it right.  We live under a microscope of cynicism from the world who waits for us to get tripped up in our faith journey.  Yep.  It’s going to happen. We are sinners saved by grace.  But, the difference is that with God, we get a chance to start again.

His forgiveness is the only kind that lasts.   If we forgive on a human level, we are bound by conditional love – which is hyper-temperamental and unreliable.  We forgive out of our finite capacity based on our personalities and life experience.  However, God’s forgiveness is based on what has been given to us – divine forgiveness through Christ’s sacrifice for our sin.  And that is an unconditional, endless supply to offer others.

Do we wrestle with emotions?  You bet.  In the course of my life, it has just about killed me to offer forgiveness in certain circumstances, and I will not write that I have perfected the area of offering divine forgiveness.  But, through this experience with my friend, God has poured streams of living hope into my soul – an unexplainable optimism – that where we give up and come to the end of ourselves, God says, Finally!  Now let me carry it the rest of the way.

I love being part of the body of Christ.  Why?  It works.  God’s way works.  Not according to world’s standard because good guys finish last, right?  But, according to God’s standard, we can have unshakable peace, audacious faith, and irrational joy – and we get to share these hidden treasures with other believers who have also discovered them along their faith journey.

God’s way is hard.  Really hard.  But, it’s the right way.  The world’s way of dealing with broken relationships is broken itself.  Grudges drain energy.  Unforgiveness poisons the soul.  Ongoing anger turns bitter.  Relationships end, but the hurt never stops.  I’ll take the hard, but beneficial, way any day.  Christians still have feelings to work through, we’re not robots, but laying them at the feet of the One who carried the cross of my shame, I am free to trust His system of perfect love.  After all, at any moment, I may be the one asking for forgiveness.

Even though I am imperfect, I can love with God’s perfect love.  Where what I have within myself ends, He begins and carries the baton of righteousness and godliness for me – holding my hand as we run the race.  Helping.  Cheering.  Instructing.  I am never alone. Neither is anyone who calls on His name.  I have my friend back again and we have both been changed in the process – hopefully to more resemble the One who created us.  God is our Redeemer, Restorer and Reconciler.  We are thankful.

If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness; therefore you are feared. ~ Psalm 130:3-4

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Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. ~ Ephesians 4:2-3

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Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift. ~ Matthew 5:22-23

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Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. ~ Ephesians 4:32

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Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me?  Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” ~ Matthew 18:21-22

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Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. ~ Colossians 3:12-13